Short Swerves Poems

"body language"


her swerves and curves

occurred around

every corner

from head to toe

spoken in bawdy language...

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pick up truck
speeds down the road...
johnson grass lies down

pick up truck
leans on curves...
driven by hunger

pick up truck
swerves into parking space...
Olive Garden  ...

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Green Panatela


Waiting in his Cadillac, silver gray, 
Dr. Oates swerves his lighter   

to his green panatela.
Next to Dr. Oates, 

a poodle, silver gray, barks  
where Mrs. Oates will sit

in moments now, 
when from the beauty shop,

coiffed silver gray,
majestically she issues. 


Donal Mahoney...

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Up and down as it overlooks
the open book
freefalling so
but where to go?

Embellish each page, one by one
where words will run,
of written swerves,
artistic curves

By quill that writes an artful verse
I now rehearse
but cannot free
calligraphy


____________________
For Nette's Minute Contest
By Carrie Richards
10/25/12...

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Running lines
Swerves implied 
In the zone
Only one way out
Completion
Mistakes will happen
Backtrack
Erase the tracks
Continue with the journey
Bumps in the road
They'll try to stop you
Detour
Beauty is up ahead
A masterpiece awaits us
Once received
It'll control
It'll become you
Don't let it take over
If its all you
It's all in you...

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had a bad day so I took off my clothes
running and running through paths of concrete
and the sweet smell of ripe canteloupe on my head
free as a bird
letting myself finally fly
everyone stares as an automobile swerves to miss me
te bright sun shining on my beautiful skin
God intended it like this
"I'm a hamster! I'm a hamster!"...

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Where Mrs. Oates Will Sit


Waiting in his Cadillac,
silver gray, Dr. Oates 
swerves his lighter   
to his green panatela.

Next to Dr. Oates
a poodle barks, right
where Mrs. Oates will sit,
a poodle silver gray, 

the color Mrs. Oates’s hair will be
in moments now
when from the beauty shop
majestically she issues. 


Donal Mahoney...

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Tough times tell
Words work well


Prize pure pain
See self slain


Note numb nerves
Set swift swerves


Lines lost late
Face fine fate


Poise prompts proof
Taste taut truth


Spice soft sell
Dance dream dwell


Be buzz bright
Rest reaps right


Calm choice crafts
Dig deep draft




Leon Enriquez
29 November 2018
Singapore...

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"The streams are my veins" ~ by Constance La France

I feel
I belong to
the pellucid stream that
gently swerves through the rocks as I
stroll leisurely along the rough ravine;
Warm and vibrant, it heals my soul;
My reflection, I see;
The connection
I feel

Date: 08/17/2022
Submitted for: Let Your Muse Be Inspired - R Form Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Constance La France...

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Painful thoughts come to mind
knowing my eyes are truly blind
When your body swerves, coinciding with my words
hear me speak and keep it JUDGEMENTAL
my weapon is a pen, and life is my pencil
mistakes are erased, pace your every breath
I know your every words, it's my escape
with nothing left, and there is only one who
tests such feelings so true, when reality breaks
for the beauty in you......

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got the hype for the mike,you can have the horderves, the swerves, the curves, i wont that mike..is that microphone on..it will be when i get it , tha mike that is. my words will flip yo curves from day one cause i'm on it wit that dazzle, suspended in craftiness messin wit yo mind with finesse, got some skills on that mike, got some thrills on that mike got some spills on that mike got some chills on that mike..make you holla..del taco!...

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Road rage at starlit dusk, curdling like grilled blood
When noise of a hurried pack swerves with screams;
The freeway transforms into a  jail of time-muggers
As I smell the  acrid odor of jumbled agitation.
Pine boughs rest  and sway along the dusty byway
Thawing  a tired  mind to watch moonray above, lending light—
An evening  assured  open doors  would  welcome me home.


Seven For Chaos And Order
nette onclaud Contest 28 Jan 2017...

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Sam sends smileys,
Sheila seeks sobriety;
Siberian skies shed sadness!
Seven Swallowtails swirl,
sunset sets scenic shades:
scintillating, stunning, 
stimulating, sparkling!

Sordid sentiment stays sentient,
safeguarding searing sailing ships;
sailors sit still sipping scotch,
soaring seagulls start shrilling:
somber, sorrowful symphony!

Sordid sea swerves ship,
storm stirs subdued senses;
Simon strums strings...
sober Samuel sings!...

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Through night
It is a flight
Hard to see where it leads
Along the way, stars come to be
Lighten
The path
Swerves through a sea
Of rocks and lands of ice
Unfamiliar territory
To dawn.

At dawn
Our struggles cease
For they have all been drown
In His love when our heart's grown to
meet His.
In love
Our life is turned
To flourished lands, image
Of God's own, a familiar place
Heaven.

By CarolineCecile
copyright © 08.04.11
...

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Jazz
Bold fest
Joy greets quest


Words
Thoughts urge
Purge new surge


Sight
Sure flight
Sense clear light


Verse
Some terse
Just observe


Feel
Bold thrills
Wear fond will


Praise
Can raise
Odd malaise


Groom
Make room
Show bright blooms


Joy
Plays toys
Gain feeds ploy


Laugh
Plain stuff
Just enough


Curves
Hot nerves
Fancy swerves


Style
Fond smiles
Play strange wiles




Leon Enriquez
16 May 2015
Singapore...

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Skater on black ice,
sheds a ghostly light,
under dark charcoal sky 
they weep and spin 
in magic bold rings 
but shriek with laughter
when sonic bells peal
as the nocturne candle 
flicker of spectators peer
at bright figure swerves
of glow worm carousel 
fly-by-night dream
mutters from lone star
lost in foggy curtain 
encircled by pier echos
hypnotic peak hour veil
deep inner self idol 
an otherworld eye feast
captured on spooky lens
enigma at its zenith
  
...

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Contiguious With Being Ambiguiou

While our car swerves and swerves,
You always like looking at my curves,
And when the wind had many gusts;
Kept blowing on my beautiful busts.

When my many poems I did compile,
None of them were ever worthwhile;
And even when I went to an academy,
I had flunked a course in anatomy.

When you see my poetry's framework,
You know it was written by a big jerk,
And could be considered contiguious;
Mine were really already ambiguious.

Jim Horn...

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