Slyly Poems | Examples

The One Who Stayed

Then she appeared, like morning’s glow,
Through pixel-light our truths would flow.
I swore that love was just a game,
She held my doubts without the shame.

A year we spoke in midnight streams,
Trading hope through fragile dreams.
I gathered courage, soft but true,
“To keep in touch—could that be you?”

Two weeks passed, the silence thin,
Then at 2 a.m., she pulled me in.
We waited years for love’s first spark,
It found me ill, yet warmed my heart.

Thanksgiving night, alone in bed,
Her words, the feast I had instead.
“You’re my girlfriend,” she slyly said,
I teased, “Since when? You’ve not asked yet.”

Her laugh came through like summer air,
“I’m asking now—if you dare.”

Two thousand sixteen marked the start,
Seven days to claim my heart.
Kisses whispered, shadows fled,
We spoke our love in what we said.

The world declared we were all wrong,
But side by side, we both grew strong.

fleeting moon

The quicksilver moon’s not secure in her orbit.
I’ve heard that she’s slyly slipping away,
One and a half inches yearly
so a little bit every day.

I, for one, want her to stay.
‘Oh meritorious silver sister, you have no dark side,
and I’ve grown used to your capricious light,
Why do you only hover at night?”

I think of her as my own
though she wears no ring
like that showy trollop Saturn
Our moon has a higher engagement pattern.

She’s a spectacle for moon-inspired dances
and a cupid for nocturnal animalistic romances.
Have you noticed that sometimes she’s dark
and sometimes she’s bright?

What turns her on?
What turns her off?
That’s always the question with ladies,
isn’t it?
.
.
Songs for this:
Dancing In The Moonlight (feat. NEIMY) by Jubël
Fly Me to the Moon (feat. Izzie Naylor) Shoby
Moonlight Becomes You by Jeff Haislip

Mr and Mrs Heartbroken

The first heart attack was quite mild:
he put it down to indigestion 
at first, but the pain persisted.
Some pills and lectures on lifestyle changes
followed the stay in hospital.
Yes, he'd try to stop smoking, he said,
and to cut out the fatty foods.
But the craving for cigarettes 
was too strong and he secretly smoked,
while assuring me that he'd quit!
The next heart attack was much worse;
he really did try after that -
a fat-free diet was no fun
and nicotine patches were no help...
but he stuck to it for a while
(I think it was a week, maybe two).
Then I smelt the smoke on his clothes,
saw him wolfing down bacon sandwiches,
slyly like a naughty schoolboy.
By then I pretended I didn't know - 
my nagging was killing him, he said.
The third heart attack finished him.
I'm heartbroken that his heart was broken...

The Dog

Alone,
the dog outrides the flock,
warning away the terrors of night.
He sees
the cheery glow of the shepherds’ fire,
murmured talk and quiet laughter
float past him softly
on the chill autumn breeze.
He longs
to sit with them beside the light,
sharing avidly
(tongue lolling,
 slyly smiling)
in their good-natured jokes
but that is not his place:
He is a dog and no man
and his place is outside
in the dark, a sentinel.

He sees
the sleeping flock,
pressed body to body to hold their warmth,
and longs
to lie in their midst as one of them,
dreaming sheeply dreams,
but that is not his place:
He is a dog and no sheep
and must remain awake outside
to guide strays back to the fold.

The flock stirs anxiously and bleats.
His ears prick, he hears it too,
the tugging untamed howl
of wild wolves in the night.
The ancient wolf in him
longs
to melt into the forest,
romping with them
on their feral haunts,
but that is not his place either:
He is a dog and no wolf
and his place is beside the flock.

