"shrew" poems
Iron bench, open sore
dragon rock, three in score
flesh on body, tortured soul
arms high, in hell's hole
Corner bulb, neon light
drake hotel, second flight
jolly pop, rizla plus
open flame, behind the bus
Broken fixtures, tully hat
channel swimmer, at the bat
blind alley, words of cuss
dealer waving, in a fuss
Grim reaper, boys in blue
super bee, armored shrew
****** sips, swollen glands
potpourri, on demand
Black death, huddler's arch
beat the cold, and summer parch
toothless grin, ****** glare
obituary, to be shared
Dead of night, decontrol
cheeva tar, black coal
east central, chinatown
mr. freeze, is coming down
Foot soldier, skidder row
chicken feed, and white blow
silver spoon, casted hand
demons surface, on demand
Frantic sounds, below the glass
poison waiting, to be passed
crack pipes, over coat
bodies flat, begin to float
Gospel sounds, from union square
friends gather, deep in prayer
guardian angels, now deployed
thornton park, without a void
Covenant house, in holy charm
welcomes all, with open arms
salvation spreads, on chapel row
kindness that, cannot be sold
Oct 14, 2017
Oct 14, 2017 at 5:36 PM UTC
Amongst friends sits the shrew.
A tear glistens so bright ,
he's happy, through and through.
Ecstatic young blossoms
resting amongst the thorn
crawling from the bottom
Nov 17, 2014
Nov 17, 2014 at 7:36 PM UTC
I like Homestuck,
Donald Duck,
Ancient Greek Gaea,
APH Hetalia,
Marzia and Pewdiepie,
Random bow ties,
Doctor Who,
That colour of greenish blue,
Sherlock Holmes,
Garden gnomes,
Boy/boy ****
Sweet tea,
Left 4 dead,
Books I've read,
Minecraft,
When I laughed,
Yu-Gi-Oh,
Gateau,
Ender's Game,
Notre Dame,
World War One,
World War Two,
Mouse and shrew,
Bugsy Malone,
Jam scones,
Birthday cake,
Milk shake,
Drawing art,
Taking part,
MLP,
Shopping spree,
Sleeping in,
West Berlin,
Random songs,
When bells go ****
Stars shine,
My blood line,
All my friends,
The latest trends,
Yuri much,
And such and such,
Fanfiction,
A prediction,
Doujinshis,
Marshall Lee,
RhymeZone,
My touchscreen phone,
I could go on,
But that's too long,
But my favourite is,
Hello poetry - so don't diss!!
Oct 4, 2014
Oct 4, 2014 at 4:59 AM UTC
i like the countryside and all there is to see
so many different things you can view for free
there are lots of thing waiting to be found
lots of flowers and plants growing from the ground
there are animals the badger and the hare
hedgehogs and the squirrel all of them are there
there are many berries some that you can eat
mushrooms and the garlic a tasty little treat
there are mice and moles and the little shrew
many other creature waiting there for you
lots and lots of things that nature has to give
mother natures way that helps the world to live
Mar 31, 2014
Mar 31, 2014 at 12:08 PM UTC
I get the crust and the gristle of a thistle once a missile shooting out into the sky and I cry, wonder why. Never sure what I feel for the meal of a deal and then words more like air slip the breeze in my hair, butterflies in the skies killing what kept my alive. Oh too bad, well how sad, if the songs last lines din't matter it'd harm, it'd make the soul so very mad. Here I fall, there I stand like a robot dancing to the tunes. It's demand. Hear I laugh, hear I cry. I hear the screams and feel the burn, so why? Why unsure, of what's telling me my life is so impure. Threatened heart, from the strings that wrap it, tearing it apart. Feel the clench of a bundle of what you yourself have drench and so benched. And you threw to me the horror show, I never so have thought would reckon me to be. I, to be, it's master and it's longing family, here I cry. Hear "I" cry. For I exist in heart, but never, not in mind. There I stand once again as a memory of all that I pretend. If I tried, to be real, the pieces fall apart inside. So I hide, then I quiver and I shake as 'me' is inside. I can touch to the shelter covered in the unbelieving, underachieving to be who I know I am to be. Or at least what you see. I crush the old me and start anew, though I grew. I, immortal to myself have stomped the true. And I become something greater than simple little shrew. Do not lie! For I see with one eye, the look through me. What you see is a host, not the ghost, that lives on. "Awh, look at me. I'm so strong!" Laugh along. Child there. Where? Oops, forgot to care. Now I stare, towards the end that's never ending like this script. Never ending. Twist and bending. Don't kid me, I'm no kid. I'm the body of a youth, but I am dead. I've destroyed myself, if others didn't do a perfect job. Hold up stop! I'm letting go, a bubble that will pop. It will burst, destroying me, if it doesn't **** me first. Here I stand. Hear I cry. There I go. I have died.
