Short Scours Poems

Lone rocky outcrop
Isolated hardened heart
Cold wind scours surface...

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Death scours the grove,
A wretched symphony chatters:
Requiem of the leaves....

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a lonesome hermit

scours the beach for a new shell

no longer homeless





Rual's 'Journey' Haiku...

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What's this old world really about
To be happy and content there ain't no doubt
It's in everyone's power
To eliminate scours
Just turn up the grin setting on your big old snout


© Jack Ellison 2016...

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your 
       still smile,
eyes
     cold as ice,
arrogance
           afloat
brings a surly
             breeze
that scours
        the room
sidelines
            conversation,
pushes love

....over the edge...

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Pubs and clubs he scours
In the wee small hours
To use his seductive powers
On the maidens he devours
Then in the early hours
The maidens he deflowers  
Are left like wilting flowers
He then returns to gothic towers
Where he then showers...

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Moon


Were we like the yellow moon
Lighting gloom bright as noon
Growing anew the eaten part
Curved like the gourmand’s tart
Restless as it scours the sky-	
Restless and refusing to die....

Friends would be truly “sweet”:
And not fail us on their feet!


JM

03rd February 2014...

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The rain, it falls in endless showers,
morning, noon, and nighttime hours.
I hate the rain cloud as it  towers
and as it scours and as it scours.

I'd rather have the falling snow,
with its bright and glistening glow.
When it's o'er, there's more to show
and balls to throw, and balls to throw....

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She scours the globe

With a culturally diverse appetite
                    
                              Her lustful journey

Juan…Vino…Butch…Jacque...Rami...Pierre 

No country is off limits 

No country is safe

                              Her lustful journey 




 *For David's Dish contest...

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Treading along the avenues of iniquity
The downbeat of mollifying choruses alleviate my ears
Ambivalent logic scours my cerebellum
A frown composed of disdain surfaces
Whilst I seek a hero amongst such strange clouds
I covet to taste of the superlative pleasures ‘tis Mother Earth
Though I am left to contemplate when next my happenings...

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Senryu 
 Only a fall leaf  
Blows where the wind takes it
We take the omnibus  

Senryu 
Oak leaf scours asphalt 
Autumn´s  worn out dead beat
Can´t dance tango 

Senryu 

Rainfall in Yemen 
Taliban under umbrellas 
 Listen out for drones 


 Senryu
Steps on gritted road 
Slam of a car door and voices 
The song of life...

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Her ears point forward to a sound she hears.
A sound beyond a pitch to my ears.
Her legs now crouch to attend the fears
Of the twitching nose that scours the airs.

She runs like a bullet shot from a gun.
I'm following behind on the run.
She corners and traps her small bale,
While I stoop and lift it by the tail.

      Don't worry. I set it free....

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Sky filters through scant woods
printing a cold sunlight on shadowed tree trunks.

Only December has this light,
it both scours and forages,
it scythes away all heaped-up flotsam.
A December wind,
sings its own death song.
Ice hangs unseen upon the air.

The woodland acres shimmer,
then tremble upon a long fading note,
one that ushers in
last rites and other mixed blessings....

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Words will sour
in your lust
for power,
it is these
deeds
that come.

Prayer is lush,
it makes
one cower
but pure
is the cure
that scours.

I fend off
these baleful insults
which tumult
through my brave
innocence.


The flower 
of the flesh 
is stretched
into power.


I oft come
here
and smell
the daisies
by the lake,
where bones so
fresh
waste away
in your wake....

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An ash blaze scours your head.
The ice kaleidoscope of your eyes burns into my soul.
The hardened touch of gentle hands scars my body.
The piercing touch of his tongue abuses my lips.
My knees weaken. His smell, musky, tainted with Armani. 
The torture continues. You’ve pull me into your destructive embrace.
Shocked with electricity, you whisper 
I can satisfy you.


© Sandra Denise Jensen
5 November 2007...

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I only tell of sunny hours... 
then rest at night along with flowers.
No one will come in dark of night
to read the time I show in light.

I only tell of sunny hours;
the bright sunrise, my surface scours
to make my sundial shadow best
for time that is the pleasantest.

I only tell of sunny hours;
you see I have the magic powers...
to tell time's measure, work or play,
throughout the brilliance of your day.


Sandra M. Haight...

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Awake love's vaunted rite of Spring
Fertile flowers; mating bowers
Two hearts join in amorous fling
Nature's caress; fondling showers
Spawning paramours seeds sowing
Warming sun over head towers
Burgeoning heat, truant parts cling
Fecund lads rut away the hours
Plowing ground, then cultivating
Trees with fledgling shoots accreting
Fawning tendrils lust empowers
Coupling birds o'er meadow scours
Bleating consorts talons preening
Nurturing pods; nubile plowers...

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By beckon of midnight the stars fuse

Along the subtle twilight moon

A sharp, yet quite an adept muse

Struck while atop I sat a dune


Adrenaline scours my veins

A flux unlike any before

Soft as the nature of cinquains

Paradise forevermore


Prosperity oozes in masses

Euphoria profuse I sought

Despair swift she collapses

Austerely wounded left distraught


Passion, passion

Kiss every edge never been touched

Abstraction, abstraction

Swamp me within incessant lust...

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