Short Squatter Poems

a squatter or scab,

drags his house, like a shell cab,

that's the hermit crab!...

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Squirrel chit-chatting
staked a claim on my pear trees;
his prime real-estate!

 ...

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New age hurdy gurdy on the fiddle,
lotus pose squatter spookily enthrals,
Sultan nail tip sky diver of the fretboard...

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Your malignant image scalds my eyes like some strung out squatter in the high rise.  

July 10, 2016
*For Silent ones one liner contest...

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Sadness echoes once more in my chambers,
pain, residing in me like a filthy squatter,
and my heart is squalid,
unfurnished.

Surrounded in you,
you are the fastness of my echo....

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My saviour


With the coming of the wind
I loosen my eyes 
For them to take a feast
And with wings to my thoughts
They began to soar and rove
I begin to shudder 
When i think of ebony
Squatter in distress
squatter without hope
All tears and tear
Seeing sighing alas whimpering 
As her saviour walks past...

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Ist germ warfare? 

Yes Bob,
1950s In Aussie they used myxmetosis, 
carried by mosquito the mostest, 
Squatter Jack was of grass, alack, (always) 
disposed of the rabbit he boasted, 
but the bunny out bred the attack,
 brer bunny might give you a slappp:) 
adapting old bunny still coasting...

Don Johnson 3-sep-11...

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Hailstones on the mat
A feral Tom cat lingers
Doors that never shut

As hailstones strafe junk mail and mat
Where feral is the alley cat
On one hinge hangs
The door that bangs
And he ain’t going out in that

The feral cat whilst oftentimes homeless, is, it seems, at no time gormless




26 January 2022
Contest: Charlie Hai-Lim-Ku poetry contest
Sponsor: Charles Messina...

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No words,
no thoughts,
remained unkissed, unwed
by a shapeless white death.
Still under the spell,
I squatter before the moon,
peeling off, to receive
the ultimate.

I am trying,
to find the roots,
of unknown.
Breaking protocol, for a
moron liability, unclouding
the dark sky. It was homecoming
of a Michelangelo to repeat
the performance.

I want to write
a dirty poem


Satish Verma....

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there is a village where
everyone a squatter
everyone a traveler
no one is permanent
rich or poor none is
a child each person is
but all have no mothers
all do not have fathers
but each child is father
of  the father’s father
each child is mother
of the mother’s mother
yet no one is  parent of the other
the tag of imaginary parenthood
hangs around each neck
and yet none is orphaned
interesting that as squatters
squatting is a taboo for all...

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You hear the words calling,
  but what if they stop

What if the voice changes
  to cold what was hot

And it’s not yours at all
  but a squatter that hides

D.N.A. of its own
  new agenda of lies

Those messages before,
  were they gifts or on loan

Is the feast yours to eat,
  will meat stay on the bone

Will the Muse be unfaithful,
  is divorce in the wind

Leaving words then unnamed
  —orphaned silent within

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2014)...

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