He wears a heavy coat of rusty fur,
hunched and brooding in the coastal scrub.
They painted him a villain in the nursery tales,
a big, bad shadow waiting for the dark.
He has a hundred hollow eyes that never blink,
carved open by the jaws of summer fire.
A crooked spine, a fist of woody knots,
grumbling low curses to the southerly wind.
But who could blame his wicked, jagged grin?
He learned his roughness from the searing drought,
patrolling the ashes of a blackened world
while delicate soft gums slept in the canopy.
He is the grumpy elder of the heath,
bristling, thick-skinned, and unapologetic—
holding his seeds like stolen golden treasure
behind those silent, gaping wooden mouths.
Of course there were bagpipes
And kilt-wearing men.
As always, they marched
Up Fifth Ave. once again.
The day, bright and sunny,
Was cold, plus the wind
Challenged anyone out there
Who wasn’t thick-skinned.
I felt for the students
Parading without
Warm jackets or gloves;
They were frozen, no doubt.
Yet the smiles were contagious
And so was the green,
For today we’re all Irish;
There’s no in-between.
Which is why, walking home,
I made one unplanned stop,
Since tonight needs some Guinness –
Not just a wee drop!
Sorrento Blonde (arancia bionda sorrentina)
the thick skinned fruit
a mederain treat
were the zest to your
alpine soda water
would yeild a flavor
that others would envy
come back to me
and you will find the difference
in the sweet citrusy taste of
our fruit!
our high juice content make's everything better!
sweet sweet love
that draw the flavors of collaberated effords together.
of love speak me
as sweet as one would want
and as reliable as nature itself
come back and such sweetness shall welcome you!
the sentimental favorite
with the taste to back up it's reputation
I have lived before the clocks were wound,
When silence spoke and stars made sound.
My hands once etched in temple stone,
The prayers of kings, yet slept alone.
I knew the scent of burning leaves,
In Vedic dawns, beneath fig trees.
I sang where Nile met desert wind,
A priest of fire, a soul thick-skinned.
In Rome, I wore the thinker’s face,
In chains of thought, not bound by place.
In robes of law or sacred thread,
I judged the living and the dead.
A scroll, a blade, a feathered pen—
Each life I bled and breathed again.
In Florence I lit minds like flame,
But died unknown, without a name.
In shadowed courts of Genghis' reign,
I walked as ghost through steppe and plain.
I sought the Truth in every creed,
But never tamed the soul's deep need.
Through monks and maps, through ink and war,
I crossed the seas to distant shore.
Each time reborn with memory dim,
Yet haunted by the silent hymn.
Now here I stand, the circle tight,
With one last fire to birth the night.
I’ve seen the rise and fall of men—
But will I walk this Earth again?
I don’t need a gruff, a beard, to point the way.
I sea! I sea!
The silken waves lapping over me,
my memory
of what lies in the deep, in the dark ebb
and flow. I sigh, I glow!
O Captain, I’d lean in.
O parrot, on the thick-skinned.
I sea! I sea!
The moon dives in the water.
The sun cannot
lighten up the oil spill,
the spell of the salt-hallucinogen.
Do the waves themselves swim,
alive, ready to capture
me, in the throes
of an arch-frenemy?
The cool sparkle, the invitation -
I sea…I sea!
Pull me under…
The Girl I'm Infatuated With
The girl I am infatuated with
Tells her friends that she ignores my advances.
This flirtatious game she finds dismissive
Still, I stay the course and remain focused.
When I approach or pass her by, she stops
And acts neutral as if I didn’t exist.
Though disheartening, I calmly nod,
Like I’m thick-skinned and do not feel the sting.
For reasons I cannot explain clearly,
Her negative response is challenging.
And so I pursue my heartfelt desire,
Despite the laughter and chiding from her friends.
Love is a paradox that has limits.
Fear rejection—then live to regret it.
Violently mimic the wind,
stay salty yet flow like water;
With an attitude stay thick skinned,
violently mimic the wind;
Keep poetry neat and well penned,
then punctuate it to slaughter;
Violently mimic the wind,
stay salty yet flow like water.
I’m honoured to be ‘Queen of Poop’ -
My title on Poetry Soup
Themes like constipation
May cause indignation
I’ll never not write on brown gloop!
All poets have got their own style
My humour makes some people smile
Folk may think I’m strange
But I’ll never change
My subjects though may be deemed vile!