Snippets of Spring vol 2

Lyricism of wisteria ruses…peacocking muses gushing tomes

Classicism flocking..roams & woos homes not garden gnomes

Colourful creepers cruising..schmoozing with boisterously blushing bricks

Spring exudes mysticism..oozes oodles of bamboozling serendipity flushing

Cherished fingers rushing freely..delivers..unctuous ravishingly rambunctious

Relished slivers lavishly lingers..embellished..proudly protrudes

Inspires rhyming platitudes about gratitude...fires fresh

Attitudes across a range of altitudes & latitudes

Sprinkling wryly of vintner's drily sparkle...ends strange debacle...

Skint stints of wily skinflint winter’s splinters..with hints of now..Spring sprints

But also somehow.. if one squints..get an inkling of change..

Glints of summer's tints slyly twinkling

Queenly

I look at myself in the mirror quickly
Satisfied with what i saw, i smiled sweetly
With a head held high i walked out confidently
all eyes were staring at me intently
Whats with me they think deeply?
So i smile slyly.
I know im not that pretty, 
Nor i cannot be that sexy,
But believe me, i can make u look twicely!
I have the grace and aura that u want so badly,
And just because you cant act like me exactly,
U started to hate me willingly,
So you try to imitate me desperately
But darling, U failed completely :)

A Pathological Lier

She weaves her truths with thread so thin,
The needle slips and lies begin.
A charming grin, a steady gaze—
Yet words distort in subtle haze.

She speaks of feats she’s never done,
A war she fought, a race she won.
No shame, no pause, no hint of doubt,
Just tales that twist themselves about.

A shifting past, a fiction’s bloom,
Each room she enters, truth makes room.
She swears with oaths and vows so grand,
Yet truth slips slyly from her hand.

She mirrors back what others crave,
Then digs a deeper, softer grave.
No guilt, no fear, just practiced flair—
Her stories float like smoke in air.

But watch the cracks behind the eyes,
Where the truth is hidden and meaning dies.

they're here already

Trump slyly picked Fox eye catchers
His heinous doctrine dispatchers
That from seed pods hatched!
Are we now outmatched
Invaded by body snatchers?

Love Impasse

Love Impasse

I am not ashamed to say it—
I trace demons of you in the stars—
perhaps because I cry at your abandon,
for once, you were the riddle in my bones.

But do I blame?
No—I should have known
where our paths split,
where an anxious exit waited slyly—
maybe I, too,
left constellations behind.

I rarely trust
simplicity of things
thanks to your abandon.

All I know is that I Loved you—
and have Loved you
and Love you—
But I could never lay my full self
in the tide of your shifting light,
nor could I assuage the storms
you held so close.

Though you are silent,
your thoughts pervade me
like serpents 
silent as a crypt,
but hissing inwardly…
bleeding inwardly—

your presence in the sky sears me—
I have been woven into 
your tumultuous pulse—
but the question remains:
do you feel the weight of me?

I see where my hands have cut you,
now that I bear the scars you left
just as deeply.

I have searched the ashes and all ends
for something that could spark
what we dismally buried—
a single ember—
a Hell—that
could heat up the crushing cold places
we once deemed Love.

Crisscrossing

Every doorway is well lit yet barred and locked.
This is my dream body, it is chasing its twilit shadow
down blind alleyways
pausing only to heave breathlessly
as it comes to a stop
in yet another walled-off cul-de-sac.

Daylight couples slyly with moonlight,
it forms a vaporous union that creeps under skin,
We are two hands and a mouth,
weak hands scratching upon a lid of fear.

We call such mind-hauntings: nightmares,
yet they seem so very real
as we fretfully slumber -
then they chase us remorselessly
through our daily lives.

Why record such fantasies,
these myriad variations of horror?
Why relive the frights, the needling frets
of these subconscious ghost trains - images
that fly through all our darkly hidden spaces.

Perhaps only to share an elusive puzzle-picture,
to reach into other sequestered minds
that may experience the same
other-worldly hinterlands, the same fear-threads,

and there know we are crisscrossing
the same unidentifiable landscapes
all of us have created for ourselves.

