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.
Categories:
snaggle, poems, poetry,
Form: Free verse
He was a hatchet-faced guy with snaggle-teeth,
most said he was okay in a peculiar way.
It happens sometimes;
snaggle-toothed hatched faced guys get itchy,
the kind of itch you can't buy a cream for.
After his first three murder victims
he confessed to the cops
that he felt like the very hand of God!
He was a squirrely guy if you know what I mean,
with horsy snag-teeth that grinned
all friendly-like,
yet I always sensed a hatchet
raised above my head
when he smiled my way
and he smiled a lot.
Categories:
snaggle, poetry,
Form: Free verse
He was a hatchet-faced guy and snaggle-toothed.
Most said he was a good guy,
but sometimes it happens
with snaggle-toothed hatched faced guys,
in time they get itchy,
the kind of itch you can't buy a cream for.
After the first murder he felt better,
after the second, better still,
after the third he felt like the very hand of God.
He was a hatchet-faced guy if you know what I mean.
Tread gently around such folks,
even when they smile at you -
especially when they smile at you.
Categories:
snaggle, poetry,
Form: Free verse
On Halloween the spirits rise and walk this ancient planet, once again. Put out your jack-o-lanterns to keep them away from your door. Make them scary and snaggle toothed to get those ghouls and goblins, running. Witches and ghosts are different lots so send them running from a bonfire; they’ll be sorry they met you.
On moonlit nights like,
Halloween among the trees;
Shadows will be seen.
Brother Moon casts his
Light and banishes specters,
Through the hallowed night.
Categories:
snaggle, dark, halloween, holiday, horror,
Form: Haibun
On morning-time drives, my daughter and I,
Would sing along songs which rarely were heard,
That music was playing seems to defy,
My recollection of photographs blurred;
Vividly now, still I see Ava there,
Rockin’ like Bono with snaggle-tooth grins,
Smilin’ at daddy from her special chair,
Laughter erupting as answers to questions;
Yet, somewhere near where my health went astray,
Were magical moments stolen from us,
Now only silence do memories play,
While tearful sonnets are written as thus;
So to my daughter, I say with all love,
Let’s sing again soon, my morning-time dove.
Categories:
snaggle, daughter, father daughter,
Form: Sonnet
Side Note: This next poem is an old poem from high school that WAS, and I repeat WAS based off a dream I once had of an old crush I had who I no longer think of and thank God for that! That guy was a f**king ugly snaggle-tooth pisher Lolzx. Anyway, here is my poem "As I Run Away". Please comment and enjoy!
I sit in a room,
All alone.
Until you come.
You're a distance away,
I grab my shoes,
And run for the door.
You call my name,
And I stop for a second.
As you come closer,
I run out the front door.
You try to catch me,
But I'm too fast,
I run further away.
I finally lose you,
But I keep going.
I get away from you.
I won't turn back now.
I've come too far,
As I run away from you...
Categories:
snaggle, farewell, hurt,
Form: Free verse
Our Hannah with her snaggle tooth
Is prettier and that's the truth
Than any sultry movie star
Who gets her beauty from a jar.
She's just turned six years old and so
Her baby teeth are primed to go;
But one, reluctant to vamoose,
Just hangs in there, relaxed and loose.
Our Hannah doesn't seem to mind,
She is not the conceited kind
And has more things to think about
Than a laggard tooth, that won't fall out.
Those who have offered her assistance
Have met with six-year old resistance
And though our Hannah isn't vain
She has a low threshold for pain.
If you chance to see beguiling grin,
With a tooth that is more out than in,
You have seen our Hannah, there's no doubt.
With her baby tooth that won't fall out.
Categories:
snaggle, childhoodbaby, old, baby, old,
Form: Light Verse
As dawn cracks the sky
and yellow light leaks through
The neighbourhood oracle begins her day,
sets out her stall on the corner near the station
"The end is coming"
The newspaper boy in his sister's scarf
snatched in haste too early this morning,
just before dawn,
yawning he peddles past the prophetess.
Her long hair writhes,
arms paddle the air
like a swimmer, only grimmer,
then, grinning at the boy on his bike.
"Ha you! Think you can fly!
Come to Jesus"
Over the Eastern roof tops
the dawn light gleaming
Mabel is born again,
beaming her snaggle tooth smile
"Joy today! The kingdom is come!
Repent!"
She has her reasons,
though parts of her story
her pain, her history, are a mystery
In all seasons, all weathers, every morning
while the sun slowly clambers
into the sky,
Mad Mabel, the local oracle
with twenty seven
assorted bags, eleven teeth,
and three bibles
is born again.
And we are all doomed.
Categories:
snaggle, life, people, social, light,
Form: Free verse