Splotchy Poems | Examples

She Trusted the Stars

She placed her dreams in starshine's bright design 
where she believed the galaxy would guard them
from incidents and accidents that might shard them. 
She trusted stars to lifelong harmonize love's song.

Wearing confident styles, she traversed fickle miles
before finding a grand love that would surely thrive. 

Now, she barely manages life or pajamas without strife.
Gone is her strong and else she wished meant to belong.
Her frantic emotions fast crashed in gray-bashed static
and just her sofa holds her in tear splotchy folds.

Wishing to be free of depressions dark torture spree,
she lives with heart bruises and painful mind debris.
Numbness blurs her pathetic in swirls of decrepit
that pick at her feel-fabric already shredded traumatic.

She cannot define when their end started its doomed sway
but recalls when he left with her 'besty' on a final, total away.

Tears of a clown

In the halcyon hush of twilight meadows, 
 a clown carves laughter from hydrangea elixir, 
 his smile — a fuchsia epitaph, 
 hidden behind a dazzling white glow. 

Sparkling countless orbs drift from his broken pockets, 
 ghosts grow wishes in splotchy shade, 
 each sangria song he sings 
 splinters against the opalescent primrose sky. 

Serendipitously, sorrow stitches his grin — 
 a mystical black ballet performed 
 for an audience of lustrous fireflies. 

Coral summer nights smell wonderful to others, 
 but he drifts alone in purple dreams, 
 his burgundy luna heart heavy with 
 psychedelic echoes of forgotten cheers. 

Spree silvery jewels tumble down his cheeks — 
 not laughter, but 
 the silent fabric of darkness knit with marvel, 
 where every jest 
 hides another tear.

The Morning After

The lightning danced all through the night
To wrought a festival of fire
That put to torch in blackened blight,
And scorched the forest like a pyre

Now, petroglyphs of nature’s arts
In splotchy ash ‘cross craggy scarp,
Are scarred background to blackened ghosts
Now frozen in escapement’s warp.

The energy of blackened woods
And flora from the forest floor
Has left behind the fertile goods
Of nascence sown, as evermore.

she had fried her face

Lee had fried her face
She had fried her hair
Sitting in the sun
Outside her beachfront lair

She was all spotted now
Her skin was mottled and wrinkled.
Her face was splotchy like a cow
Her neck was hard and crinkled

You fried your face!
You fried your hair!
This was said by her sister.
Lee replied “I don’t care!”

Secrets

There is something we all have
Inside us, both good and bad
That can cause A splotchy stain
Of despair, sorrow and pain
Revenge and payback can unseal
Things that shouldn't be revealed
Trusted to be locked away
Where it should forever stay
But sometimes anger is the key
To unlock this mystery
Breaking all the faith and trust
Of golden friendships into rust
Or this hidden pinky swear
Is a happy joy affair
Full of laughter and good times
An occasion where you find
Decorations, food and fun
Friends and family have begun
A surprise that will WOW
Shocking someone here and now
With great news so wondrous
A day of love and nothing less
So depending on what's told
Whether it is big and bold
Or amazing and so kind
There will be a place and time
Secrets always find a way
To make or destroy someones day

Grocery Poem Xii

A gray and white cat sidles up 
	against the splotchy green dumpster
and meows despite himself.

The plastic lid slams hard at the end
of another long shift. It sounds desperately final
like the North Springs station, or the highest note

of a violin.

Backface

what face? his back
we face
an umbrella  in space
a splotchy coat embrace
striped pants

dark yellow and orange canopy
his countenance red hat  you see

atmospheric happiness
of blue powder, lavender and pink

quintessential canvas
of Peter Max
pop artistry
   j   a     z z

if it’s raining
   it’s    raining

J          O         Y

9/2/2022
Sponsor: Brian Strand

Back In the Woods

A rainy hike following mud trails.
It’s a Cadillac ‘Fleetwood’
here in the back woods!

A car crumbling out of memory.
Layers of rust have layers of moss,
a film of bird  adds a splotchy frost
to the crud.
Not many Cadillac bones are left,
just metallic tree ruins and
the verdigris of blight.

Tired, wet, and bedraggled,
I wish I could have pulled that car
out of the past
and driven it home.

Carousel Mirrors

I remember childhood carousel mirrors,
antique, ornate, intoxicating, glimmering,  
glinting, gleaming, turning,
calliope piping, toy top twirling, shimmering.
I remember all those early years of yearning.

