Short Scooping Poems

Two eider pilgrims
scooping shadows like nestlings
under cedar wings...

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Mice run from tractor;
clever eagle plunges down,
scooping up his lunch....

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Kindly pumpkin seeds
Grow one of my favorite treats
Scooping out is hard
A stringy gooey orange mess
Wonderful with cinnamon...

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I had dreamt that all oceans were beer,
from a rowboat I’m scooping up cheer,
but similar to tea,
beer goes right through me.
I can’t urinate in the boat - OH DEAR!...

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Constipated senator Ron Thump
Got frustrated whilst taking a dump
Eww what a sad minger
He used his forefinger …
and extracted it all in a lump!

9TH June 2016...

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By Angeline Vine

He went through the morning
ritual
Scooping spoons of coffee
One . .
Two  . . .
Three . . 
Four . . 
and one to grow on! 

Suddenly, his keister felt 
a slap...

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About all your possessions, you blab
You’re trying to dream up a need ~~
Scooping up everything you can grab
I call that, unquestionably, GREED!

Written June 21, 2022
Submitted to "Greed Poetry Contest"
Sponsored by Margarita Lillico...

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I made a Jack-o’-lantern
With eerie looking eyes
The scooping was not wasted
For mama made two pies
We ate them in the evening
And then I went outside
I took my glowing lantern
And showed it off with pride.


[Dedicated to Abby Nance.]...

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She gathered her heart
on a lymb of urgency,
while he scattered the path
of deminishing mercery.
Scooping the day
up in a painful dust,
she withered away
from his heart of rust.
Her love was left behind
but only to love again,
as he took their love
and chocked it to the end....

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Catching fish amongst
The wall - high rolling waves
Fishing the moonlight 
Amongst the darkness of the night
Catching coldness amongst 
The blinking of the stars
Sighing secretly 
Amongst the swift blowing wind
Scooping hopes l
Amongst the unknowm of
 The  faraway future...

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When are we are
Moments pin prick my existence
leaving reality parcelled in the seconds
Looking at myself from another place
and thinking I am twain
lost in not being me
Scooping grains of joy from
a foamed Knights sky
Reluctantly unlearning the lie
No god to hang my hat upon
and forever has come and gone...

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HOLLOW EVE

scalped with precision
pressure and scooping of pulp —
wax burns inside skull

brains and seeds sodden
the black and white newspaper —
picking bits to eat

the orange crater
carried and placed on the porch —
cold and scary dark

flame flicker-licks wounds —
rounded eyes and crooked smile
mock the midnight hour

10/29/2018...

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Scooping out avocado
slathering it all over the lettuce
mixing in some beans
adding some chopped eggs, then dressing

Getting creative
I've never made a salad like this
I hope it tastes good
like something made for Thanksgiving

Putting together 
whatever I have that's available 
feels like playing 
little Play-Doh artist in the kitchen

SKB...

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Fourteen is yawnful and staring,
Lying around in pyjamas at noon,
Wondering, ‘What to do?’
Then scooping and gulping some sludge
From a tub in the fridge –

Until a parent full of peeves, 
aged around forty,
Comes fuming and growling,
Banging and slamming 
Until each glooms
In their room.

Fourteen and forty –
Leaving the cleaning-up
For tomorrow.
...

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You never disappoint
Giving with one hand
Then scooping around 
To grab back with the other
Always taking away more.
What a record -
Track marks cover my body
Like a collapsed labyrinth 
Tracing paths from injection points 
To emptied chambers.
When you hunger, you smile
Stretch out your hands 
And I shrink away
But your reach is long,
You give again
Then drain me to ash....

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Small boats are speaking
they creak and roll words in the gentle wash.
Land and water are uncertain yet,
Feet cold and rooted nowhere specific
you watch an inviable sky.

There are gulls;
for once they are silent
you hear only their wings
scooping air
as they navigate the fog.

When the mist lifts
the familiar is newly painted,
not with new paint
but with fresh appreciation....

