Squirreled Poems | Examples

Renewal?

Who would sell that which they do not own?
Who kept quiet that truth not be known?
Who betrayed souls their faith now uncertain?
Who moved devils behind a secretive curtain?
Who empties His houses in the guise of renewal?
Who shattered its victims with lies and betrayal?
Who conveniently had loss of common sense?
Who eluded punishment expecting others to do penance?
Who dismays and dismantles the dwindling flock?
Who empties memories trading reverence for shock?
Who scoffs at laws specified in their own cannon?
Who pays their council with large sums of mammon?
Who has squirreled away substantial resources?
Who deems such is needed to fund other courses?
Who will litigate estates to take from rightful heirs?
Who does all they will yet maintain that they care?

Pirate Ship

     Once upon a time,
     A pirate ship came to mind.
     Large and flowing,
     With figure head all knowing.
     Leading the ship day and night,
     Into the latest pirate fight.
     Brought many a ship's crew to their knees.
     When Esmerelda held her cutlass high,
     Squinted about with her one good eye.
     The first mate squirreled,
     In a hurry,
     To turn the rudder left or right.
     Failure to obey,
     Would send the first mate to walk the plank,
     Into the sharks as he sank!

Saturday Morning

Final crumbs of a Saturday repast,
  We knew it wouldn't last!
  Licked all the bowls,
  Mom began to scold.
  We tried to walk away,
  With the food we squirreled away!
  For her to find under a pile of dirty clothes,
  Or hidden neath the bed,
  Boy, did she hold her nose instead!
  So catching us,
  Before the saved food turned to mush, 
  Was much better for us!
  Prevented her from playing the nose hunt game,
  Washing all the clothes just isn't the same!
  By then we had left for the day,
  Headed out to play!
  Snorting in exasperation,
  She sprayed air cleaner,
  And rubbed her hands with lotion.
  See Saturday's repast,
  Had long passed!

Hubby Drags Back the Trash

I cannot trust my husband to dump the trash, so I insist on taking it up.
He has squirreled so much crap back into this house
I make him put it into his office.
His office has six recliners, two beds,
and a stack of three couches. It is crazy full.
There are books, sweatshirts, and eight
not-quite-all-there sewing machines in his man cave.
It is a hoarder’s den of mice-only-know what.
I watch him cart in a box of cat litter.
He does not yet realize it is where I put the used cat litter.
It shouldn’t take him long….

They Believed Their Own Rumors

The well-endowed temptress inspired the giant to think some wild thoughts.
Since she knew it, she did not intend to get anywhere near his cots.
The giant tried in vain to take his wild ideas and clot them with blots.
They were both fools in love but they did not know it yet! 

The villagers made up all kinds of stories when they noticed the match.
They tore up each other’s ears with sordid tales of grab, kiss and snatch.
Soon these rumors were wafting around the village in a big gnarled batch.
Some even said the giant was the temptress’ pet!

You know how a lie can get tangled and twisted and blow in the wind?
Gossips were chasing new crazier ideas so hard, our ears were skinned.
Birds were running from the whispers, and the fishes’ flippers all grinned.
Most of the moldy rumors flying were sour and wet! 

This is not rocket science, it is not truth, it is simply not right!
Stated a young lad whose character and morals were nice and tight.
We all need to apologize to the temptress and the giant tonight.
But they were squirreled away in a love-making net.


Written 4-30-2022
Contest: Tall Tales 2
Sponsor: Jeff Kyser

Misson of Hope and Faith

The unicorn eggs had been hidden many fortnights ago,
The last to remember them was a Prophetess named Woe.
She had written down the secret sign to open the safe of gold
But it had blown under the throne room floor and now lay cold.

Because it was their tradition, armed guards continued to stand guard.
No idea they were guarding priceless unicorn eggs loaned by a bard.
A magical castle this had once been, with glorious tapestries and such.
War of the Giant Blasters had torn it apart; now it was not much.

Troupe of faeries were hired. They had given king the smallest bid.
On a mission of hope and faith, for they knew what Wow did.
When they chopped up the floor, they tunneled into the unopened safe.
Squirreled magic unicorn eggs to fairy land for their Princess Grace.

Guards continue to guard the gold safe daily, thinking it holds riches.
It truly is practically empty but sh! None of us want to be snitches.
One day someone will  give you some released unicorn eggs.
Then there will be rainbow unicorns prancing about under your legs!

Two Short Snoozes

I simply find out how to get two hours of sleep. 
A walled bastion around your neck is steep. 
Elitists commend this moderate landmark. 
While visiting vacationers all around the park.

Here's the way your body will in general look. 
Arms are stone squares stained with a nook. 
A fleece tee lands on the body with a thud. 
Despite that, late spring clothing is very scud.

They linger the same as wet palm fronds. 
To the path, skirting the drain's ponds 
Your toe pain is a metaphor for it anyway. 
I squirreled away in a pair of boots to stay.

 On the road, the eyelids are shovels.
The white line devours the car's labels. 


Written: November 14, 2021

They Took Him

They Took Him
By Sy Roth

They took him and squirreled him away.
Those Sophists, 
Deniers of the terror they could construct
Where he no longer saw the human side of himself.