I remember grainy analog TV,
pallid, pasty-faced, fuzzy vestiges,
wavy-gray shadow-shades so giddy.
I remember the vapid, vacant egregious,
the dull corporate thievery of the airwaves.

I remember polychromatic butterflies,
splodgy, splotchy, wavy, Lepidoptera, 
dewy glorious mornings playing in a puerile land.
I remember wispy pastels, childish whispered chimera hopes.
We all wanted to believe in the carousel.

I remember wooden yearlings swirling,
ponies pumping, rolling, my resemblance careening,
my semblance of being aspiring in glittery silvery sterling.
I remember so many seraphs pirouetting, 
all silently streaming, mercifully redeeming. 
I remember childhood carousel mirrors.

Back of the Woods

A rainy hike
following mud trails.
It’s a Cadillac ‘Fleetwood’
here in the back woods!

A car crumbling out of memory.
Layers of rust have layers of moss,
a film of bird crap adds a splotchy frost
to the crud.  
Not even Cadillac bones are left,
just metallic tree ruins and
the verdigris of blight. 

Tired, wet and bedraggled,
I wish I could have pulled that car
out of the past
and driven it home.

A Blemished Sky

splotchy clouds

squeeze billions of

raindrops

from a blemished

sky bruised with purplish

charcoal grey

blotches

as lightning

flashes

and thunder

accost the

the face of heaven

summoning the mournful

tears
 
of weeping angels


(Yalto)


07,16,2019

Was That Life

was that life
feedle ing me
my memwires
meaning
for
myself
in
cluded


time has separated
here i lay on moonbeams
reconciliation
never
was
me


corners stretch out
for
an
circle

she has brutalized me
my thoughts grown love
somber
as
was


still my touch
remains


steal my touch
from
stains


minds before eyes
mine before eyes
naked
as
flesh
was born
womb split
intentions
split me
splotchy
clot me
fingers penetrate the skin
razor is stretched to the mind
ink reaches for me continually
is
it
ink
or
was that life
?

Lasagna Alone

I am eating lasagna
In an unfinished room
By myself all alone
Music plays backwards
In the absence of moonlight
Middle of day
Somewhere else
I can't see the stars
And I think about Harry
Just ent'ring the bank
Overwhelmed
Excitedly taking it in
Thirty more minutes
Of ad-free music
And it's not so cold
Not in here
Not as cold as it is
Where I was
The walls are gray
And splotchy white
The lights
Out
Is the electricity
Back on?
Will I ski
On Wednesday?
Hans Castorp will
Breaking rules
It was just
A little anemia
He was only 
A little anemic
Take me away
Take me to Der Zauerberg
Thin air
Away
Away
So far away
But they won't let me sleep
Verge of tears
But a smile spills out
It's a mess, I'm a mess
But I don't care to clean
So I'll call it art
I'm not painting pretty
Not anymore
I'm something else
A piece
Of abstract
Art

A Photoshopped Life

I awake royal blue
It fades to a teal
Just a different hue
To change my appeal

Come noon, neon yellow
Before long, an off white
For a moment I'm mellow
Seeing the light

Everyday, come supper
I'm as red as an apple
A weathered fixer upper
Splotchy and dappled

Much too often
My colors bleed out
I find myself caught in
A saturation drought 

My contrast, I tweak
Adjusting my vibrance
For hidden hues, I seek
In hopes to enhance

Sometimes I find
I'm underexposed
I can't see when I'm blind
Or fix what doesn't show

In desperate moments
I click delete
Though the process is dense
Again, I'll repeat

Often I'll distort
Overindulge in a tone
An alternative port
Highlights blown

I manipulate emotions
With photoshop talents
My colors I blend
It's a daily balance

Secrets

There is something we all have
Inside us, both good and bad
That can cause A splotchy stain
Of despair, sorrow and pain
Revenge and payback can unseal
Things that shouldn't be revealed
Trusted to be locked away
Where it should forever stay
But sometimes anger is the key
To unlock this mystery
Breaking all the faith and trust
Of golden friendships into rust
Or this hidden pinky swear
Is a happy joy affair
Full of laughter and good times
An occasion where you find
Decorations, food and fun
Friends and family have begun
A surprise that will WOW
Shocking someone here and now
With great news so wondrous
A day of love and nothing less
So depending on what's told
Whether it is big and bold
Or amazing and so kind
There will be a place and time
Secrets always find a way
To make or destroy someones day

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