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The house flickers the quiet of unlit pine.
Television on.  Two children, five and two,
watch the man bend the spoon with his mind, 
scooping the chalice free of impunity.  
Five years give way to thirty more.  Thirty 

spent watching those first five remind.


5/31/17

For:  I Should Not Have Looked
Sponsored by:  Mystic Rose

Dedicated to all children victimized by sexual abuse....

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I see the snow falling again,

Again I must start up ""Old Betsy"" before bed,

Bed brings cold feet and shivers until the
body heat thaws it out,

Out again to start another day,

Day brings kid's hopes of no school,

School radiators pop and moan to warm the
building,

Building up of snow is a potential income
for the young scooping snow for the old,

Old and tiring is Another Iowa Winter....

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The cake was sitting too close to the steak
The steak was done well, which was a mistake
The cake began melting, and the candles fell off
Worse yet, said grandma, your uncle gave it a cough

We had been digging around in the leavings by then
Scooping up frosting and pieces, my heart and my kin.
The prissy ones stopped, which left more for the rest of us.
We are Tennessee hillbillies who get around in a bus....

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I'm just an old shovel, who loved spooning around
    Scooping up and over again, the same old ground
    I’ve handled jobs, few others would call profound
    Always piling high, and patting down a big mound
    Some folks leaned on me, if no seats to be found 
    Then gave me a shoulder, when homeward bound
    When on the scrap heap, I never made one sound
    Got shafted damn good... but, I’m on the rebound...

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The bards met there on winter nights
to write about the sounds and sights,
of all the places they had been,
since they met last with all their friends.

Quills and ink wells,parchment too,
shared or squandered,
words come true,
thoughts and feelings
fill the air,
visions falling everywhere.

Scooping up bright inspirations,
from another's celebration,
of the wonders they have known,
and finding out,
you're not alone....

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You were obliged 
to watch the curse 
on the caterpillar, 
forced to fly.

It was a stunning spectacle.
The walnut tree scooping 
to gather,
the gold of black berries.

Speak up my lord. Did you live 
in the ghetto to know the
truth of thatched roofs ? Were
you afraid of huge mansions ?

It was not your heart; a
borrowed sample of imitiative
poetry. I will still go for
the rhythm of unspoken words.


Satish Verma...

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Consensual drop.
White bougainvilleas
were falling
on green eyes,
as I climb the sun.

Not a loss.
The seeds will carry
an image of a fallen
hero on the hairy chest
of a spilled sperm-

into the rippled lake
of a crowd chanting the enemy’s
death. The heritage
of corrupt state will bury
the memorial of a honeycomb.

Do you hear a meltdown
of an ululating monk ?
A piercing trill comes from
a scalp scooping the wardrobe
of a dethroned king.



Satish Verma...

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    "THE PUMPKIN SHUFFLE"



MIDNIGHT CHIMES MISTY
PUMPKIN SHUFFLE SWINGS EERIE
SMILING GLOWING SMILES

ROLLING ROUND HAUNTED CASTLE
DRACULA SMELLS PUMPKIN PIE.


JACK-O-LANTERNS STRUT
HIDE AND SEEK SO KNIFE WON'T CUT
RAVENS FANCY FEAST

PUMPKIN PATCH HIDES MASQUERADE
VAMPY THIRSTS FOR MARMALADE.


PUMPKINS PINCH MOIST SOIL
OVEN HEAT BEGINS TO BOIL
SCOOPING INSIDES OUT

YUMMY SWEET TREAT TASTES SO GOOD
PUMPKINS SHUFFLE 'NEATH CAPED HOOD....

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Mammoth cold this morning.
There’s been an ice-storm.
Creaking and walking
boots talking
shovel in heavy hand.

Robins pounce on frozen worms.

The wide spade
snatches at the frozen turf,
its red plastic mouth scooping up
small glacial heaps.

Soon I tire, soon I sag,
flinching beneath the wind's frigid lash.

I throw the shovel down,
defeated -

going to toss bird seed,
feed those robins,
maybe save the life
of a few stiff worms,

make hot cocoa.
...

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