Skittish Poems | Examples

Koi Woman

She is as fleeting as the koi
twice as skittish
delicate and pretty
life has burned her

a naturalist, who loves Thoreau
a poet, who enjoys Coleridge
She dreams in color
a woman who has been hurt

To approach her, you must be subtle
honesty is the quality she must see at all costs
if you try to approach any other way
she will shut you out like the others

May

There are towel-drying winds.
parks grow soggy with small dogs.

May is an old man riding a bike backwards.
It is oil for the broken engine in the barn.
Wetness folds this way and that
the sky unzips a larkish sunshine.

We hear nestlings in their reservoirs of dew.
New life bubbles in puddles,
the green and tufted arrive out of nowhere,
boys' fish for skittish girls,
           beryl buds swell, unclasp and curl.

The Lake

The Lake.....

lies… still,
a glistening sheet of tin foil,
shimmering in a cold-eyed wind.

At night
the lake still... lies… still;
a coffin with lid screwed light-tight.

On occasion, the moon trickles light,
lightly across the lake's pitch-black back;
the knack of making the coffin lid crack!

Today, I challenge myself
to touch-dive the lake’s chilling depths,
halfway down I halt, a dark vault, 
weakens my errant confidence. 
Despite puppet legs and handcuffed arms
I spin frantically to reach a detached surface,
bursting out like some skittish, Scottish salmon
only to be held between the two supremos;
illuminated sky and darksome water.

Tonight, the lake grips my bedroom window
and I watch as watery, inky tentacles 
claw and talon at an unsettled shoreline. 

Later, I wait for sleep to possess me,
sensing surrounding hills clinging closely
while rain falls like pellets of iron.

So I drift…listening  to the lake
whispering dangerous, whispering treacherous secrets
until nature’s seesaw; night tilts into daylight.


Ian Souter

bison stepped on my foot today

Brutish bison stepped on my left foot today
Making me less merry, forcing me to delay
It weighed a ton, so what could I do?
I yelled “Get off of my tennis shoe!”

Skittish bison got startled and galloped away
My toe is broken, bleeding, its nail is turning gray.
So, I cannot come over for my play date today.
Maybe you should invite my cousin Jay.

Goldfish in a Rose Stemmed Glass

We were once bejeweled dolphins frolicking
within the starry glitter of a spiritual sea
our freedoms were gilded and fathomless
then eyeless ogres of mayhem and madness
steadily parched our happiness and peace
tempered our smiles, muffled our clicks...
until there was nothing, but blackness left.

They've molded us into skittish goldfish
trapped us in their rose stemmed glasses
feeding us a few rancid flakes at a time. 
dictating, we should be forever grateful 
to be in the shadow of their pseudo shine
for their plastic sextants and jagged kindness
thinking we need them to center our lives.

Dunking these vote centric peckers is paramount
now kick back, smoke a blunt, watch the buzzards drown.

A Nursery Rhyme

Dedicated to my dear friend Eve Roper

The muse was too late, so I did not write it with any picture in mind and not meant for the contest.


Oh Rose Marie, dear Rose Marie,
Where have all the skittish sheep gone?
They were all gathered on the lawn
But now they disappeared at dawn.

Oh Rose Marie, dear Rose Marie,
Go search and search up high and low.
Those skittish sheep must now be found.
Don't you know, dear, they cost some dough?

Oh Rose Marie, dear Rose Marie.
She did her best to find the sheep
Found them she finally managed
Neath a rubble wall all asleep.

Written today 26 August 2024

Approach Me Slow Or I Will Go

I am like a fragile deer
Approach carefully and beware
Not to startle me or I
Will run off, I'm very shy
If your slow and really quiet
With your love I just might try it
But be speedy and go fast
You will not even get past
Saying hello, you will lose
So be cautious how you choose
To start this relationship
Use a loose and gentle grip
You'll get all of my attention
My heart will have no objection
I will stay without the fear
Knowing your heart really cares
But a tight grip holding me
Will make me go wild and free
No chance of me giving you
Love and care a lifetime through
I've been run off by too many
Men who thought that they had plenty
Of charisma, grace and charm
Which just caused a lot of harm
So now I am very skittish
Think about the choices of this
Be smart, don't come at me quick
Because you think your so slick

The Sigh

It started with dry leaves 
pirouetting around
the yard on the back
of a skittish breeze, 
the magnolia rubbing  
against the fence
as if scratching an itch,
a few raindrops teasing
a thirst. Then,
distant thunder. 

