Short Whittled Poems

I drew out a pen knife
and whittled insomnia
into this little poem...

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Hours in the day,
What for do they exist?
If only to be whittled away......

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Strength is whittled
as thought pervades

Indecision
—the dullest blade

(The New Room: June, 2021)...

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much time has passed 
my love for you is eternal 
remembrances may be fleeting 
some are etched in our minds 
like teenager's love notes whittled in a tree 
By Robert McDermott...

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Scratch away at my soul
Rip off my skin
To uncover what lies beneath
Blood, crimson and copious
Bone, white and whittled
Heart, shattered and shriveled 
Love, gruesome and gone...

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Oh, What A Piddily Day

I Whittled It Away

On Some Unnecessary Chips

On My Shoulders

& In My Dips ...


             Written & Copyrighted ©:  9/12/2013 
                by:  MoonBee Canady...

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she
whittled me
out
of
starlit kisses
she whittled me
?





we could go on
but why
should
eye
am
i
eyes
...
..
.













...
..
....

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I set alight a fire burning bright
It was a blaze of hope, of faith
Having no tinder, I thought I might
Burn my heart; and smoke billowed, wraith.
I whittled at the carbon fuel, chipping as its lathe....

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Morning Camp

hushed morning sun
dappling through the wood smoke
wake up! smell the toast!


Sundown Camp

embers glowing hot
s'mores branches whittled sharp
oops! marshmallow flame!


11/17/13...

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 The old barn
condemned;
fresh wood
for creative juices;
carved and whittled into
the most refined
picture frames,
you’ve ever
ever imagined
to don
a fine portrait...
condemned
to a new life.


...

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Ddddddddddddddt, Dddddddddddddt
By
Tom Wright

There was a man, who had two wooden legs,
Who was attacked one day gathering eggs.
The woodpecker thought,
It was the tree he sought,
Until he’d whittled both his legs into pegs.
...

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my thoughts
we're hardly
to bed her
but better
to say to
create a
smile

but then not
knowing of
that singular
trap of trying
to truly yes
seduce
her

that it was she
that took me
not swindled
but whittled
my erect
branch
to a

toothpick...

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Wacky Willie whittled while whistling weirdly
Widow Winnie winced at Willie's wacky whistling-
And wrecked Willie's weird wooden whittled whistle.......


Woefull winded grandchildren whooped with delight...
If you havent guessed..lol ...for the Tongue Twister contest......

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In
The past
Moons ago
Zest was my friend
Living with vigor
Where did energy go?
Whittled away living life
Regrets and pleasure intertwined
Former self gone I am a shadow
Sustained by poetic, enquiring mind.

Image by geralt pixabay...

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You opened your mouth, to shoot out daggers

when I turned my back to you

What a cheap shot... you coward

spit your cutting words at me

and watch me heal faster than you can cut

I am not one to be whittled

And now I have new armor

so you can not cut me again

I bleed for me alone now...

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That kind of thing really griped his soul
                           Meenie ate cookies smuggled from my bowl
                                         Sullivan sighed a little
                                       He was so sick and brittle
                            Whittled himself down to size with a howl...

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Weighed down by it’s skin
Pelt heavy, it sat.
Loneliness whittled it thin
T’was called the spotted cat

A mistake from long ago
Left it wounded and hurt
Now lives life on the lay low
Blood mixed with the dirt

Its fur was quite matted
Patchy it still was
Skills fallen out of habit
Closed eyes, tired paws....

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she stitched me
in
the
middle
her mandolin
had me at suppose
it
was
an
fiddle
violen
strung rose
oh how she whittled
me strung out in the snow
her flute how it pipers me
warm enough to breathe
caught another breath
harp strung for me
her lyrics sewn
through
my
chest
she stitched me
?...

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As we put putted out
into the estuary, the 
sounds of the city 
receded, the tang of 
sea filled my nostrils 
and the water turned 
from brown to aqua.
Danny  put out the lines
but all was quiet so I 
whittled a piece of spruce,
letting the shavings drift
in our wake, as I sucked 
a hard yellow candy 
waiting for my sockeye....

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Evolution changes 
the mind of man

All insight martyred 
for wider scans

The magic filtered
as books proclaim

What facts uncover
and time disdains

Evolution fosters
a weakened soul

Each process stifled
the gist untold

Forever whittled
in narrow canes

Tomorrow empty
—the past defamed

(Dreamsleep: August, 2022)...

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Poet's Plea


I pray not to carve sculpture
whittled by a frenzied rupture
Which, like a portent fist
bollocks to shard all the gist.

Instead, Oh Greatest Lord,
I pray for gift of a kind Word  
swinging not like a dry sword;

That, perchance, it may drift
Like of a selfless spendthrift
Spirit of the wretched to uplift!


31st August 2013...

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A Limerick Poem

AABBA

A limerick
A little windowpane trickled on the left behind diamond
A cosmic milky way, solitude, and Bed, bath and beyond
The word, to and fro, and surreal, a tenant, and the zealous zeal!
Where about of these, all , felt as drops for basil bill, a Duncan hill
A hue in the very first, in a hymn song? For Life, whittled.


3-9-2024
(Updated)
...

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Dusty lonely antique chair
lost your lustre modern fare
whittled wooden hardback saddle
broken wheeled tipping mantle

Covering floor with aged graces
missing party interfaces
one time sat a master...mistress,
now forgotten sitting listless

What accounts you must bestow
stories written young and old
ledgers full of erudition,
...alphabetic composition

Once a time of well oiled use
forgotten,time has made recluse.......

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Nurtured into a budding bloom
My hands are busy, they start and soon
Shake with blue; white; doves intone
Bones, body brown with eyes that drone
Like tiny gashes sewn up by hand
Tempered temper: fueled and fanned

Dripping dew from simple soil
Bead and bend, like drops of oil
Slick, smooth and shadowed still,
Rush the ground like boulders fill
Forgotten craters; satyrs; round and then
Devil’s whittled son, left wooden red....

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Still no Window,
Still no Whiskey.

Still no Mountain,
Still no Glade.

Still no Rustic
Bench or Rickety
Table.  No Oil
Lamp, No Hand
Whittled Pen.

No Daydreams
Wafting 'n Wefting;
Curling Heavenward,
Mingledancing with 
Tobacco Scents.
No Time Sense,
Such as with 
Such Contemplatives,
Such as with
Surrenderers to 
Fate...Much as with
The Untired Retired.

I suffer from
Idylolatry and Idleolatry.
I suffer from
I suffer from

...and yet,

I write....

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