Existence, existing and then
the emptying out, the exit.
X marks the spot
where dots are always laid to rest.
I have been pulling a little red meat wagon
existing just before
its hard rubber wheels,
the wagon goes clickity clack,
snick-itty-snit, bumpety bump
uphill or below,
it is eager to run me down
always keen to bark my heels
as I drag it over a shadow shoulder
of a pre & post
being.
On-board
a self-dissolving, yet always open mouth,
must consume
its spiced drops of acid and honey.
It sometimes sleeps,
sometimes dreams,
it is a presence of a presence,
just a hairsbreadth between
this now, and not now - gulp
of living.
Inevitably, we will part,
separated by the raw knuckles
of push and pull,
until a lit exit door
in a long defunct shopping mall
lights our way
to the promise of oneness.
Categories:
snick, poetry,
Form: Free verse
DON’T BE A TURKEY
O Tom, he has wisdom and marmite.
Others they like spreading delight-
ful vegemite,
which seems quite spite-
ful. Still Tom does think they’ll try a bite.
What think you, of stuffing a turkey?
You’d rather eat marmite on crusty
thick bread? A smile
and all the while
your friends, over vegemite, lusty.
So don’t be a turkey, dear Tom, sir.
That jar, with its cap, away with her.
Your friends be snick-
ering…a trick,
while they have a lick of their spoons, sir.
10/14/2022
Categories:
snick, humor,
Form: Limerick
I crave sticky butter mint balls
Liquorice allsorts from the candy stalls
Orange smarties, my favourite treat
Violet crumbles I just love to eat
English toffees for me to masticate
Chocolate drops make me salivate
Aniseed balls would paint my tongue red
Nougat or should I choose fruit gums instead
Dime bars and snickers too much temptation
Yikes! my waistline spread’s caused aggravation!
Message In An Acrostic 2 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Kim Rodrigues
09/07/21
Categories:
snick, candy, humorous,
Form: Acrostic
We're awoken
not ready
to awaken
another long,
long and dreary
weary
to the bones
day
to face.
circles
sat in circles
spoke
talked in circles
my
pain
any worse
than
any others?
and
did it
yours?
On
and on
day
after day
talked
an
talked
talking
or
just words
spilling
dribbling
out
to lie
on the floor
swept out
like cigarette
buts.
Paper cups
tiny
multi-coloured
speckles
like M&M's
mouth open
wide
spots
swallowed
all
gone
to bed
snick
the lock
start again
over
again tomorrow
and
tomorrow
and
tomorrow
.......
will it
END?
Categories:
snick, angst, depression, mental illness,
Form: Free verse
FOR YOU NICOLE
The night the blood on the sod
Looks your birthday apron that
Wipes off a murderer's sweat.
Hands besmeared with slime,
Smell of putrid snick,maniac
Who has to inherit a corner of
Underbrush,Nicole, to lie
On your cold lips.
Poe in Plath style - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: July Morning
POET: RAJAT KANTI CHAKRABARTY
10th February, 2018
Categories:
snick, death, mystery,
Form: Free verse
Snowbound snowflakes sneakily snip and snick the snowy snickering air.
Categories:
snick, snow, winter,
Form: Alliteration
Imagine this.
I belong in a cage.
Imagine this.
I’ve escaped.
Imagine this.
You’re to blame.
Imagine this.
I know your name.
Imagine this.
I live to kill you.
Imagine this.
I crave to still you.
To leave your body on the ground,
Bloody, destroyed, disemboweled.
Imagine this.
It will be slow.
Imagine this.
Blood will flow.
Imagine this.
If you can
Imagine this.
Your head in a pan.
Your organs, bones, fluids and glands,
You’re staring at them, in your hands.
Imagine this.
When your vision fades.
Imagine this.
The snick of my blades
When away from this world you bade,
Serrated, rusty, home-made.
Imagine this.
I belong in a cage.
Where what kept us alive
Was our fueling rage,
Where you died vision went hazy.
Wouldn’t you too go crazy?
With psychopaths, schizophrans,
Where the taste of blood was like the back of your hand.
Where I happily stacked bodies in a circular henge.
Now imagine this.
I want my revenge.
Categories:
snick, crazy, dark, death, scary,
Form: Verse
The playful snick, snack snickering.
A small little bite, nibble, lick.
As if there was never bad blood between us.
We giggle, goggle, oggle.
Over boys, celebrities, gossip.
Braiding hair, painting toes, looking at love and woes.
Never letting the impending doom get between us.
The glue of fake nails drying fast now.
And as I look back now,
a tear falls down my cheek,
like that of rain pouring down upon the earth.
And I'd smile like the sun within the clouds.
The playful snick, snack, snickering.
All around me now.
Lost in memories of that of a clown.
Categories:
snick, imagination
Form: Free verse
A dash of red
Sparkle of cream and white
And the battered ball has flown up and away
Soaring out of reach of the flying kite
Over the stately poplars
Beyond applauding stands
Mingling with sun and wind
and the lazy blue of a smiling sky
Lost from sight
That ball was lifted some
Take a new one
The Captain resets his field
Has a word with gully and deep cover
And whispers to his puzzled pacer
A word of encouragement
A spot of advice !
Roaring he comes
And pitches this one short
It rises menacingly
To snick the halting yellow edge of fright
Dangling bat
Red ball in cosy comfort
Dead in smiling keeper’s hands
Howzzat ??
Oh, quite !
Categories:
snick, allegory
Form: Free verse
(a swap quatrain rhyme)
She likes to nip; she likes to lick.
My foot might get a little prick.
I’ll see it’s her. That little pip!
She likes to lick. She likes to nip.
Attacking me with small cat teeth,
she comes at me from underneath.
She bites my toes so sneakily
with small cat teeth, attacking me!
In her small mind, it’s just a game,
but I don’t like it all the same!
To nip and run, my cat’s inclined.
It’s just a game in her small mind.
A paper scrap she’ll start to shred.
And when I wish that she, instead,
would come and sit upon my lap,
she’ll start to shred a paper scrap!
In moments sweet, she licks my hand.
Those times are fleeting and unplanned,
but for her mistress, they’re a treat.
She licks my hand in moments sweet.
She gives a lick. She gives a nip;
I’d rather feel her small tongue’s tip
upon my skin than one small snick.
She gives a nip; she gives a lick.
for Brian Strand's 'COMPLETELY YOUR CHOICE (6)any form any theme' Contest
Categories:
snick, cat, me,
Form: Rhyme
The crispness of your knife goes snick!
Cutting up my dreams like celery,
To make hors d’oeuvres that you, Time, pick
And gobble till you’ve swallowed me.
But while you cut, your blade will knick
Hard upon my iron bone;
It trims me to the very quick—
But still, my skull will dull its hone.
Categories:
snick, time
Form: Verse