May 6, 2014
May 6, 2014 at 1:09 PM UTC
there was a little hedgehog and his name was spike
he used to ride a around on his little bike
riding through the woods and all along the lane
any sort of weather even wind and rain
while riding down the lane one fine sunny day
he heard a little cry not to far away
he rode a little closer to see what it could be
it was a little shrew very sad was he
the poor chap was stuck in the muddy clay
no matter how he tried he couldnt get away
hedgehog he was clever and new what to do
so he dug the clay away from beneath the shrew
little shrew was happy free from all the clay
he said goodbye to hedgehog and went along his way
hedgehog carried on riding on his bike
shrew he wont forget his little friend called spike
Mar 6, 2014
Mar 6, 2014 at 11:58 AM UTC
You view the world from your prison's lone window
not knowing that your cell is unlocked.
You spend all your days collecting those rays
not caring how often you're mocked.
You waste all your hours counting the flowers
waiting for the clock's final tock.
If only you knew how you're like a shrew
you could easily come out of that box.
Apr 4, 2012
Apr 4, 2012 at 1:29 PM UTC
there was a little mole a clever chap was he
he lived underground living wild and free
always digging holes every here and there
leaving lots of hills each and every where.
one day he was digging he heard a funny sound
it was very loud underneath the ground
mole he started digging to see where it could be
then he saw a shrew very stuck was he
the little shrew had fallen down a great big hole
now the shrew was trapped poor little soul
the shrew he started crying teardrops down his face
dont worry said the mole i will free you from this place.
mole began to a dig a tunnel underground
he dug for quite a while till way out had been found
shrew he was so happy he was free once more
he was free again just like he was before
shrew he thanked the mole and went along his way
and from great big holes shrew he stayed away
mole he carried on digging underground
still thinks about the shrew and the way out he had found
Jan 30, 2017
Jan 30, 2017 at 12:22 PM UTC
I am a humming bird with a broken wing forming a geometric fall.
I am a conjoined twin with a foot in heaven and one in hell.
I am a geyser spewing out echoes from a stonewall well.
I am an open road stretched for miles paved with a murderous smile.
I am a man with a firm handshake who stands still on top of an earthquake.
I am a visionary man who slipped on fate and fell in love.
I am a preliminary hearing fallen on deaf ears.
I am the contribution to your retribution.
I am a person of depersonalization.
I am a one man army minus one man.
I am the desired taste of orange juice and toothpaste.
I am concentrated concentration.
I am the formation of your imagination.
I am the comma for your introductory clause.
I am the cause for your sudden pause.
I am the spatula that stirs up your anxiety.
I am the reaper who never leaves a clue.
I am the lace that always chokes the shoe.
I am the light that finds its way thru helping the little shrew.
I am the suburban white boy who sings the blues.
I am consistent inconsistency.
I am your assigned tour guide for your expiration exploration.
Jan 12, 2013
Jan 12, 2013 at 5:42 PM UTC
there was a little hedgehog and his name was spike
he used to ride a around on his little bike
riding through the woods and all along the lane
any sort of weather even wind and rain.
while riding down the lane one fine sunny day
he heard a little cry not to far away
he rode a little closer to see what it could be
it was a little shrew very sad was he.
the poor chap was stuck in the muddy clay
no matter how he tried he couldnt get away
hedgehog he was clever and new what to do
so he dug the clay away from beneath the shrew.
little shrew was happy free from all the clay
he said goodbye to hedgehog and went along his way
hedgehog carried on riding on his bike
shrew he wont forget his little friend called spike.