Been chastised for poems on wind
You’d truly think that I had sinned
I’ll still write about farting
No, I won’t be departing
I’m lucky I’m pretty thick skinned!
There are many treasures hidden
In my sagacious corporate brain
I retrieve them when I need them
Then I place them back again
They are tightly packed together
Like a bunch of thick-skinned grapes
Uplifting affirmations
To which my mind escapes
So when you see me smiling
When you think I should be stressed
When I easily deliver that critical address
When my performance is so strong
That it causes you to wonder
How on earth it is I do it
With all the pressure that I’m under
When my eyes begin to sparkle
And I give a knowing wink
Appearing confidently competent
And perfectly in sync
That’s because I’ve tapped into
My purpose once again
And there’s no stopping where I’m going
Or knowing where I’ve been
in Pando's shadow a young maiden sings
wander'd to and fro peat bog feet sloshing
auburn locks adorned in daisy crowned rings
quite unaware that something was watching
one with thick skinned carion heart at core
to scavenge Middlemist's red camellia
he too delivered from far away shores
a renaissance ratel in rebellion
Leila leisured in shade of quaking aspen trees
treacle honey joys spilled out across her dress
temptation so strong insatiable hunger needs
dark honey badger lept from a tufted hedge
in presence one so endeared, showed no fear
for all beasts, nature's greatest gift bequeath
proffered morsel from open hand as he neared
inquisitive eyes belied soft heart and sharp teeth
forest branches embraced the two in nosh
as trembling giant's rustling now subdued
ladybugs flit from branch to dew covered moss
fingers stroked rough fur nape to back as he chewed
two walked ancestral shores as newfound kin
sniff'g this way and that among tufted pearls
claws tap entranced her soft cooing voice hymn
face framed in rivulets long carefree curls
long past gone Leila's song through far away gates
honey badger' forest friend rests - Pando waits
I don’t limit who reads my verse,
only who I answer
Each word thick-skinned and armor-clad
all questions zero-sum
(To Nelson Riddle & Frank Sinatra: March, 2021)
I am mother goddess warrior
protector of the sacred Nisqually water
and the people of this land
I am native crow
I am also avocado
nice to eat and soft
soft to my seed and thick skinned
or is it thin? I don't know
all the time I
shed my skin
feel sweet and feed something
and then regrow
I am an avocado crow
What is it about us and our kind
Quietly sitting there
Not calling out the bullies
The liars the cheats the fake
Taking it passively from that
Whole class of degenerates
We’re just interested in being happy
In our little world of art and whimsy
We don’t have it in us to push back
Be it thick-skinned politeness or
Delusional optimism on our part
Is it anything less than our way
Of nodding sheepishly heads in approval
Not daring to retaliate and take a stand
For fear of speaking out of turn
Is it just our way of perpetuating
The bloodline of victims
Of pushovers and doormats
For fear of getting involved
Wallflowers not wanting to stir the pot
We want to carry on in fantasyland
Where lighthearted our type treads
Believing life can and should be fair
With everyone wanting to live in harmony
In our little world everyone gets along
AP: Honorable Mention 2020
you think it's easy
maybe your heart
doesn't bruise as quickly
maybe your mind
is a bastion of confidence
thick skinned indifference
maybe it's easier for you
could be true
As for me? Well…
I like to stay clear
"once bitten"....20 times as shy
the reason why?
it's not so easy for me
this survival thing, you see
takes a lot of hard work
and my heart is replete
with burdens and cares
my gut wrenched poetic wares
only incite unfeeling stares
the reader unaware
apathetic animosity
guised in hilarity
isn't for me...
No, it's not as easy for me
to pretend I don't care
when my soul I bare
so I don't dare
let anyone come back round
who has ground me into the ground
once before
well….not now
not anymore
it's not as easy for me
so just.....
just please….let it be.
Eileen Manassian
I was Burlap, you were Satin
your smooth against my rough,
you diamond, 'gainst my red hot coal
was never quite enough.
You tulip in the April sun
fair lady of the field
me cactus, thick skinned, dominant
how easily you yield.
You fought till you had little left,
you tore so easily,
Burlap, Satin, no warp or weft
were ever meant to be.
February 11th 2018
For contest 'Burlap and Satin', sponsor Anthony Slausen
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