Skitters Poems | Examples

startled fox a mere kit

startled fox turns with his fluffy tail down
His fur he wears like an amber kingly gown
Against the forest wall, he gives so much color
Hiding in the thicket is his older brother
His teeth have barely come in, he is a baby
Will he run off like a frightened deer? Possibly
He skitters away; now his beautiful tail is up.
He is a kit, I realize, not a dog, pet or a pup.

Magical September Oak Twirls

Musical autumn leaves in slashes and swirls.
Flowing around me, making melodic curls.
Titters and skitters from mischievous squirrels,
What is more magical than September oak twirls?

Spring Freedom

a teeny tiny
mouse shyly skitters among
the crisp-dried leaves and deadfall
the teeny tiny
mouse believes that Spring has sprung
to free him from his burrow

when fragrant flowers
rise with soaring sleepy heads
teeny tiny mouse snuffles
as jasmine entices
teeny tiny mouse to run
free and scurry through the fields

Weaving Its Way

A leaf weaving its way
    down a flowing stream
  skitters windswept 'cross
    an autumnal lawn

  Once detached from a twig
    its life far too brief
  teasing undying belief
    ~ as green turns to grief

Why I Write Poetry, With a Pen Tip of Honey

Though medicine tastes bad and bitter as it always skitters 
On the tongue’s taste buds as the black sea on sand that glitters 
It helps and uplifts the body to get fitter 
Honey glazed on the rim of the medicine cup tastes so sweet 
To children for the body’s healing from sickness’s heat 
Gnostic teachings are tough to swallow in their obscurity 
But paintings of words illustrate all their healing beauty 
Made from the honeycombs of flowing thoughts with surety 
For the healing and release of soul and spirit 
The nectar for the bubbling spring is not from myself 
But comes from the fruits that the Father has planted himself 
So the whole cup is his work, I can’t take true credit itself 

Therefore I accept that golden ink to drip unto the page 
To make Christ’s teachings shine even more sweetly in this age 


Date: 7/17/2022
Name of contest: 2022 Poetry Marathon Mile 8 Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Mark Toney

Erosions

the chaffing entropy 
of self-maintenance
combing human features
into land-slips

predestined by its engineering
an electric screwdriver
skitters away
from its moving parts

dishes in the sink
soap suds wearing away 
willow patterns

a domestic maintenance 
erodes ceramic bones
they grow thin and break
replaced by tougher plastic bandages

we dry our hands
notice it is evening
turn on a vintage 
hundred year old lamp

few things live longer
than times short shelf-life

At Last

AT LAST

On my veranda I watch beads of sweat 
slide down the glass of ale I use to get over 
something I’m not sure of, perhaps just an 
absence of idea or thought, a quiet discontent 
that sparrow at the feeder cannot know.
The small bird skitters to his majesty the Red Oak 
who lives slow in the corner of my woods.
He is old enough to speak with substance and 
weight beyond the business of anything I’ll ever do...
To my left that willow I set in the ground some years 
ago waves long wands in the breeze over the water 
and careful plantings on the terraces and slopes. 
And there it is, the sure knowledge ofan ungentle 
slide down three score years and ten to sleep, 
with a paucity of hope for substance and weight.

Copyright
Vol Lindsey
7/12/2004

Soul To Soul

SOUL TO SOUL
(Written for Mother Sandy Stone, whom I met in 1992.)

SOUL TO SOUL ***

The early morning call.
   A sand dollar skitters in before its rushing wave.

A message bringing within a mosaic of tears,
   long to explore.
      The sand dollar rolling ahead 
          of a white-foaming wave.

Memory catapults her presence
   again beside me.
The sand dolllar pauses on some wet sand
    and slowly gives the sky a twirl.

Hers was an enfolding heart that Gave and Knew.
The sand dollar, yet to tip, receives
    the brightness of the sun.

Hers was the company of light,  soul to soul.
The sand dollar at last rests,
   beyond any waves pulling it back.

The everywhere she went, already misses her.
The sand dollar, not thrilled by blank, blue sky,
    Is joyous to see tiny fingers taking hold of its
       circling side,
          blocking the sun with such 
              a blessed giggling heart.


——————————————————————————
(c) sally young Eslinger 2/5/22
Glory to God

Still Life

Oh, how we watch a town go by!
Pieces of life
wrapped against the elements,
going somewhere,
always going somewhere.
From this upper window,
my eye is a searchlight,
sweeping the streetscape.

I celebrate my stillness
by remaining still,
stiller,
and stiller still,
holding my breath,
stilling my eyes till they sting.
I will my stillness
to fill me, envelop me,
hold me still from within and without,
a force pushing out and in,
creating an equilibrium for my soul.

And still the life below
scurries, scampers,
scuttles, skitters,
fizzes, bubbles, lives,
the quick and undead,
each destined
to be still one day.