Feb 23, 2015
Feb 23, 2015 at 9:46 AM UTC
Swimming through deep water
Heading for the Holt?
Stop and pause to pray or prey?
Opportunistic?
Jean van jean?
In the forest there are no sanctions
Just life and death and hibernation
In the urban forest
The place we call the office
Or the Learning Zone
There is so much more risk
Classes clash; personalities clash;
Priorities clash; authorities clash!
The mob rules
The bullies rule
The demands/needs of the customer; the consumer; the learner
All must be met
Where am I in the urban forest
A tree shrew
A thorny owl
A wild Ottter
Or an Osprey with a mountain view
Soaring high above the issues of the urban forest
Far travelled wild Osprey
I yearn to be yew
Feb 7, 2014
Feb 7, 2014 at 5:42 AM UTC
remember mr shakespeare he was very bright
he wrote lots of plays hamlet and twelfth night
the merchant of venice the taming of the shrew
othello and king lear just to name a few
he was born in england many years ago
with the name of william that everyone would know
he wrote lots of poems in between the plays
thats how mr shakespeare used to pass his days
now is name lives on to this very day
the name of mr shakespeare will never go away.
Mar 9, 2010
Mar 9, 2010 at 3:01 AM UTC
Life’s all getting and giving,
I’ve only myself to give.
What shall I do for a living?
I’ve only one life to live.
End it? I’ll not find another.
Spend it? But how shall I best?
Sure the wise plan is to live like a man
And Luck may look after the rest!
Largesse! Largesse, Fortune!
Give or hold at your will.
If I’ve no care for Fortune,
Fortune must follow me still.
Bad Luck, she is never a lady
But the commonest ***** on the street,
Shuffling, shabby and shady,
Shameless to pass or meet.
Walk with her once—it’s a weakness!
Talk to her twice. It’s a crime!
****** her away when she gives you “good day”
And the besom won’t board you next time.
Largesse! Largesse, Fortune!
What is Your Ladyship’s mood?
If I have no care for Fortune,
My Fortune is bound to be good!
Good Luck she is never a lady
But the cursedest quean alive!
Tricksy, wincing and jady,
Kittle to lead or drive.
Greet her—she’s hailing a stranger!
Meet her—she’s busking to leave.
Let her alone for a shrew to the bone,
And the ***** comes plucking your sleeve!
Largesse! Largesse, Fortune!
I’ll neither follow nor flee.
If I don’t run after Fortune,
Fortune must run after me!
2.8k
Tamed not
I cannot believe in this beating so much
Let rot
We need to calculate this, we’re *******
You Lady Laz-
No, you my Plath
With your heart in reverse
Your hand on mine
On the relation gears
Your lover and his shadow’s near
You cruel shrew
You insatiable cage of bones
******* like a goddess at daybreak
I do love you.
This, my confessional
This, my pornographic revival
Eat me
**** the air out of my
Thin second coming
**** the miracle marrow
Of my bones, make a soup
Say a spell, yell, melt.
A mouth like a witch
Hands for my itch
Bit chiseled by bit
Us, lower in an atmosphere
Hidden from the house on the hill
Hands full of placebo-sex-pills
Tiny wrists shaking in fear
Tamed not
The muddied housewife
The war plot
The trapped door trigger shot
God is love
Love is biochemical
Love is the bathroom stall
Holes everywhere
In the walls
In everyone
In the suspension
I cannot believe
In at all
Mar 27, 2011
Mar 27, 2011 at 10:52 AM UTC
It’s All Hallow’s Eve and there’s little sound,
Except for a few goblins dancing around,
An old witch creates another evil spell,
Summoning demons from down in Hell.
The old hag stirs her boiling stew,
Adds eye of a newt, and another shrew,
The cauldron bubbles over the roaring fire,
The smoke rising up, higher and higher.
A black cat watches and suddenly screams,
It’s enough to haunt anyone’s dreams,
The old woman smiles an evil grin,
Her wart covered face personifies sin.
Looking around the spooky room,
Perched in the corner is a wooden broom,
Later she’ll get on it, and will take flight,
As she rides off on All Hallow’s Night.