Penny Hoe

In the corner of the room, you slyly creep,
With your two cents ready, promises to keep,
A dime-store detective, prying in my space,
You're such a penny hoe, you never leave a trace.

Whispered conversations, you twist and you weave,
Like a spider in the shadows, never wanting to leave,
Why not rub those two cents together with glee,
And let that gossip churn like a stormy sea?

With a wink and a smirk, you dive right in,
Making sense of stories that you'd never been in,
Your curiosity's boundless, a relentless itch,
Oh, darling, you’re such a nosy little witch!

Why not take a step back, let the silence breathe?
Instead of peeking over, like a thief in the leaves,
Every little secret you prickle and pry,
Painting tales on the canvas of night’s quiet sky.

So here's to the moments when you choose to refrain,
To hold back those cents, stop pouring out your rain,
Just for a second, let my life be my dance,
And spare us the drama, give peace a chance.

2024

Music man

I once knew a music man,  remembering his callous palms, he had natural charm and a gift to be effortlessly lyrical


This music man ,that I once knew, possessed such character like no other.
Many Quirks, his smirks and simultaneously original.

I later learned this man of music had premeditated moves, oblivious and in a trance, I missed the unforgivable.

A man of music ,set the tone , one of which coloured slyly cynical. 

Maybe it was his dreamy eyes, mysteriously dark and mystical. 

They say love is blind but in this case, I believe my love was deaf

As I danced along to his melody, of written verses critical 

I once thought I knew a music man, how presumptions of me and empirical. 

Was I just another catchy chorus of his, and to him typically predictable

Eating from the Tree of Misinformation

Near the edge of democracy’s garden
sprouted the Tree of Misinformation,
quickly growing into the largest tree
with leafy branches broad and long and tall.

Though toxic was its eye-catching fruit,
many ate the deceptive apples
that clouded their minds
and blinded their eyes.

They could not even perceive
the clear, self-evident truth
that a deceitful serpent
had slyly seduced them.

Fanatically following the swindler,
angrily amplifying audacious lies,
they spread wide more tainted seeds
throughout the lush fertile garden.

Will the garden wither into wastelands
littered in reeking, rotting fruit and minds,
while the people perish
not understanding why?


(This poem was inspired by the not-nearly-so-dark Oct. 8, 2024 Frank & Earnest cartoon by Bob Thaves as well as the equally dark Garden of Eden story in Genesis 2 and darker-still political events. See also my poems “How Would Jesus Vote?” and “The 2023rd Psalm.”

The Recluse

“the beauty of the rainbow mind
I chase in the introvert realm
following the flashes of mirage”
Quote by Poet


mind molded in webbed design
strands of many hues patterned
strange motifs not unified 
in unorganized psyche

in its fold dark secrets hide
not known to the outside world 
taciturn mind never cares
it slyly bears the burden

captive of my own making
I discern all my dreams break
hurt introvert senses whine 
I suffer mutely alone. 

I then turn to Narcissus
find me chase melting mirage 
to the oasis of joy
where I’m with me as recluse

Where I Am Me

In the deluge of the surging river of life
my senses sink in the secret depth undefined, 
flood me with the engulfing cacophony of strife,
as the remains of unique essence I strive to find.

I search for me in the realm of disharmony
to hear the sensual song of covert consciousness
resonate in the disguised solitude of frozen agony
within the self-explored niche of my soul’s recess.

In the live network of intricate design,
layer on layer my lonesome mind is stratified.
The strata of the instinctive awareness then align,
as the unique personal patterns are slyly unified.

Many attributes of sole distinction gain 
access to the fold of furtive psychic identity,
transcend the uncertain limits of joy and pain, 
stimulate the senses to become perceptive sanctity.

I reach within as reflective explorer’s entity,
discern the enlightened soul in the bay of bliss,
suffusing me with supreme quintessence of divinity,
I get liberated from the deplorable depth of dark abyss.

That’s the persona I secretly foster, people don’t see
behind the superficial screen of singularity where I am me.

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