Short Scrawls Poems

Brilliantly quick hand												       Scrawls mysterious white script                                                                                                Thunder utters clues...

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Ladies and gents of the Soup, I salute you all
With my very last breath to the site I'll crawl
To say adieu
To each one of you
Making me feel wanted and putting up with my scrawls...

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Thoughts appear in bubbles
I scratch and cross them out
Cover them in scribbles
Suffocating self doubt

My mind is full of scrawls
Of half formed thoughts and thinks
Reminders of shortfalls
Repressed soul distressed ink...

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A small dark-haired boy

absorbed in the words he scrawls

at an old wood desk

has thoughts brighter than grim walls

beyond which his future sprawls


Nov. 23, 2017 for Eve Roper's Photostory Contest...

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Mine instrument pens not to laurels win,
nor scribbles it one note for foolish fun;
no sentiment it scrawls with violin,
on spinets old no fairy tale homespun;
for Wisdom judges doodling but a waste --
in singsong fêtes Pain yet sans any taste....

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A pen is unique to it's hand.
Fingers take comfort, from familiar scrawls;   
From the most luxury Parker to the humblest biro,
Your pen is faithful, your pen is yours.

Wether it's a trivial shopping list,
Or a staggering masterpiece,
None of it could be possible,
Without your pen's ink ready to speak....

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A journey in the night,
Exploring our flight,
Pages of each our lives,
Pens ink of Bloack and red,
We scribble our dreams upon our sheet,
Scrawls of inner wnatg and yet to be,
Unintimided by each other, smiles.
Evolve inable, yet ready, suprior,
Wood fibers, a page created,
undestroyed, blood in our hearts, 
Alone, we be not, 
Our lives, numbered calender, we fill.
Journey's bright, we beat....

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When I am gone
When no more I deface the whitest page
With scrawls
Will you keep my words as my total wage
Withdrawn from life's bank?

I have nothing else to leave
Indigent all my life
Invested nothing but my love
Imparted through my words.
I give you all.

Let no silence or blindness break it
Little fragile flower
Lean your tongue against it
Ladening taste with desires 
Love templed in a tender tropic song....

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cRISIS RELeASED

Drawing blindly in the dark,
elongated by time,impredicable
scribbles, swirls of released 
sensations.
A ecstatic impulse, floor to 
ceiling juxtaposed in loops
scrawls and spirals in
simple effortless doodles.

Ekphrasis tribute to Cy Twombly

You may hear me recite this ekphrasis and most of my PS anthology on youtube under my pen name ichthyschiro

Catch my short forms @strandpoet on twitter...

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the world lulled into a waltz

tis blurry who talks the talk

hopscotch scrawls who walks the walk

future visions blow hot and cold

life with no purpose gets mighty old

seems high five awes don’t erase the flaws

lessons with no plot get no applause

lackluster society doesn’t connect the dots

this dilly-dally world tarnishes the bot

gumption and prudence still adrift

mankind’s journey a repetitive tiff

repeat after me, life’s still a gift...

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Eyes of a pup glistened so bright 
Before the day turned into night
A tedious day I had to fight
Cause I’m fearful of some sharp bite

There I was walking in the street
Booking a seat for meet and greet
With a good friend I’d long to meet
In a bar so full and complete

Yet, she did not reciprocate!
I understand it’s no blind date
Nor was she even purely straight.
Yet, her wall was not worth the wait.

What don’t I get about the wall?
Why on earth did it need to scrawl?
  
...

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