Snarls Poems | Examples

Ode To The Bin That Betrayed Me

In moonlight's hush, beneath the elm,  
A masked marauder stalks his realm.  
With paws like whispers, eyes like coal,  
He seeks the prize that fills his soul.

But lo! The bin—his ancient foe—  
Stands smug, unyielding, sealed in woe.  
Its lid, a tyrant, cold and tight,  
Dares mock his hunger in the night.

"Have you forgotten?" he snarls with grace,  
"The feast we shared, the sacred place?  
You fed me once, you knew my name,  
Now plastic locks deny my claim."

He leaps! He claws! A ballet grim,  
A pirouette on garbage rim.  
Banana peels and coffee grounds  
Rain down like war drums' hollow sounds.

Neighbors wake to chaos born,  
A furry tempest, rage and scorn.  
Yet in his heart, a deeper ache—  
Not trash, but trust, was theirs to break.

So if you see him, tail askew,  
A poet wrapped in dumpster dew,  
Know vengeance drives his nightly plan—  
The raccoon scorned by a trash can.

Gnarls Knurl the Grip to Fight

after "Do not go gentle into that good night", by Dylan Thomas

Age can not scour away the furrowed gnarls time obeyed,
Nor mask the snarls, gouged as trenches on brows.
Grace knurls the grip that time has long betrayed,
To swage wrath and fury to a form that age endows.

Grace reveres the knurled design that time has hewn,
Not as a defect or flaw, but as grip etched by yen of years,
Like old trees twisted, contorted, too far gone to prune.
It’s grace that cradles calloused scars, not fears.

It’s the gnarls of age that knurls the last grasp of rage
to rebel against the curse of dusk’s encroaching bite.
Stroking the rebellious snarls that ring on anvil stage,
as loved ones bear the thumps and flails of the plight.

It's the gnarls of age that knurls the grip to fight,
against the blight in the coming of good night.

Grace Knurls Decrepit Gnarls

Grace can't grind away the wrinkled gnarls time obeyed,
Nor hide the snarls, ploughed as furrows in the brow.
It carves the knurls for grip that age has disobeyed,
To a shape what decrepit, flailing lovers can still avow.

Grace respects the knurled design that time has hewn,
That's not a flaw, nor fault, but a form that time engraves.
With old branches twisted, scarred, gone too far to prune,
Grace hugs the bumps and twists that life well-spent saves.

It's the gnarls of age that knurls the grip to rage
Against the blight of the coming of the night,
Despite the cranky snarls that ring on anvil swage,
As loved ones bare the brunt of frail days plight.

So let the gnarls knurl the grooves to grip tight.
To fight and rage against the fading of the light.

Unwritten

There is a poem I have yet to write,
a ghost ensnared within the ribs of silence,
a pulse in the throat of absence,
a rhythm swirling down the drain of thought.

I do not pursue it. It resists my touch.
It coils at the edges of understanding,
half-formed, half-wild, shifting, unraveling, reforming—
a thing too untamed for words to hold.

It battles me.
It kicks against the walls of form,
snarls at the entrance of meaning,
teeth bared at the burden of being named.

Some words cannot be tamed.
They resist my structure, defy my hands.
They understand—once I name them,
they are no longer free.

So I unwrite.
I let language collapse,
let ink scatter like startled birds from wire,
let the bones of meaning break
under the weight of undoing,

until nothing remains
but the thing itself—

breathing, pulsing, waiting.

Not every poem is meant to be written.
Some come only to remind me—

I am not the master of the words.
The words are the master of me.

The lizard Wizard

Paranoia guides my gaze to the wall,
Where a dragon stands, fierce and tall.
His tongue flicks with a wicked gleam,
But something’s wrong no fiery fire stream.

He snarls, yet no flames arise,
And sorrow fills my heavy eyes.
"Why, oh dragon, where’s your fire?"
I ask, my heart bound with desire.

His eyes flare up, his fury loud,
Charging at me, dark and proud.
"Can’t you see, you foolish soul?
I’m no dragon, I’ve no such goal."


I’m a wizard, a lizard, lost in disguise,
No fire within, no soaring skies.
I’m just like you, beneath the lies.


Two creatures lost in thoughts of despair,
Floating through space, where stars grow old.

We drift through galaxies unknown,
A world of dust, but our thoughts our throne.

Our thoughts our throne 
Our thoughts our throne..........

Ah Mean Man in the Locker Room

Outfitting himself for wrestling
he sneared at the smiling gentlmen in the locker roomI wanna see how I could not be perfect
see ya'll guy think everything is easy and getting up early
and doing the thing makes you
qualified to be champion.
Snarls the Old man against the the Pretty Guys
Women love em: and the Ladies wanna
get wiff em.
You son's of es: I worked my ass off getting butts in the seats
I wrestled in a horse stable when we couldn't fill the areanas. 
We wrestled at an old abandoned mine
when we couldn't get the fans interested.
then when the crwds picked up
you Sissy es come along and take the spotlight from under us.
I heard you say the Dusk Stalwart was
grion Old and stiff around the collar.
I heard you man: I heard it all.
He's got his gear tonight man,
he's here tonight man
Ah hell I feel like I can face anything!
You guys are gonna learn
what it really takes to be
a self promoting Man!"
I'm gonna go outta my way 
and Learn you Pukeass es!"
"Let's reveal the sky to the masses!"
"Maybe with enough voice ya'll will sing my name to
seranade my new Missus!"

