Short Squats Poems

around and around
nose firmly down on the ground
finally he squats...

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Crab in seashell squats
Until hermit does not fit -
House swaps are a must....

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family rides on me
society pulls my legs
world squats on me
burdened, burdened!...

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frightened turtle squats

         on its shadow, wet and yet,

                   gawks at zooming jet !...

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canine squats... tail wags

   duty's done... toothy grin... Bye...

      Hey!... you poop... you scoop......

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Naked
but dressing
beside her mussed bed
in her hushed, shadowed flat
where the guy squats
tying his shoe,
silent....

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A man swallowed Jello shots
Then fell on some cooking pots
He was burnt and scolded
He fell against the wall
Looked like he was doing some squats...

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Circle Time

we got a puppy – “super dooper”
now the puppy’s a – “super pooper”
he circles thricely
squats so nicely
I’m a “super dooper pooper scooper”


John G. Lawless
12/4/2016...

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ENGAGES THEROGENICS
 50 SITUPS
100 PUSHUPS
35 SQUATS
50 DUMDBELL CURLS
50 BENCH PRESS
WORK THE NECK
SHOULDER WORK
WALK AND RUN THE TRACK
GASTRONOMTRY

2 CABBAGE DEIT
AND THE
PROTEIN MEAL DEIT
3 DAYS OF FRUITS
AND VEGATABLES...

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Sit-ups, planks, and crunches

My push-ups done in bunches

Deep heavy squats from the rack

Deadlifts are good for my back

Just pumping up my biceps

And cutting up my triceps

I'm sweating harder each day

So I look sharp when I play...

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folks can't help but laugh
                           funny neck of that giraffe
                         bent down for a quaff


                      yonder, turtle squats
                    on its shadow, scared and yet
                  gawks at  zooming jet !...

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She squats, a noiseless brilliant sphinx 
And thinks with drowses, yawns and purr 
She turns upward, gives her full think 
I put down my book and see her 
Grinning into her soft furry
O' as she brushes it pretty
With her delicate tongue firstly
Tail held high -it's Serenity...

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Widower


In the miner’s shack
the vase on the dresser
squats beneath
a giant cactus
planted by hands
flinty and callused.

“When Mona was here,
this vase got roses,
and lots of water.
After she left  
I gave it this cactus.
It never needs water.” 


Donal Mahoney...

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Flinty and Callused

In this miner’s shack
the vase on the dresser
squats beneath
a giant cactus
planted by hands
flinty and callused.

“When Mona was here,
this vase got roses,
nothing else.
After she left  
I gave it this cactus.
It never needs water.” 


Donal Mahoney...

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She squats beside the water's edge, playing,
tadpoles and crawdads fleeing
from fat probing fingers.

Sunlight sparkles on the river ripples,
caressing a sun burnt face
and freckled pixie nose.

Contentment - a child at peace with nature,
living on the brink of joy
with sand between her toes.

Faye Lanham Gibson
Copyright, May 30, 2014...

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he leans on the palm
at waters edge
sated
smoking
he watches her walk walk away
his lips taste like her scent
his hands want to hold her again now
naked cherished
against him
another hour another hour
he squats and looks away to the waves
a deep lost longing takes his breath
his eyes sting with hot tears
he cries for the first time with joy....

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People and mice 
live together 
forever. Mice don't 
care. They just know 
what they like. 
 .
Caveman-like
tenant warm squats 
food hubs, 
babies' buvettes. 
They navigate  
with poor eyes,
by noses, 
the dark 
mazes.
 .
I have my own
trouble with sympathy.
Oh Disney how you have
led me astray.
I hear them 
unkillable with their
pitter patter feet....

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My neighbour’s addicted to Twitter
He’ll tweet when he’s doing a ‘sitter’
When he squats for a dump
He tweets more than Don Trump
No wonder his wife feels so bitter

The whole world knows what Fred is doing
He’s tweeting whilst weeing and poohing
Is nothing sacred
For tweet obsessed Fred
I wonder if divorce is now brewing!



1/16/20...

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You hear? Creativity and mental illness!
Then you know what? I must be seriously sick!
Nothing is empowered to fight my willingless
To rhyme, write and create but to sketching I stick. 

Doctor, please, tell me how severe is this? And what
Should I do  in my case if that's who I am?
I do it all alone, no studios or squats - 
Only canvas, brushes, ideas, oil and jam....

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“You are most elegantly composed, so cleverly penned””
The poem breaks wind.
“Will others notice the wisdom I have poured into you?”
The poem begins to rummage in a kitchen drawer.
“You are the perfect child of my creative powers!”
It finds a knife, begins to vigorously saw 
at priceless words.
“I think I love you."
It squats on the tiled floor and defecates.
Holding my nose

I carry it out of the house at arm’s length.
...

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Here squats a Black Widow spider,
who sups a swig of sweet cider.
     He spies her there,
     scoots close to share
and sips the hot brew beside 'er.

She darts with aim to devour,
her size gives her lethal power.
     She fakes a hug,
     then snags him snug;
true bliss defines his last hour.

For some who deceive are gifted
to mask when power is shifted.
     The prey's surprise—
      he's soon incised—
his parts all broken and sifted....

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THE PERFORMANCE

She’s a dancer ready to chronograph her next move.
The chair is her boogie down stool.
Her hand synthesis the groove.
She looks as if her depths are being used.
Her arm is amalgamated to the symphony sounds in the room.
She squats in a hunker down pose to expose her sensual core.
Yes, she desires to be an instrumental part of the performance.
_______________________________________________________|
Written February 27, 2016!...

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Who owns
These faces
I see in this
Crowded bus?
Our Lagos
Squires or slums?

Hopeful eyes
Squint as smews!
Scarfed
Capped
Bald
Bared
Heads flow
On mobile necks.

Yes!
Dry joy squats
Lifeless
On these faces
As elephant husks.

Arrayed in apparels
Shabby as pigs
Tho’ some gorgeous
Neat as eagles
These beings
Headed towards
Mile Two
O, Mile Two
Of all places!

But where exactly
Are we coming from?
And where exactly
Are we going to?...

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Odd bird stands out among the seaside flocks
Taller, leaner with red stripes round one eye
Squats in the sand, oblivious to mocks

Opens his beak, emitting a strange cry
Gulls spread their wings, rise high and relocate
Odd bird remains, doesn’t take to the sky

Acceptance by others is not his fate
Solitude is all he has ever known
Feathers unruffled, he lives without hate

One of a kind, this bird has no clone
Staying true to himself, his strength is shown...

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Bag Lady 

		Chicago’s North Side

This senior citizen 
whose face is Rushmore still
squats with pigeons on the steps
of the Rogers Park Masonic Temple.
She wears a shawl this snowy day 
and is beneath the visor of a hunting cap 
a woman who has paused along the way.
Her shopping bags, stuffed, frayed,
and each square feature of her face, confess
she speaks at best a little English.
Rested, she will rise, 
a penguin on a floe,
and navigate her day.


Donal Mahoney...

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