(September 2021)

Auburn Nest

full chromatic color
opening Dorothy’s door
from ceiling to floor —
the rainy season’s generous
a stunning rainbow or two.

captivating, the creature 
who skitters about
in and out of crumbling
retaining walls,
running the mulch
like an obstacle course.

dandelions, a treasure
to be plucked and tucked
in my hands. a trivial bouquet
that my mind will savor
...forever.

a wise guy’s eyes,
small that they may be.
the mouthpiece
with missing teeth.
he points out the glittering street
and all the gold he can find.

i kiss the top of his auburn nest.
he’s growing up so fast!

6/9/2020

*Truly this is a compilation of two pairs
of boy’s eyes. The tender young
are so poetic of mind.

Garden Memories

If I close my eyes I can almost smell the flowers 
buttoning into summer with a vibrant petal stir 
Walking through the lane I own a sweet review  
of all the roses  that once hugged my fence   

A little squirrel skitters through a leafy tree   
skirting in the distance like a flying superman 
The sound of children 's laughter in the sun 
is a magnet to my ear, I am lawning once again 

The tea is served in mugs of goofy decalettes  
beneath a parasol umbrella green and white 
The hours melt away like a season's peep show  
but I need not memorize this momentary glow  

for I know each year that winter doors will close,     
and the spring will reappear like the iris & the rose . 

Feb. 28, 2019

Keeping the Darkness At Bay

Swirling flickers from a flame
 Whisper on the scented breeze
  And dance their mystic game.

Burning wick as shadows change,
 Night skitters away in gentlest retreat
  From twirling flickers of a flame.

Orange licks that can't be tamed,
 Wax dribbles down in such splendid seeps
  As it danced it's mystic game.

The magnificent tower it became,
 When hollowed outsides begin to weep
  How it flickers in the flame.

An elegant flower as you sway,
 Calling out to catch the wind it seems
  As you dance your mystic game.

The walls slip now, but a pool remains,
It burrows down and shrank so deep.
Unto the last flickers of the flame,
 I'm entranced by your mystic game.

Saturday Morning

Distant babble, a shout, an egg beater,
What does the clock say?
More noise, a dream dancing just beyond memory’s reach,
Where are my glasses?
6:45, no, 8:54
I found them on the sill.
Down one, then two floors,
The babble becomes intelligible.

Mom’s answering emails
Bob plays Toy Crush
I see Zac reading
Despite the lack of hush

Lydea and Becca make us pancakes,
No, it’s muffins that they make.
What kind is still in question
Because the batter isn’t done.


Violet yells at random people,
But she is only four.
She throws a yellow tape measure,
It skitters across the floor.

Haylee’s still asleep 
How, I do not know.
But in her sleep she misses
What is going on below.

Dad is at the temple
Diligently serving God
He wants his family all to know
That his devotion is still strong.

Saturdays and family
Are pretty much the best.
Except for when my mom says
“Now clean up your huge mess.”

Still I wouldn’t trade them for the world
Though into it I’m being hurled
And when I think of imminent leaving 
My heart in two is slowly cleaving
But it’s time to go 
So they should know,
I’ll keep them close to me.

Selkirk Alone 1707

Marooned the word
Waves hiss at my dilemma
And palms caress
The trade winds brought me here.
Sad flotsam serves
The stuff of my crude cabin
And jungle goop
A remedy 
For skitters quite severe.
The hardy gulls
Companions each blue morning
Who show me shells
For boiled meat, tasty too.
And wood stocked high
For bonfires
In the darkness
Bringing hope
And maybe glad rescue.
I lift myself
With songs once learned
In childhood
And written thoughts penned
On a sun-dried leaf.
But none to hear
Or offer back
Rich comment
To bring this castaway relief.
Dear God I know your care
And closeness ever
And see your Hand
In gripping starlit sky.
But strength is sparse
And months expired
Beyond all number
Yet still tomorrow I will try.

https://sites.google.com/site/stuffthatrhymes/follow-me/blog/selkirkalone1707

Still Life

Oh, how we watch a town go by!
Pieces of life
wrapped against the elements,
going somewhere,
always going somewhere.
From this upper window,
my eye is a searchlight,
sweeping the streetscape.

I celebrate my stillness
by remaining still,
stiller,
and stiller still,
holding my breath,
stilling my eyes till they sting.
I will my stillness
to fill me, envelop me,
hold me still from within and without,
a force pushing in and out,
creating an equilibrium for my soul.

And still the life below
scurries, scampers,
scuttles, skitters,
fizzes, bubbles, lives,
the quick and undead,
each destined
to be still one day.

• Short Skitters Poems
• Famous Skitters Poems
• Best Skitters Poems
• Read Skitters Poems
• Long Skitters Poems
• Skitters Quotes