Anger Hides

Anger hides
Behind a gentle gesture
Shouting
How
did you let
this happen
You are there
I know it
See it
In flashes of sadness
In your eyes
In snarls of frustration
On your face
I know
You are present
Lost
In a synaptic maze
And so I search
Angrily
For a way
To find you
To free you
To love the you
That you are

Panther

An isolated silhouette grows
amongst cowering greens as
an aimless impression yonder
trace mimicking lifeless postures. 

Outlines vanish from the capture
as that raises a different outcome,
yet the instinctive mingling seems
to handily host its surroundings.

An uncomfortable challenge awaits
the undaunted souls whose remapping
and charting of the intriguing stranger
that disarms their unused weapons.

A laid-out weave of strong fibers and
the jungle gifts neatly covers it as a
large freshly killed Peccary lies in the
middle. Woosh! Snarls the elusive one!

Gnarled

Age gnarls, weather beats skin to flaky dryness. 
Wrinkles and lines, furrows, knots and blotches
Twist and contort the skin of babies and youths
to a knurled, rough, compliant easy to grip surface.
The rough and worn acrimony of old age,
Despite the crabby, cantankerous snarls and grumbles,
Can be gripped, manipulated and convinced to comply and yield.
For now there is little else to lose, little else to try anew.
It is the gnarls of age that knurls the grip to yield.

Karma Snarls

I got what I deserve
a third rate circumstance
of my own making.

Over the decades
I've downgraded a few times
tossed the good ones aside
and swallowed the rotten.
Now I dream in burlap.
and wear jester boots.

It's too late, I've made my bed 
to late to upgrade
the pitch is to steep.
That's why 
karma 
snarls
at
me.

Wild

A turning restless child she is to me,
Wild nature rises feverish
                      In her bower; dark vines entwine
                            A whirling girl, a dervish.

She turns and turns, a breathless heart 
                    That never takes a beat, until she falls
                            Exhausted from her savage dance
                                    Her laughter loud and fierce.

Hair of leaves and claws of dirt
          Teeth white, she fights with lupine grin, 
                Snarls, rising from deep shadowed earth
                             To spin her violent dance again.          

Feral eyes peer unseen through mine
               And madness glints in gold, 
                     She refuses to be loved or held,
                          Her separation cruel and cold.
                
Un-named, unloved she lives here
      She-wolf, untamed and free 
             Lonely, wild and wanting
                      She devours the world for me.

August Attack

Blow
for now
your heat on
rippling leaves;
unjaded, they don't drop... the pressure snarls 

in veins on leafy cheek's different masks
(too many airs)
color shy—
fallen
raked

Beware

Beware
There’s a monster in the coat rack
He snarls and leers at me
Don’t go too close, he’ll sure attack
I was bit upon the knee.
But if you move, real quiet and quick
And part the coats, you’ll see
My little boy Buster, hiding
In the hall coat tree.

Angry Dog

The angry dog is big and mean
He is strong, agile and lean
His bark is high and gives a fright
As it carries through the night

Touch his food and see him raise
His attack is a surprise
Jaws a blazing, eyes of steel
As he is fighting for his meal

But love he has for his own
His humans, his pack, his home
He paces and snarls and wants to run free
Just so he can follow me.

To the one who is a threat 
Meeting him they will regret
An ambulance will soon be seen
If anyone ever threaten me

His daily hug and kiss
Every morning is my wish
He has much love and a heart of gold
My Shepherd, My Love, My Very Own

The New Dog

Dog toys dog toys dog toys everywhere
but not a one to squeak
Dog treats dog treats dog treats here and there
but not a one to eat.

She's still a puppy
eight months old
But my little Sassy girl
is full grown
She has energy that flashes in burst
and if the old boys are in her way
they end up for the worse
She likes to play and run and run and run
Sassy is a young girl who wants to have fun
Her tail wags strong and she seemed to smile
she thinks of the old boys is her new pals
But Genghis does protest
he growls and snarls and barks at her
To Sassy it sounds like jest
And big old Kublia was afraid of her
he run and hid away
But Sassy likes fat Kublia
and chased him out to play
Sassy finds everything
and spreads it throughout the house
My handkerchief a sock or two
and even a dead mouse
She has such a baby face it's hard to discipline
she'll jump up into my lap and kiss my face
Sassy always wins
One day Kublia sniffed her and found out she's a gal
now he likes Sassy his new friend and pal
No puppies in the future for my little three
they are fixed so from them it's joyful memories.

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