Skittering Poems | Examples

Quill, Quahog?

O emptiness of space, thy harpsichords. Whole?
Panels out of place, looking-glasses smashed.
Bitter winds, thy frost. Sickness, dole, O soul.
Chaffy grain beneath the tired thresher slashed.
Turmoil, tamarisk tree. Toil? Thunderbolt.
Hated are the days of life gone dry. Why?
Reality thinned, then forgot how to fly.
Happy thoughts, lost. Cost? Harvest season molt.

Protection? None. Been and done. Sun? Hostile.
Yellow as eyes on a predator? Pill.
Alcohol, wormwood, erasure, vile vial.
Guns, thy salute. Funeral. Lunge, then still.
Ravine, out back and filled with water. Caught.
Animals afloat, belly up, life flew.
Grey old men, hope is a mystery. Clue?
Sparks, burned out and skittering. Fire, cold. Bought.

Doom, close in on all. Deliverance? None.
Stifled by Fate and Fortune? Withheld. New?
Nothing under the sun, scion. Red run.
Grasping fingers and a quill, quahog. Brew.
Wasteland, receive. Gold, far. Sandbar, choke. Smoke.
Poison, leap from serpent's fang. Deeply sunk.
Peril, everywhere. Round upward, time. Soak.
Continent, beneath water. Ocean, plunk.

Leaves and Leafy Grassiness

We sleep on each other,
lick on each other,
run around and nip on each other,
we are wholly 'each other,'
personalities
hid
in the ruff and fur around our necks
and the snaggle of our teeth.

We wag in unison
heart-timers synchronized.
When out in the big smell
we seek every scent
that sprout's
from the muddy baths and the great
wafting sky-waves that call to our blood
to come join,
come lope and snuffle.

The trails of other's drives us crazy,
we roll in bundles of ecstasy,
squat, squirt and snap at the thick odiferous airs
then inhale the news from every rump
we greet.

Under our skittering paws
leaf and grass, spatter and scatter
as we charge into each other.

What are these leaves of grass?
Each one could be a page
in poem of sniff and scratch.
The wind threads through our snouts
and we shake our heads
until our brains rattle in wonder.

Old Walt Whitman forgets to mention us,
but deep within his far pacing musings
we are there like an itch.

When he pauses his pen to nap and dream
our breathy huff huffiness
tickles his toes.

Light Rises On Her Passage

free verse

Sheltered in safety's shadows.

Knowing God cares for her chief concern
Soon the golden sunshine will flourish.

She watches tiny minnows, skittering they scurry;
and notes the hawthorn berry’s smell, sweet yet faint.
She hears music from the brook; recalls a tune.
Whisp’ring rest, grace notes echo from limb to limb.

Twixt hearth and home, her heart cannot grasp
Trusting God, what lesson might she learn?

Sheltered in safety's shadows.


Light rises on her passage.

Swiftly, she embarks on journey’s end
fearing not the danger she might face.

Horse and maiden head t'wards town with hoarded stash
filled high with reddish berries and heartfelt thought.
Sweet mother’s heart is hushed, likely by disease.
Will nature ordain what wise daughter has found

Death as yet she cannot comprehend
asking God's guidance for the trip.

Light rises on her passage.

Oktoberfest

It’s the time of the year for Oktoberfest,
The nip in the air, the leaves skittering about
A fall festival that rates among the year’s best.

Custom beers and homemade pretzels to test
While giving to German heritage a shout-out,
It’s the time of the year for Oktoberfest.

This year an accordion band will be the guest
Entertaining with polkas and customary shouts,
A fall festival that rates among the year’s best.

Plenty of toasts are offered with appropriate jest
There’ll be a “last man standing” boxing bout,
It’s the time of the year for Oktoberfest.

All the young children will be suitably dressed
In lederhosen and Janker, while eating their kraut
A fall festival that rates among the year’s best.

All the activities are characterized by their zest
Participants will have clean fun, without a doubt,
It’s the time of the year for Oktoberfest --
A fall festival that rates among the year’s best.

Written October 16, 2022

Dancing In the Street

Leaves are dancing in the street
Skittering with the autumn breeze
Something about this is very sweet
Leaves are dancing in the street,
Raking them, though, is not so neat
The limbs are now bare on the trees
Leaves are dancing in the street
Skittering with the autumn breeze.

Written September 30, 2022

Malignant Clouds

Clouds loom drifting, passing by,
The west wind gently tempts them on
Though no one knows what cause them cry
And no one hears their pleading voice
As all their acid tears well dry.


Snowy white, in rank and file,
The south wind warmly glides them far;
Smiling wryly all the while
Natant high above the earth
Ambling on, mile after mile.


Alluring to the offhand glancer
The east wind briskly chafes them forth
Skittering like the showtime dancer
Yet hidden deep within their breast
A growing rude and covert cancer.


But nature's wrath will bid her toll
The north wind casts the clouds astray
Freezing, breezing, pole to pole,
The stricken, tainted, wisps will wane ~
Dare no one care to save their soul?


So now as time is dwindling low
As the ill winds clime their worst
The poisoned rains, in flooding flow,
Rape our land to end mankind ~
And still, the winds shall wanton blow.

Under the Influence

Seems the train's as tipsy as me,
Skittering side-to-side on a ride.

