Short Splats Poems

rotten apple
splats 'pon ground....
firm apple rolls  ...

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                                                Ancient Barlett Pear
                                    Orange leaves dance reflect light...
                                           Lone pear splats 'on earth...

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They steam,
They glare,
They fume and frown,
My ideas snarl and knot.

They slouch, 
Resentful to be asked.

They stare and duel,
And pout.

Then suddenly - 
A random thing
Flies through the traffic jam,
A buzz of green cicada wings -
 
The tune splats guts
Across my screen.
...

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Splats of red take the plunge,
Right below her screaming eyes 
Tarnishing her white pillow case 

A foster mother in rage 
Cheese grader, as if that is the solution

Time truth conquers over her gripped hands
Dizzy in fear, she takes the child

Hides the truth behind those white walls
And leaves her 

Not one look back...

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The indents and lines upon the Earth
From snow melting, has written its fluid song of rebirth.
The sky, cold blue, wars with the sharp heating sun.
This moment of exclamation says Springtime's begun

Splats of snow lie beneath cliff's high rook.
They splay like asterisks on the pages of a book.
A hiker on foot notes the changes in spring airs,
While the snow under the cliff sheds the last of its tears....

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We're supposed to get rain,
So where did it go.
Instead of the rain,
We've got big flakes of snow.

Oh it's post card pretty;
Okay here's the thing,
We're supposed to have rain,
Because now it's Spring.

It's slippery and slushy,
And splatters and splats,
As cars rushing by,
Slide this way and that.

The flakes are now smaller,
And blowing sideways.
So where is the rain,
They said we'd have today?...

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Why does my new girlfriend always wear a cowboy hat
She lives in the big city in a high rise council flat
I gazed up at the window of her flat up in the sky
And when I did a bloody pigeon did one in my eye

So as I walked away I’m wiping poop to clear my sight
But droppings kept on plopping on my shoulders left and right
All I could do was duck and dive and try to dodge the splats
I looked around and everyone was wearing cowboy hats...

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Listen to poem:

Feeling sluggish, shelled.
Lithely lingering in the dust and grime.
Palette grey and dull, devoid of crisp bright hues,
Brushes all furry, frayed, blunt, incapable of fine detail.
Apathy and complacency palls to gloom and doom in my room.
Inactivity and being non-committal, chokes the creative urge, to be stillborn.
But then, words and poetry flood into the brain during sleepless nights.
There's no stopping it. 
Its spell, dispels the squashes, and quells the squishes to splats....

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The plumbing here is atrocious
With clattering so ferocious
It spits and splats, like angry cats
And can also; be quite precocious

Just a tiddle, as with its handle i fiddle
Gazing into its innards, only a dribble!
I peer so intent, on my knees in a dent!
As concrete makes; pain so complete.

Wow, I lurch without perch and numb feet
In I draw breath, then rattle smash bash
A torrent’s comes flash' a watery lash!
In sodden clothes, I must beat a retreat.

©Joe Maverick 20-11-2022...

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