Sneakily Poems | Examples

Timber Rattlesnake

I am a timber rattlesnake
my venom is highly dangerous
I can damage your nervous system
sneakily waiting to strike you with my tongue
lying under a stack of logs as quiet as I can be

LOVE THINE ENEMY

The cat on his mat
Caught sight of a rat,
Sneakily stealing his food.
Which was a disgrace;
He ought to give chase.
But he wasn’t in the mood.

They started to chat,
The cat and the rat
And very soon became friends.
So that’s how they stay
To this very day.
And that’s how the story ends.

Maybe Tomorrow

Maybe tomorrow my ink won’t be sticky
A verse will take shape as it flows
I’ll see what I’ve written and won’t be too picky
From now on it’s anything goes

Maybe tomorrow I’ll write about sorrow
Keep ‘funny’ for some other day
My pen will find ideas to sneakily borrow
No copyright shall bar its way

Maybe tomorrow my pen will advise me
By writing two letters: ‘A.I.’
My scruples tell me I could never agree
So, maybe I’ll pass that one by

Maybe tomorrow my pen shall not wander
Alas it shall write not at all
Integrity isn’t a value to squander
A man and his pen must stand tall

Maybe tomorrow I’ll find inspiration
My pen shall be truly enthralled
I’ll write a whole poem, to my consternation
Lest my pen should be quite appalled

Maybe tomorrow my pen will run loose
With notions, some free and some weird 
Maybe my pen will shrug off all abuse
And write silly stuff less afeared

Maybe tomorrow I’ll have an idea
That my pen can pick up and run with
About an aardvark that went into IKEA
I’m a poet… so live and let live!

Sunday Thinking Cap

I wore my thoughts on my head like a ball cap today

Ready to take off and disregard

or to turn around, tilted in the opposite direction

Easy to grab at, to throw away, to steal,

to sneakily hide a lost trinket underneath.

I am unbalanced like a scale

trying to measure dancers

as they prance about unwavering to any schedule or song.

I am a thrash of discombobulated noises and symphonies,

never harmonizing quite right but still quite beautifully 

Imperfect.

I wore my heart in my hair today, let it ruffle in the wind

allowed the speed of an old beat up car roar its engines

like it was reliving her glory days

and I was alive again.

I hung my past up on the clotheslines in my backyard to dry out,

but it rained and that seems to be the story of my life. 

At the end of the day

my thoughts are all but worn out completely

ready to be chucked away like a sweat drenched Sunday thinking cap.

Gonna Keep On A-Gawking

For a man of my age, I should no longer dream
Of pretty young fillies, quite naughty it seems

But we don't lose the joy to gawk and to stare
When the sweet scent of female fills up the air

Sure hope I don't lose it, this wonderful feeling
While sneakily snatching looks that I am stealing

Girls are aware of the scene they're creating
Of many great memories this sight is relating

The happiest times when we all were much younger
These precious memories haven't lost their thunder

When seeing an old codger hardly able to walk
Still straining his eyes, to stare and to gawk

That primordial instinct is never far away
It still hangs around till our very last day

So all my buckaroonies please do take heart
At one hundred years old it can still joy impart

Trust me I'm honest as the day is long
Life still keeps singing its same old sweet song

Obsessed... I guess you could say that I am
Gonna keep on a-gawking for as long as I can

wrap, wrap, rap

Lisa and I wrap and rap for Christmas.
Can you imagine the two of us doing that?

We’ve got Christmas playlists going
Christmas scented candles glowing,
and milky hot-chocolate flowing.

“Stir the marshmallows with the candy canes,”
Lisa says, like that’s something she has to explain.

We’re humming, singing and laughing,
and dancing because we’re happy.

We’re dashing to finish our wrapping,
we can’t have our suitemates catching
us executing the plans we’re hatching
to surprise them with gifts, enchanting.

The paper’s exotic, delicate and glittery
bought at Boyars Gifts, in New York City.

Why do the scissors keep getting lost?
Getting low on scotch-tape - we’ve used a lot.

We’ll be putting them, sneakily, under the tree
where they’ll add glamor and tease to our festivities.

I love the lights of the season - I love giving gifts.
For me, playing Santa is as good as it gets.
.
.

At the Atlanta Zoo

In all of the United States,
Four pandas still remain,
Until next year, when they’ll return
Back home to their terrain.

So being in Atlanta,
Where these bears are on display,
We visited the zoo and had
A most delightful day.

Of course, we watched the pandas
As they munched on their bamboo,
But there were much more interesting
Animals on view.

My favorites were gorillas,
For we saw them interact,
As they beat their chests at kith or kin
Then sneakily attacked.

The pandas got us to the zoo
And I’m so glad they did,
The way aromas can entice 
To what’s beneath the lid.

