Short Scuffing Poems

Rushing here, there and everywhere,
A mind that leaps canyons and space
Ricocheting, bouncing on rock walls,
Dislocation with turbulent pace.
Scuffing up dust and then zinging,
Off at wild tangents or angles,
Darting, exploding like fireworks,
Neurological barbed wire tangles.
And sometimes, sometimes crave tearing
At the flesh beneath tingling skin,
To rip this man-suit off the mainframe
And extinguish the chaos within....

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Pep-talking walkers were strutting.
Round ladies were jogging,
strollers pushed by 
the quick and the plodding.
Teenage girls flouncing.
A ball thrown still bouncing.
Kids were shouting,
shouting.
The pond went round and around,
a circle of sound.
They were texting, yelling, tripping.
Kids skipping, noses dripping,
flip-flops scuffing.
Round and round the people went,
while the sky made a big round-eye,
and I feebly clinging
to its edge....

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Footsteps thumping inches
down the ramp
under the stained glass window
gathering Jesus’ sheep

bleating and pausing 
forward and sideways
scuffing the first white shoes
towards church

moments on the move
squatting before altar steps
with a devilish glint 
in blue angel spaces

a hurried hosanna
reaches like yoga toes
and quickly giggles
with pontificating souls

dropping to knees
rub the foot-trodden rug
measuring worship
in tiny prayer...

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I constrict and recoil from the bitterly cold wind
The sun so bright it hurts through the clear sky
Soft melancholy music bounces from the perfect acoustics
And I drink my despair ravenously as I cry
My winter's pain is almost too much today
Profound sadness shoves me violently, 
tearing my old sweater
scuffing my worn shoes
I mutter some passive nonsense to myself
Hoping tomorrow it will all go away
Hoping tomorrow I'll find someone besides
me to accuse...

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What was I to say to her
If I still had my sight
Out of all the people passing
I could smell her walking by...
The perfume she keeps wearing
announces her before she's near
Although I never met her
I get excited when I hear...
The patter of her footsteps
or the scuffing of her heels
No matter if she smiles or frowns
I know the way she feels...
Then one day I spoke to her
just sitting across the aisle
I didn't hear her say a thing
But somehow I sensed a smile......

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The scuffing of slippered feet 
stoop shouldered baby steps 
can’t climb the stairs 
can’t get to the potty 
button my buttons, please 
I need a nap 
come read to me . . . 
hair needs washing 
winter’s coming 
wrap me in a blanket, dear 
tuck me in and shut the door 
but, God, don’t leave me here 
I know your face, seems close somehow 
but that memory’s not too clear 
nice to see you, dear 
do I know you, dear? 
you’ve such lovely green eyes – 
like mine . . ....

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