Short Scuttles Poems

in deepest darkness
all voice forever silent~
a cockroach scuttles...

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barefoot in the sand
    waves gently lapping the shore -
         a crab scuttles by

6/28/21...

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a bonfire smokes - -
a tiny hedgehog wakes
and scuttles out

Jack Horne for Russell’s Autumn Splendour contest, 26th August...

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the woods a secret
hiding place for herd of deer
scuttles ‘round ‘bout creek
out onto the runner’s road
bested, trudging on her feet

10/8/2020...

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Intense black cat
Penetrating ebony eyes
sharpening his claws

in his comfort place
fading into the dusk
pumpkins for cover

spider scuttles past
afraid of feline giant
not realizing she is safe

feline is silent
still as granite
waiting for something furry with a tail...

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i have eight legs
i am an arachnid
delicate;exoskeletal 

you have two legs
you are a mammal
sloppy;squishy

yet it is i
with the stronger backbone
with the precise dexterity

who scuttles
who cowers on the wall
silk trailing

you with a newspaper
print odorous with ink
smashing in my wake...

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salt crusted fish bone 
caught within tangled seaweed... 
high tide offering

hermit crab scuttles
erratically on sand... 
waving eyes on stalks 

opened mouthed seashells 
coated with wind driven sand...
change in the weather 


22 September 2022 
syllable counter... poetry soup...

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A week of triple digits.
The birds stay low.
No sign of life, except
gophers scuttling across dry grass

making for the lower regions. 
Roots, tubers and bulbs. Gophers
turn down and inward, thrive
on lonely. 

Look, here’s one that feels
the vibration of our feet 
and scuttles off again.
Lowly, homely, alive....

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A prince or a cockroach,
Which is Obama?
Just watch him scuttle,
Then judge this drama.

Scuttles through leaves of Red manifestos,
Scuttles through dung of leftover leftos,
Scuttles with gangs in a big white house,
Showing the world the soul of a louse.

Well, you have to admit
There's no high drama
In watching this cockroach
That's called Obama.

The plays's beginning
And that is sweet,
So jump for rights
And stamp your feet!...

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In the late twilight,
when the last bird call is fading.
When the last rodent scuttles
to it's nest.
When the last spider
has crawled into it's crevice.
When the pointed reflections
of reed grass blades,
are moon shone silvery.
And appear as
hung polished swords,
under the inky
surface of the still
chilling pond.
And the flickering space station
slides beneath Venus,
in the dusty blue velvet sky.
I wonder what brought us together?
And I wonder why?...

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leaving home

tell tales of courage
hope and faith my
mind will not hold these
sliding thoughts tonight.

tonight I am afraid
it has been growing
 in my gut all day
 tying myriad knots
like a crazed boy scout.

I am afraid with no surcease
it is paralyzing me 
binding me into the woman
I do not know.

write, write, 
scribble her out
it is my only way of 
battle, expose the witch. 

fear is corrosive 
and scuttles through 
my night  an alien
awaiting me tomorrow....

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