Death In the Forest

Sunlight sifts through shimmering aspens
Casting ghost-like shadows on the forest floor
Camouflaging the smaller critters shyly
Skittering among the drying brown leaves
Protecting their well-hidden burrows
Sometimes I hear them chattering warning
In sharp squeaky voices so charming,
Not unlike the chirping of the nesting birds
When strangers invade their territories.
Stray sunbeams scamper across carpeted floor
Capturing a hidden hungry hog snake stalking
A chipmunk with leering, beady black eyes
Menacingly, when all else is tranquil hereabout.
Suddenly all is dark, the sun dips behind a cloud,
The snake lunges at the unsuspecting creature
As a crow abruptly caws loudly thrice overhead. 


Written May 17, 2022

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That Snowman Is a Real Square

That snowman is nutty,, a real square! The mean elves said, tittering.
The rest of the fey got away from them, running and skittering.
Come with us! A pleasant Christmas faerie said to the Snowman.
He said, “I would if I could but can’t, for I am positioned on this land.”

We could roll you down the hill and remake you, a helpful elf said.
Snowman chuckled but said “I do not roll, for I am square, Little Ed.”
Oh, said Ed, feeling embarrassed, trying to figure something else out.
They don’t bother me at all, the snowman said with a shout.

I was made square by a child who is very pleased with me.
He wanted to take me in and put me by his Christmas Tree.
He is thrilled I am made of squares, and frankly I am too.
If we were all the same, wouldn’t the world be kind of blue?

Tracks

It has been a deep snowfall. Paw prints
and rabbit runs skittering on the white.
Ice blades plummet from tree branches
with a common sharp-tongued language.
I wonder what maps are used
when the tracks disappear
only to reappear somewhere else
as if the space in-between
had lost its way.
The crackle under boot prints
is too loud,
the sky retreats out of earshot.
Up ahead more tracks
and strangely they look like mine.

Signs of Winter

skittering oak leaves
squirrels scampering about
seems winter comes soon

written October 30, 2021

When Is a House Haunted

Eerie parlor music squeaks out over the musty floral rug
No human people have been in here for a long time
The organ has lost some keys; which gives a weird sound
The ghosts in the attic cringe, remembering better days.
Once a showplace, the house is overrun by vermin now.

Skittering and scampering across the floor is commonplace.
Mice have nests in the rug, and in the long-forgotten divan.
Tiny streams of light come through the holes in the paper blinds.
Owners of this house have allowed it to die an unnatural death.
Urine smells keep the riffraff out; including a mother opossum.

It is the place where halfhearted spiders go to die.
Not haunted, yet, full of unhappy memories.
Why the organ plays herself, none of us know.
We wait in the shadows, willing a human to come forth.
Hoping they will somehow fix her up, making her fresh and new.

A man attempts to peek into the windows.
The organ ceases its dirge-like play.
We animals skitter into the darkest shadows.
A surprise for a realtor on this holiest of days.
Halloween, a day for crazed visitors.
Seems appropriate that he wears a mask.

Tantrum

The wind is having a tantrum.
It whines and screams and
Howls around the house,
Tearing at the shingles,
Whacking the roof with branches,
Blowing porch chairs into a corner,
A loose cushion into a puddle
On the next block over.
It throws the recycle bin
Into the raspberry bushes 
So cans and bottles litter the yard.
It sends trash can covers
Skittering across the road
To land against the fence.
It snaps tree limbs like pick-up sticks
And angrily summons the rain
To slash against the windows
With little icy pellets and 
Drive water in under the sill
To form a puddle on the floor.
Probably tomorrow it will clear,
And we’ll all go outside
To clean up the debris.
But the mischievous, childish wind
Will have the last laugh -
Because who can punish the wind
For the mess it made!

They Found the Body This Morning

dead-diddly-ed

you can't live in a state
of vigilance like that 
waiting
for it to pop up 

you'd die of stress

one of them was just strutting through
the living room
like it owned the place

i'm now sitting upstairs 

i yelped and dived out the way
the insects round here have been
losing 
their damn minds lately 

skittering around 

but i found the body of the gejigeji 
this morning 

it looks like i'll have to burn the house down now

In the Razor Light

Beware friends 
bearing strange fruits 
the shadow cloaked in whispers 
promises of delights
bloody sights
A Crescent glows nigh
ravens black 
Hue of night
only craves Dantes flames
ravens black 
in the razor light
Blind, I scream 
with delight spires 
gleam on the horizons 
Murders of crows 
gather on seams of midnight 
A cry of thrills, 
reach deep into the night 
Full of fright 
Beware friends 
bearing stange fruit 
Black, crimson, jade, frays, tangled and bleeds
Rot, clots and skittering things
Crows cry, 
crazy laughs in oblique 
and obsolete oblong 
halls if ruined hues, 
gleam bright on 
horizons razor edge
Bloody black suns
Eclipse halos of fire
Blind, I scream into fractured rooms
Towering houses silhouetted, dire.
All my fears my dreams 
my infinities bleed
Beware of friends in dark halls
Absent and absolute
Ravens dream
I scream 
As shadows seep
Things burn 
Into the deep black hued oblivion 
I whisper a prayer to nothing..
And stare.

4/21/21

JET

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