Green Grannie Faerie

Green granny faerie ends up on the Subway express
Every St Patrick’s day and her hair is a mess.
She tells tales about witches, goblins and such.
No one can shush her, her cheeks are all flush.

She is excited like a little girl, she has a happy face.
The subway riders know her and treat her with grace.
Magical green granny faerie, who appears once a year.
Disappears as sneakily and quickly as she doth appear.

Path of Friends

Like a finger drawing on foggy glass,  
You peak sneakily through clouds as you pass,
High above me as I lay on the grass.
I could fall into you – will your dark side want to?
You show me something new – I will howl at the view.
But before you sneak off out of my sight,
Rest with me here in the fading daylight.
Confess to me what you have seen at night.
The waves would wash you clean – More forgiving than mean
Closer then you have been – spin and be truly seen. 
Like you, I try and weather pain with class.
I wonder where I would be without you.
In our darkest, I know we’ll be alright,
Although I know the space is vast between.

Amen

We are the last animals on earth,
Sneakily chasing elephants,
In the perilous bush, o Delight!
Eating frogs with forks
And sweet sour cream,
Reading books to dream about lazy whales,
The last animals,
Raising lions in traveling circuses,
To slaughter sheep in the name of God Almighty,
We are the last animals
Running away from hungry bears in the snowy Rockies,
To steal honey from worshipping bees, o Delight!
The last animals to change color, pain,
To whip the green asses in Sichuan,
The last animals on earth,
Feeding yellow birds in wicker cages,
To frighten the ostriches with large black feathers,
Breathing in the golden aurora jungle,
Living alone under the fast clouds,
We are the last animals, o Delight!
Capturing butterflies in picture books,
To tear the dresses with pink and high flowers
Impudic women, sweet strawberries,
To the delight of white panthers with sharp claws,
Really people, tell me, aren’t we wild animals?
Amen.

Brick Boo Boos

Under my breath I cuss and mutter
As I step on lego clutter
They sneakily stick inside my feet
All the pain I can't delete
They're like ninjas in the night
And I can't win this ouchie fight

The Month of December

I don’t remember
The month of December
So sneakily showing its face.
The previous seasons
It must have its reasons
For choosing to somehow erase.

Since, like a magician,
What’s come to fruition
Is something we didn’t expect:
The year’s close to ending
And there’s no defending
To-do lists with boxes unchecked.

Yet we must keep hoping
That we’ll still be coping
With every curve life seems to throw,
For age has us finding,
As months keep unwinding,
We’ll never learn all we can know.

Kissed

I think we all love kisses, like flowers love the sun.
They can be meaningful, deep and scandalous or fun.

You might briefly, sneakily, steal a kiss,
you can blow a kiss or condone a kiss,
emblazon every girl or boy you know with a kiss,
postpone a kiss, or bemoan a kiss as hormones,
but you can’t keep a kiss or own a kiss,
because they’re never more than half your own kiss -
sadly, as we’ve all learned, you just can’t kiss alone.
Every kiss is a puzzle, an experiment requiring a team
you may not even understand a kiss, or exactly what it means.

As far as kisses go, I’ve only had a few. I blame that dam
pandemic, they certainly weren’t something I eschewed.
I wish I had specific tips for girls with quick, impulsive lips
which somehow never can resist a flirty, kissing apocalypse.
Your roommates will support you, with only a few quips
but you really can’t keep doing this, you’ve got to get a grip.

In the Space Where You Were

It doesn’t matter these days,

if I don’t check the door's shut

when I bring out the trash,

or gossip with the neighbor.

If I don’t come home for

days on end, it's no big deal.

It happens so easily, already:

this learned nonchalance

that breaks my heart anew.

Slipping in so sneakily,

without warning or regret,

in the empty space

where you once were.

Nature Versus Mankind

Metropolitan city, a fast-paced city   
            Tantalizing desires, dazzling fame stealthily bound to disintegrate 
Swelling population, clustered houses, disparity among people, gazing with pity 
High ambition, stiff competition, insensitive attitude sneakily tend to deflate  

                        Flashback memories come to foresight together  
Once, dense woods stand tall, creatures under one roof altogether  
A mark of solidarity and in cohesion, help each other

      Drooping trees bemoan, ‘How callous mankind axe us for pleasure’
            ‘How anyone tear us apart, lament in displeasure 
                        Selfish and greedy, in equal measure. 

Confronting setbacks, man with nature hasten to discuss nitty- gritty 
            Realized, hankering after mundane objects, inner self tend to degenerate 
      Thereafter, exchange pleasantry with one-another
                        Harmony and unity exist, a priceless, glorious treasure.


                        THIRD PLACE
DATED: 01.08.2021
CONTEST: WRITING PROMPT-FRAGMENTED SPACES POETRY CONTEST
SPONSORED BY: CONSTANCE LA FRANCE

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