Somewhere another victim will await,
Helpless to control their coming fate,
Another body that will soon be cold,
Another life that will never grow old.
Just another night’s work for an evil crone,
It’s what you do when you’re bad to the bone,
For another year, she will take leave,
And be back again next All Hallow’s Eve.
11-01-14.
Nov 1, 2014
Nov 1, 2014 at 3:04 AM UTC
Where's your lady?
asked the chimpanzee
the bear looked askance
the tiger growled
zebras rolled
macaws looked in trance.
Where's she
your lady pretty
queried the lone rhino
it's not good
this solitude
roared the lion with raised eyebrow.
Did you lose your way
this November day
when the sky's blazing blue
this fair weather
you aren't together
how come asked the shrew.
Your face it shows
shouted hippos
this fine day of November
boars did grunt
scowled elephant
you're lost without her.
They were so true
alone at the zoo
emptiness surrounded me
daylight though gold
sky blue bold
I roamed unhappily.
Nov 3, 2015
Nov 3, 2015 at 9:13 AM UTC
Thus the Mayne glideth
Where my Love abideth;
Sleep ’s no softer: it proceeds
On through lawns, on through meads,
On and on, whate’er befall,
Meandering and musical,
Though the niggard pasturage
Bears not on its shaven ledge
Aught but weeds and waving grasses
To view the river as it passes,
Save here and there a scanty patch
Of primroses too faint to catch
A weary bee…. And scarce it pushes
Its gentle way through strangling rushes
Where the glossy kingfisher
Flutters when noon-heats are near,
Glad the shelving banks to shun,
Red and steaming in the sun,
Where the shrew-mouse with pale throat
Burrows, and the speckled stoat;
Where the quick sandpipers flit
In and out the marl and grit
That seems to breed them, brown as they:
Naught disturbs its quiet way,
Save some lazy stork that springs,
Trailing it with legs and wings,
Whom the shy fox from the hill
Rouses, creep he ne’er so still.
2.6k
In the beginning there was Shakespeare
with his worldly verse that let me fly
betwixt the Merchant and the Shrew
a flame was set alight
and it grew and bore
testimony to an increasing love for the music of the mind
Tagore came later
with more a serious thought a distant father
to my immaturity
undulating spirit that within me lay
inspired
Always thought I’d grow up and be like Plath
Or like Dorothy Parker
always in some dark corner
trying on all the mental dresses
my imagination supplied
powerful black and pungent hues
tears that no one cried
confessions which became
accusations
self-effacing in my pride
then I found e.e.cummings
that tricky wonderful guy
who weaved puzzles into his poems
such spell-binding joy!
I am become Ekalavya
from absent teachers i have learnt
to string my voice together
- Vijayalakshmi Harish
31.08.2012
Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish
Aug 31, 2012
Aug 31, 2012 at 8:14 AM UTC
In every one-word world, exotic spaces' gradual state of life proclaimed as a melon . As the urges to divide the pleasures of the infernal forth from the happiness which has closed in to the square-shaped restless less rolling boxes. And what the treat is if all of the souls from the cypress take the higher breaths of the shrew and belabor them unto the points of humanity, uncivilized humanity that is quite bountifully.
