Spot Poems - Poems about Spot

Ode To An Ocelot

Not a lot of ocelots
are seen in the day
they prefer the evening
or the night
if an ocelot you're hot to spot
altho' it's quite a long shot
an ocelot you want to sight
you may even hit the jackpot
if you do it right
all you've really got to do
is switch off the light

Blind Spot

Why can't my blind spot see?
it’s shadowing me        in the eye's periphery 
edgily creeping                   sideways like a crab,
watching me,           

Hit the Sweet Spot, Sweetie

Ever so sweet
is kernel hub,
the power button,
so neat, tiny and mighty.

But the sweet spot
can sour with
too much power
to savor its glory.

For to score is fragile,
furtive and futile,
when a near miss,
catches the edge.

It's easily bruised,
easily abused,
easily overused,
overdone and missed.

The soft spot sweetie,
requires a gentle touch,
with panache, pizzazz,
flair and feeling.

Spot Dreams

Spot Dreams

I watch his paws twitch
ears upright listening
his soft growls, he corners his prey
even in sleep he dreams
the cat can’t escape

Dot

People think I am a separator of two sentence
Surely, in my mind I have no vengeance,

I am just a full stop to a line
But I have more to gain,

I am a small round mark
But all can make me dark,

I am just a short click
And easily you can pick,

I am a buzz forming a letter
In fashion,

Untitled

I am a young pup named Spot
today I will be resting on my cot
I would say 
to you cats today
get plenty of rest you’ll need it

A Haunting Spot

Pearl
rapids
steam cascade 
haunting  canvass 
a red dawn smoulder 
to prise sluggish eyelids 
of zestful bright mood  riser 
who gulps in  rapt awestruck spoonfuls 
of mosaic zone enthralled  enclave 
awash with random sun drenched blue pool plops 
Where giddy children cast green hue pebbles
 as dulcet birds tweet from gaunt elm twigs
and

X marks the spot

Monstrously Machievellian

Demonic pedagogic

Ominously Orwellian

Demagogic logic 

Fools’ Musk-ovite mules

Zuckerberg zeitgeist heist

Dickensian dystopia rules

Google last post bugle 

Fossil fuels myopia drools

Bellicose Bezos blows

Bro-ligarchy mates’ malarkey

Unions demonstrate

Amazon defenestrate 

Hades Gates hierarchy

In the dock

Murdoch foxy skulduggery

Poxy TikTok runs amok

Crass puns..shock thuggery

This lot don't give a jot
.
Bitter sh**ter Twitter

Greedier needier seedier

The death of mass media

X marks the spot!

Prime Spot Butterfly Cinquain

                   I’m off 
              to get closer,
   you know where to find me. 
Follow my voice to the front row!
  

X-Marks-the-Spot

X-Marks-the-Spot is a tickling game
Which is traced upon someone’s bare back.
In childhood, we played it and often it caused
A goose-bump filled giggling attack.

My kids got the treatment when bathtime arrived
And my grandson when he was a tot,
But it’s been a while since I’ve gotten the chance
To engage in some X-Marks-the-Spot.

Yet I came upon Henry, eleven

God's Favorite Spot in the Universe

When a mother bird decides to build a nest
She selects a spot that she deems is best.
The sheer survival of her species rest
On the precious eggs she lays in that nest.

When God decided he would build a home
The entire universe He would comb
To find the spot that He knew would be best
For His image-bearers to

7 Spot Winner a song

©7 Spot Winner  - Artimus The Poet, Susan Manley 12/24/2024

Inspired by a meme and my boyfriend. 

Sweet Spot

Sweet Spot

On the ever shifting sands of time
The spectrum of human action balances 
On a fulcrum between extremes:
Total government and tyranny on the Left
Zero government and anarchy on the Right,
Two ways that on paper may look good
Until practice proves them otherwise.

And in the course of this rise and fall
Systems are engineered to cope
In waves of

when I spot a squirrel

When I spot a squirrel
It is never common, ordinary or naked
They are usually fully dressed without a smile
The one I spied this morning wore a blue shirtwaist
When she ran up a tree, I saw white eyelet on her pantaloons
I wisely keep some of these observations to myself.

saving your spot

we used to sit there with a pile of stones
throwing them hard
seeing which ones would make it farther
and that bench was halve rust
but you still loved it
sitting on the air if you must


oh, the trees are whispering your name
wishing you to come back and be here again
and then i see us on that bench
laughing and

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