Short Placards Poems

placards (order sheets)
opids (labels)
pens (writing instruments)

forklift
pallet 
zone (isle)

scan
lines
incentive

silk 
soy
plain

strawberry
peach
blueberry

yogurt
yogurt
yogurt...

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Anti-abortionists never a dearth
Of carrying placards to harass;
As to the young child’s worth,
We must demonstrate in mass
Supporting life after the birth! 

Written July 18, 2022...

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A Tree Falls

A tree falls.
No one calls 911,
offers aid
or comfort.

Homeless birds
hold placards
“will work for seed”.

A sapling sprouts.
Crickets  camp
beneath it.

Stony shadows
keep time
in passing
sunshine.


©1/24/2018

submitted to – END JAN 2018 STANDARD CONTEST ANY FORM OR NONE
sponsor – Brian Strand...

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Wouldn’t it be nice…IF

The sun rose and shined on all
The moon smiled at sunset
The stars played hopscotch in the heavens
The universe exhaling in peace

Wouldn’t it be nice…IF
Those wearing RED hats
Extended a welcome
To those waving placards…

The hats removed
The placards laid aside

Wouldn’t it be nice…IF
THE POLITICIANS DID THE SAME
...

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I see fewer Gnomes
A variety of “flags”
Signs and placards
Letting me know
“whose lives matter”
There are a lot of “bunnies”
As they offend no one
My “lawn” has not seen fertilizer
In thirty years
It resembles a wild maned lion
The last “Madonna of the bath tub” shrine
Was removed by the new owners.
There are “cardboard” coyote’s
To keep the Geese and Turkeys away
A Buddha sits undisturbed
In a moonlit garden...

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With lilting tongue and glittering eye, the Celtic potter chortles by.
His clay-browned hands delicately placing, kiln God's on shelves and window facings.

Minute figures of Sun and Moon, mystical men with beard and rune;
sheep wandering on grassy hills, all on clay placards for windowsills.

And tossed about through roof and rafter hung, pink and purple, from pilasters,
were all the glorious flowers' of Spring, saved, dust covered, on dangling strings....

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While delaying gratification, 
you stripped-down 
to bones.

It was winter solstice, 
when day and night confronted 
each other- 

in negativity. Tracking 
the frozen footprints, my absence 
was generic.

I dread the barrenness- 
of looks, the unwritten wounds
seeking the healer.

The avalanche falling 
rapidly on the streets, with placards 
demanding the gallows-

for the tainted. The
victim lies still. Ashes fly
back at the purebreds.


Satish Verma...

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