The sound seemed to cue 
a tightening in the core,
an instinctive brace against
what was to come. Soon,
a sudden flash… 
followed by a loud crack
and a shudder sent rolling
through the guts of every
living thing.

Wind clawed at seams,
unpicking the afternoon
to fling leaf, branch
and limb into tumbling air,
cartwheeling chairs across
the lawn. Hailstones tore 
the fragile into bite size bits, 
beheading blooms before
suddenly stopping
and crusting the ground
in a white shroud
of innocence.

It was over. An unusual quiet
let soft sounds soothe
the air - trickling water, 
the tap of weighted leaves 
shedding raindrops,
murmurings of ice melt.
I felt an easing
as if an anger within me
had been released
leaving only a sigh.

red leaves

a tiny tree
radiant red leaves
a skittish squirrel clings to a brittle branch

Picture of a Windy Morning

How the wind plays
across the water
in changing patterns,
its skittish mood drawn
in ripples and rivulets 
of sparkle under
a morning sun.

The small boats fidgety 
at their moorings
as if roused by longings 
of freedom,
cormorants riding 
the unrest on bobbing prows
with outstretched wings 
drying in the wind.

See how the day
is slowly being assembled,
putting itself together 
with ferry boats
and dogs pulling on leads, 
wired joggers, noisy children 
in school uniforms
crowding at bus stops,
workers putting up signs.

How it all seems
to be following some hidden
script. And here I am, again,
walking the morning
looking for what I lost
in the long hours
of a sleepless night
when it doesn't 
have a name,

being ushered by the wind
towards a somewhere
or nowhere at all,
helped along 
my shuffling way
by a strange sense 
of unhurried trust
that all will be OK.

Distorted Deer Trusts Heather

Where is this creature, this distorted deer?
Heather knew, but she pretended to not be clear.
The deer was shy, and wanted to keep away from others.
He would be skittish around her belligerent brothers.

Not sure she lied, hoping they would go away.
They finally did, and she was glad none did stay.
For the deer trusted almost no humans, they were not pure.
Heather felt honored and beloved, that he trusted her.

Doomed: From the Journal of a Mad Man

Can I tell you a secret?
Every generation thinks their time is the last greatest struggle 
and that their struggle will be the end of everything. 
Every generation has its precipice and must choose whether to commit suicide or to survive and go on. 
The more skittish men look up and panic! They scream, "THE SKY IS FALLING! WE SHALL ALL PERISH!"
Others that look at the world with more optimistic eyes say 'NO! If we all raise our hands together, we can raise the sky and keep it up above our heads! Tomorrow will come if we try!"
Others who truly know in their hearts that all is lost keep their peace and stay silent.
But the wise look on at all of this chaos and smile. They say, "Wow! I wonder what new sky lies beneath this old one? It must hold much splendor, for why else would it crack and fall? 
Let us welcome what is being born over our heads. 
Let us bear down and survive this falling, and when the chaos again subsides, 
join hands and sing together under a brilliant new sky, 
in a new time."

When the Centrifuge Winds Down

The butterflies flew off some weeks ago.
Pools of blood from my pierced heart have dried up.
My feelings leak insignificant flow -
I no longer drink from passion's sweet cup.

Still, you must realize that love never dies,
for it derives from more than skittish heart.
My soul and my eyes could never disguise -
I still hope that our story soon might start.

Tamer, now - fire, somewhat softer - desire,
but, for all that, hardly less strong or true.
I've guessed from first glance - your face - angel's choir!
I still think it could be right - me and you.

I'll admit - sometimes I taste fear in wait.
But love is patient ... I submit to fate. 

6 May 2023

The Irish Setter

He’s Irish not Scottish or British 
You forget, he’ll get ornery and skittish
He’ll point to his pelt 
Start swearing in Celt
With a splash of some Gaelic and Yiddish

Coy

coy
shy, skittish
inveigling, inviting, enticing
appeal, allure, impudent, impertinent
repelling, revolting, repulsing
cocky, cheeky
bold

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