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Beau Scorgie Apr 2017
Sunlight pirouettes
through a window.

Translucent zebras
dance upon the stage,
dance across
a little honey bee.

Petals of paper
weaving through
the day.
Like tiny footprints
to lead the way.

Lead a zebra,
lead a honey bee,
to a delicate daisy flower
where they might sit
in silence
or discuss
how peculiar it is
that a honey bee
just might fall
in love with a zebra.
Youdont Needthis Jan 2017
Upon blond stripes
Lie silken hooves
With ripe and gutted cherubs

Upon blond stripes
Rinse molten flecks
The Satan shakes of corporate vest
The cubic keys beneath beaten fingers and
Stinging needles in women painted

Upon blond stripes
Curls burning bible
Crestfallen to dust against a glistening tongue

Upon blond stripes
Belched mountain laughter
Shattered across
Surgical steel

Upon blond stripes
Children slept with sagging disaster and heaved
Trashcan embryos
In giggling rage
While

Under blond stripes
The lids close sewn
Deaf to the death of unbroken bones
Driving fast on the highway
I just want success to come my way
In that manner
But life isn't that simple
If it was, everything would feel reasonless
We have to earn our stripes to become zebras.
Anthony Williams Jul 2014
It was always going to be black and white
that's the typeface on my preference of late
defining day and night with your choice of tights
those fine dividing lines on your partnered limbs
wrapped tall in belts daring as a Lara Croft climb
a silky striped raggedy ann gone neat sensuous
tight strapped to a two striking sinuous princess
committed to lodge sins inside my Loveland challenge
hemmed in round towers together to never-never unhinge

at home we horse around and rub along together
boosted by the interplay between cotton twill gathered
pulled low one side then canter balance riding high
as you level up to a line up of outbound thigh
saddled with a lovely leg stirrup over here
and a lean waist wobble to match up there
eyebrow lifts to starch arrowroot attention
over the swings and sway of every action
so swift I play catch-up each morning
delayed by fumbling for ones gone matching
it's a wonder you don't just wander away
in a daze from my one legged hopping display

then I would travel far as a bee
long-legged as stilts could be
to sing to your nails and feet
and be spun free flaunting
our google
a red white and blue
pair of giggles unfurled like flags
in your slim line dancers' legs
dangling ideas like fair weather socks
to goggle one direction behind your back
unique like nobody else contains within
thin licked then rolled back ciggie skins
so I pinch holes in the bacci parts
sinking into slats like leaky wooden boats
your avoiding tiptoes gadfly and curl in return
my feet undoing knits with swats and swirls
toeing tinkling notes like piano keys
undertones pink tinged with tingling knees
and when a jukebox plays
my coins are there always
for I've got your pop socks in motion
your vox populi's united under my skin
with impressive pulled tight bands
embedding imprint elastic rings
inky red slinking down
leaving parallel links


ignore my pins and needles
alone in dead of night
longing for your leggings
luminous stripe tights
today it's all me put on the spot
today it's music you might hate
biographies of people you don't like
subtitled movies too deep to bother
blue jeans dull dyed against your garter belt
a one man team can't DIY a drill majorette
spiralling shafts that come to a threaded point
enthralling with alternating knee bend bit pants
so pretty poly soft I'm pulled up like a fool
fully mixed up by your weaving cotton wool
wave me down in your way of sweet patter feet
a patterned cakewalk for you to catwalk sock it
to me in a stand in posey kind of way
this way to stand outs knitted to fancy
uncross your legs and cross-stitch
my path with gaited kisses
closely
by Anthony Williams
Nathan Squiers Jun 2014
With slink-and-slide, they wink and glide,
But offer not a growl or purr.
The shift and sift of stripes alight,
As sinewy grace takes to the night,
And all the forest dares not stir.
All that's left to do is hide.

It's a matter of pride that carries the stride;
There's more to the fury than just the fur.
It's not just of claw or of jaw that leaves us in awe,
It's the grace and the pace that they carry their paw.
That, while there's power enough to be but a blur,
It's with a stoic grace that these creatures betide.

You can call me a dreamer--that I pine for their life--
But I'm not the only one who seeks freedom from strife.
And while they're out there, burning bright,
There's no shame shared in the forests of the night.
So call me crazy for wanting to be free,
But I'll say with pride, "A tiger's life for me!"
In "celebration" of getting the second half of my dual tiger head tattoo (making that three tigers I have tattooed on me... thus far), I wanted to do a little something-something in the marvelous creature's honor. There's a few references that I'm guessing a few of you will pick up on (no harm/foul if you don't), but--all-in-all--I'm just hoping it's enjoyed.
shåi Jun 2014
the sun like tiger stripes
illuminated my room
and reminded me of you

your smile was radiant too
it was like the early morning rays
will you be mine today?

your kisses like euphoric desires
fell like an eternal stream of rain
are you here to stay?



(b.d.s.)
first haiku that i wrote that turned out well! suggestions definitely needed for this one!

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