During this autumnal abscission where the alizarin and pallid arms and edges, crooked and afraid, steep in the sullied tatterdemalion and the mysophilia that emimart
Apr 26, 2014
Apr 26, 2014 at 5:13 AM UTC
A plant grew in a forest
beginning as a sapling in a crowded opening
two inches tall
with no idea of what it was becoming
it rose slowly
but consistently
as others rose above it for light
it reaped the benefits of leftovers
this plant grew
not to be the tallest
not to be the prettiest
but it grew
It took in carbon dioxide
and released oxygen
it did its job
it was a good plant
eventually like most things this plant died
after being trampled by a young boy
this boy visited this forest everyday
its nature was his greatest toy
he knew the surroundings by heart
from the tallest tree to the smallest shrew
he saw all in his dreams
he knew all the plants save for a few
one of those few was our plant
although it stood tall, it was not tall enough
although it was pretty, it was not pretty enough
it died unremarkable
it was a good plant
it did its job
but it died without a trace
because it never risked to take another's place
and so the boy grew older
he left the forest for an office
in the hopes that one day
he’d be rich enough to return
so he climbed the ladder
and said all the right things
he was a good man
he did his job
until he met a girl
a girl so powerful
so unmistakably perfect
he had to rise above the others
he left his job because he hated it
he stood tall to reach the sun
he took risks not because he had to
but because he wanted to
this man died poor
he did not succeed
there was no beverly hills
no millionaire mansion down the street
this man never climbed that corporate ladder
never got lost in the rat race
never missed the birth of his son
never broke a promise to that boy
he took a risk he shouldn’t have
an unnecessary leap of faith
he looked back on his past
the trouble he left in his wake
he remembered that plant
the one he didn’t see
the reason he is who he is
the man who became a tree
take risks because you should
because one day you will die
buried under dirt
while your life has passed you by
life is too short
too precious
to be a good man
to just do your job
Jul 20, 2014
Jul 20, 2014 at 9:29 PM UTC
William Shakespeare: playwright and poet
My absolute favorite of all time
The master of words in plays and sonnets
Unappreciated during his prime
His comedies still make us laugh today
Who could forget The Taming of the Shrew?
Now it's told in a much different way
A movie: The Ten Things I Hate About You
People think of his many tragedies
Othello, Romeo and Juliet
We still feel their sorrow; weak at the knees
We cry for the Prince of Denmark: Hamlet.
"But soft! What light through yonder window break?"
The work of a legend those words do make!
Nov 11, 2013
Nov 11, 2013 at 10:41 PM UTC
You bring out the very worst in me,
the ugly side I hate to see...
That bitter ***** no one can stand,
who's quick to snap like a rubber band.
The angry, spiteful, cold-hearted shrew,
who only exists when brought out by you...
Jul 7, 2018
Jul 7, 2018 at 11:31 PM UTC
there was a little mole a clever chap was he
he lived underground living wild and free
always digging holes every here and there
leaving lots of hills each and every where.
one day he was digging he heard a funny sound
it was very loud underneath the ground
mole he started digging to see where it could be
then he saw a shrew very stuck was he
the little shrew had fallen down a great big hole
now the shrew was trapped poor little soul
the shrew he started crying teardrops down his face
dont worry said the mole i will free you from this place.
mole began to a dig a tunnel underground
he dug for quite a while till way out had been found
shrew he was so happy he was free once more
he was free again just like he was before
shrew he thanked the mole and went along his way
and from great big holes shrew he stayed away
mole he carried on digging underground
still thinks about the shrew and the way out he had found
Feb 18, 2020
Feb 18, 2020 at 9:33 AM UTC
I am hiding under a sheet
like a child on Halloween
as always, you cut to the chase
everything I am is before you
pages of a tattered book
that you know oh so well
rustle in the warm breeze
hopping from one
leaf to the next
if I was a tree, my arms
stretched and growing
in all directions
you’d come to me
and pull away my bark
just to find out more
your insatiable curiosity
comes at a terrible price
in exchange for my life
you want a place within it
forged by your own two hands
blackened with soot
like that one long moment
when I put my glasses on
wide-eyed recognition
of the position you hold
with such sweet relish
those eyes tell me so much
fixated on the horizon
I can’t help but look back
you’re in too deep now
a part of you swims through
my bloodstream and
enjoys the ride every time
my heart beats
Feb 16, 2011
Feb 16, 2011 at 7:18 PM UTC
watched grains dance playfully
affixed to lengthy golden stalks
the wind sways them gracefully
in-between a hidden world unlocks –
pink-footed mice run
well-trodden paths
the warm summer sun
never granting them baths –
shiny black crickets chirp in the night
while grasshoppers eat through the day
an occasional rabbit scurries with fright
and ant colonies seemingly play –
a dust covered floor
‘neath a ceiling of blue
in the middle, a ruffed hawk soars
striking fear in the heart of a shrew –
nobody suspects the vastness of life
when passing by in their car
the joys of birth, hunger and strife
within a wheat field under the stars –
May 9, 2015
May 9, 2015 at 11:31 AM UTC