Half man, Quasimodo of the bells,
Left stranded in the bell tower.
No one to call to
Tintinnabulation orphaned from humanity.

Left in his bed only to dream
Or bury his nightmares
Whisked beneath his bed in a heap
Dreams cohabited with the dust bunnies.

Silent, sinister hopes left tangled 
In a macabre kerfuffle--
Jacob and his Angel
In a struggle to exist.

They took him and he saw only this reality,
The ward in which he lived
A husk of humanity blown against a galling wind,
Crushed against unforgiving walls.

And he languished in his diapered world
Waiting for his eyes to heal
And his twisted lips to unfurl
Waiting to greet a new morn 

Away from the cycle of existence.

Hans and Greta

Hans had been raised to believe you protect your woman at all costs
His father was a warrior king, and instilled this in him since his first dawn. 
Today his ideals were hidden, squirreled away, possibly even a bit lost 
As his wife-to-be jumped into the fray, facing the monster head-on. 

He had been startled when she raced around him and began to fight.
The monster bared his teeth, and growled; he was a ferocious sight. 
But Greta held her ground, and backed him into shadows so dark.
Hans rushed in to help, but she was holding her own against this mark.

She fought with the brave heart of at least six valiant men.
She did not back down, she had this monster cornered within. 
The monster let out a screech, a wail, and a siren’s sound.
The confused darkness in the shadows enveloped her all around.

Hans was terrified for her, this warrior, full of rage and power.
He could barely see what was happening, at this final hour 
To a beast, who fell hard on her blade in this foreign land 
For Greta had been raised to believe you protect your man

An Impossible Dream

I recall going to the docks to watch the boats,
especially the racing yachts moored there.
They were an impossible dream,
that I dreamt of owning.
A friend offered me a ride on his boat one day,
a forty-foot cigarette speed cruiser.

It just so happened that my friend was a boozer,
and half-drunk before we got underway.
He spent most of his time moaning,
as we headed upstream.
He let me take the wheel, for conditions where fair,
I was impressed by how high this craft floats.

It was so much faster than wind-powered sailboats,
and that instant rush was beyond compare.
It felt like I wanted to scream,
despite my friend's groaning.
And since that day, I've squirreled my money away,
hoping to buy a similar bruiser.


(Rhyme)


12-27-2020


A Little Memory - My Invented Form - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Constance La France

Fey Squirreled Away

Tiny door is closed tightly shut.
Inhabitants hidden from view.
Fairies and brownies had made the cut.
Safe in their winter’s nest away from you.

As you pass this magnificent elm tree,
The fey are enjoying hollow every day.
A door so miniscule, you do not see.
So all winter, they are gloriously hidden away.

His Right Leg

A note pinned to the thigh reserves it,
the whole cadaver is parceled off.
Legs are a late harvest of the indigent.
Their limbs carry a visual poverty
long after the body is plucked.

In a small room, I separate
muscle groups, filter large blood vessels
from fibrous runnels. 
My scalpel seeking out fascial planes.

The leg is devolving to scraps,
yet ingrained in the tissue,
I sense residual shades of a life.
Seaside postcards and old photographs,
war ribbons and yellowed newspaper clippings.

The gray flesh retains its memories.
There’s a wife behind his knee,
bone whittling winds have not erased her features,
her youthful form still entwined
around ashen ligaments.

A child climbs up from an ankle bone,
as a sinewy plasma -
it has no substance of its own,
but borrows and gathers a varicose presence.

Sights and scenes invest 
a limbs mangled landscape.
Images that can’t be cut away
by living hands.

Some imagine they dissect a limb,
but I turn bloodless pages,
read images once squirreled away, 
that now form these sinews
of a journey’s end.

Shifting Gears

In life we go through many phases.
And our minds go to many places.
Some people stay right where they are.
And sadly, don't go very far.

It's when we get outside ourselves.
And climb down off those dusty shelves.
That we can find a whole new world.
And spend them nuts that we have squirreled.

It seems that in today's society.
You need not move to get variety.
We sit and click and never move.
And causes health to not improve.

Then one day comes an ultimatum.
And we heed the warning verbatim.
Blood pressure's high and so is glucose.
We don't ask why and we don't suppose.

The answers clear, it's time to shift.
Into high gear to slim midriff.
And when we start to feel a change.
Our whole live's start to rearrange.

So find a way that keeps you moving.
So you can continue improving.
And soon you'll start feeling much better.
When you become a daily sweater.

And as the weight begins to shed.
You'll sleep much better in your bed.
So don't just click, get up instead.
Before you wake and find you're dead.

Hiding My Magnificence

Blonde
Brunette
Redhead
Highlights
Lowlights
No lights
Long
Short
Shorter
Shortest

I have been a changeling all my life
Seeing myself through a monster’s eyes
Staring at my hazel orbs, wondering each year
Why I do not look like my twelve-year-old self
My magnificence hidden from
the others
Blonde
Brunette
Redhead
Highlights
Lowlights
No lights
Long
Short
Shorter
Shortest
Smaller every minute
My magnificence safely squirreled away

Squirreled Away

winter squirrels
celebrate the holidays
urban nutcrackers


John G. Lawless
©12/13/2018

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