Short Scrapped Poems

Scrapped myself across
obsidian finger tipped
tree tops
as the blistered red yawn
drags upon saliva skies
skin and bone
hanging empty doll
prone to be alone...

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His Brain Has Knapped

All other subjects Trump has scrapped;
Now how about by Obama being wire tapped?
More intelligence must have been lost
When all of his wires were totally crossed;
Forever we think his brain has knapped....

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We are told that Franklin would have preferred

     The scrumptious turkey as our nations' bird

          Though old Ben's advice was scrapped

               A turkey might have been apt

                    Since Washington's 'turkeys' are so absurd

Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved...

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Pet
Petrified
In a corner

Images are what memories are made of
Sounds add audio for your tears 
Precious feelings of the horrible never forgotten 

Sit here—listen, this is how I feel
Do you reckon I am now what I remembered I was
Then…
Then knees scrapped, wild hair, grass stains, 
Sunday dresses, shiny shoes…

Let’s play dress up 
You’re mine
 Muse...

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you birth me in this world for a reason
             you went through the pain
      you struggled through life
                you yelled and screamed pushed and cussed
       you scrapped up money 
             when you needed it.

you stood beside me for a reason
             so when i cry you catch my tears
        when i fall you pick me up
             when i need a hand to hold
                 youes is there...

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I flipped the drawing
In the plastic drawer.
Its back facing forwards.
No longer will it be what I’m seeing.

I tore the drawing
From the blank wall.
Its laying downwards.
No longer will it be what I’m hoping.

I scrapped the drawings
In the digital folder.
Its all hidden away.
No longer will they be seen.

I erased the drawings
In the vault within my mind.
Its inspiring creativity locked away.
No longer will they be....

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When you see me
What do you see
A man broken by the ravages of trying to be
The child crying at a scrapped knee
The lover unable to leave one who doesn't love me
The manic depressive numbed by life
The artist who strives to convey emotion
from a muddied paint tray
The poet using words to explain away the day
and with each syllable
give a little of me away
so what do you say
When you see me
What do you see
Cause all i see
is the empty...

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mom you birth me in this world  for a reason   
                       you went through the pain
             you struggled through life
                       you yelled and screamed
            pushed and cussed  
                      you scrapped up money when u needed it

mom you stood beside me for a reason
                  so when i cry you catch my tears
         when i fall you pick me up
  when i need a hand to hold yours is there...

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Poachers shrug off
their critics,
who say that they are aiding
elephants' extinction - the
people who are thirsty
for money from tusks claim
that poaching
doesn't destroy the world,
it only destroys poverty
and feeds their hungry families.
They press the triggers,
without foreseeing a wild with no elephants;
a nation with no tourism;
an orphaned elephant calf;
a beauty scrapped off from Mother Nature's creation....

Photo #2

Date: 09/04/2016...

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Scrapped Book


The other side of the picture
a white out “got your back”
slings and arrows of passing fate
but “no one’s keeping track”

pursed lips of “ mirror practiced smiles”
just one more pose before we go
pinched eyes of  “hurry up and click”
taken by someone we don’t know.

The crowds have thinned as mem’rys fade
it seems that family’s been undone
by people with 500 friends
“taking selfies” – “table for one”.


John G. Lawless
©6/13/2018...

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Arrive with me in untainted
light. Between two threats:
life and death. Falling from
mantle, there was no surrender.

Bone-deep, I will ask you a
question. What life has given
to you and what death
has taken from you ?

Read more in my eyes. You will
find the ravines of hunger. For
truth. No organic pain. Only thirst.
For a very violent rush of rains.

Ink-stained moon was willing
to cede the moonlight, even dew
to wipe out the nightmares of
your scrapped ego. 



Satish Verma...

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Yesterday the men came working
For the first time at last
With acetylene and torch burning
From eyes glazed 
And fastened on the old bridge
That crossed the river
Where the canefields yawned
At my yearning
When I was hungry.
The river is still wide
And deeper now seems to me
When the old bridge is gone
How will the hungry masses
The trouble of this town escape?
One bridge can only feed today
And I fear
There is nothing to sustain tomorrow
When the old bridge
Scrapped, leaves a barren way....

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