Sticks Poems

Poetic Chop Sticks

The muse has no fingers
Possesses no internal abacus
Cannot fathom fractious patterns

…take one word from line A
And two from line B
Skip line C
Use it as line D
Drop C into C

With six you get Egg Roll

Sticks And Stones

Hate me slate me or berate me
call me names it's all the same I don't care
to my mind it's no more than
hogwash simply put just hot air
the proclivities of others
I don't judge
and their predilections
I won't begrudge
I live and let live
as I too do have mine
but tresspass on my territory
there's where I draw the line
tho' non-violent
step

Barely Sticks To his Routine

And the hearse did rehearse its path,
Though the skeleton held dearly
To his ground, smiling loud.
He was bare - needed a shroud,
With his straight bow, grinned severely.

For it seems, he’ll not move ever.
There’s his calcified stick figure,
Who’s not shamed in the least.
For on earth, his time’s increased.
Seems he’s stuck in mortis-rigor.

Sticks and Stones

You speak to me of sticks and stones
I recall you tossing me aside
Who am I without my God?
In stillness I fall
Quiet screams tear out of my mouth
Broken and afraid I cling to shadows
Under the sun I sought my Father
With joy I found him inside my shell
Deep inside of me you are a light
Water for my

Sticks and Stones

you
 may of heard iT said,

 

"sticks and stones may bReak my bones,
 but word's will never hUrt me."

 

buT 
the trutH is,
 


"STICKS AND STONES MAY BREAK MY BONES, 
BUT WORDS CAN KILL ME!"

Sticks

Sticks

Sticks made up of 
only bitterness and 
resentment felt about 
most things rule 
Elmwood Reserve. They’re terribly great at 
gymnastic feats needing 
great skill, fast movement, and, 
of course, 
balance.

Strapped Sticks

Strapped Sticks

Little things to 
get strapped sticks with iron tip for 
their birthday: onesies, steel cap hiking boots or 
shoes, thick shocks too, 
stickers to 
adorn or to 
simply make statements genuine and 
beautiful, Food World gift cards, tents thick 
blankets, pillows, and 
so forth.

Season of the sticks

Why does the longing of lived wax melt clean off your wicks? 
Oh, how do you hold a capillary existence fending off the ticks?
Over and over to lay wasted during the cold times, of treats and tricks
Daylight will return beauty to you in magical ways after the season of the sticks
Save your strength, take time

one word sticks

Why has creepy ego appeared?
D.T. by some sickos was reared!
He fears loss as sin
And smears all to win
But clearly his veneer is...weird

Hitting Balls With Sticks - Golf

I like to write a verse or two, I do it all the time
Oftentimes it’s limericks, and sometimes perfect rhyme
But this is not my hobby, it’s just something that I do
I have a hobby and I write, but can’t combine the two 

Hitting balls with sticks is what I do to get my fix
I aim

Id's Just His Sticks

They dubbed him Sticks at Epoch's tip 
when hitherto matter none neither you
of matter grasped that awed amassed
was all he cared and none who'd dare
his love of sticks made jokes he exists
baton they'd be, had two and not one
that's why he's sick name's not, sticks
no, it should be sick; like mentally sick
course, it was said

Critterature: Sticks and Stones

A rhino's eyesight is really myopic,
Perhaps that's what makes him so misanthropic.
His hearing and reflexes, though, are sublime,
He can turn on a nickel and stop on a dime.
The projection that grows
On the end of his nose
Is not really a horn, though,
As one might suppose.
And when he needs scratching,
There's another small hitch,
His legs are too short
So

Who sticks closer than blood is friend

A friend that fishes for his selfish good, 
He who flatters and placates but to please, 
His sweet words venom under a veiled hood, 
He, whose hiss disguises as pleasant breeze. 
One not found when his friend’s lost in a wood, 
Who deserts ship in need of renewed lease. 

There too are friends like a

Sticks and Stones

Sticks and stones

May break your bones

But a broken heart

Can tear you apart

Sticks and Stones

“The heart may believe in itself, but the ears will believe what others say.”
Back in the day (we won’t even discuss how long ago that was) the neighborhood bully was usually that kid that would punch me in the stomach and take my lunch money. I knew exactly who it was, and I had choices.

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