"sly" poems
A horror movie scene as the heroine escapes.
Everything is still besides her convalescing breath and the distant, chasing wind.
Not a noise is heard except the fall leave's rattle and the birch wood's moaning bark in the moonlight.
Her body slouches into the protection of a lone shed, and shrouds itself in the aroma of cut grass.
A tense brow relieves and tired eyes close, thankful to receive the momentary peace.
A possible misstep turns the wary peace on end with the jagged cut of broken leaves. The once relieved brow now concedes surprise as wild eyes are cast towards an opaque barricade.
Sly pieces of garden equipment leash a weathered jacket in place as she attempts to stand.
A cackle is heard, a shriek undone.
To spite the brittle wood, the formulaic jump-scare-skeleton-hand bursts through the shed's solicitous walls, set to declare the last of a weary soul as his own.
The wind catches up and spearheads any hole it can find.
It begins whistling around the dim room like a tornado elated to havoc behind a castle's walls.
The tree bark howls, the leaves, now delight.
We learn there is no reprieve for a begging champion.
The camera backs out of the splintered hole, and pans over a silhouetted forest to face the waning moon.
The hero succumbs with muted screams to a gore far below and out of frame.
Our only closure, a black screen, with bright white letters, slowly scrolling up.
The end.
Jul 24, 2018
Jul 24, 2018 at 10:52 PM UTC
The noon's greygolden meshes make
All night a veil,
The shorelamps in the sleeping lake
Laburnum tendrils trail.
The sly reeds whisper to the night
A name-- her name-
And all my soul is a delight,
A swoon of shame.
47.4k
I Say "Hi"
A Beautiful Stranger
She Keeps Walking
We Pass By
I'm Just Looking
Corner Of My eye
Foxy Little Lady
She Is Sly
Lips Stay Sealed
They're My Alibi
Felt Your Eye
Gave A Reply
You Said "Hi"
Not Being Shy
I'm With Her
That's Your Guy
Our Little Secret
Eyes Don't Lie
My Beautiful Stranger
Walk On: Bye.
May 3, 2014
May 3, 2014 at 2:32 AM UTC
I'm coming for you,
better run and hide,
found you,
thought you were sly,
make you hold me tight,
all night,
don't cry it will be alright,
I'll make it feel good,
I'll make it nice
maybe add some spice,
make you whimper and beg,
please,
Biting down, blow and squeeze
I'll make you scream,
till you want more,
on the floor?
Top, bottom, doesn't matter,
don't flatter yourself,
I'll give you a dollar,
holla!
Look so good,
so fine you'll be mine,
its a crime how your kind
But I'll make you see all of me,
turn you over shake you down
turn you around,
be true
to the monster I made of you
Oct 12, 2014
Oct 12, 2014 at 2:27 PM UTC
She Walks By
A Beautiful Lady
And She Smiles
We Catch Eyes
Like Two Spies
She Is Fly
Sassy Little Lady
Eyes Don’t Lie
Her lips Sealed
Red Lips Stick
I Said “Hi”
Her Body Language
Gave The Reply
So Slick, She’s Sly
Keep Our Secrets
My Beautiful Lady
Walk On: Bye
May 14, 2015
May 14, 2015 at 12:15 AM UTC
Tomorrow i will be brave.
I am going to march up to you in all your dark and mysterious glory and i am going to say everything i have kept locked away never to see the light of day.
I will tell you i still feel giddy in your presence and hope you feel the same, I will tell you your eyes and sly smile change me until i feel high above all the worries of the day, and I will tell you if you do not have a heart that matches the eradic beating of my own that it is okay. I understand.
Oct 19, 2014
Oct 19, 2014 at 10:33 PM UTC
Nosey people annoy me
Pompous people bore me,
Pretentious people irritate me
Whilst drunk people irrigate me.
Opinionated people grate me,
Cheating people forsake me.
Sly people irk me
Lazy people shirk me.
Judgemental people cast me,
Bigoted people blast me.
Most people avoid me!
May 6, 2014
May 6, 2014 at 12:45 PM UTC
Water lilies, libidinous lover boys, on the sly
circles her naked body, impertinently
while she unaware of this, swim and play
in her water-crazy, noisy country girl self
in this enclosure of ***** pines wildly in bloom,
She's happy for being shielded from prying looks
of rowdy village boys, adept in disrobing her with their eyes
Enamored, the lilies, white, blue and purple
inebriated all, by drinking the nubile beauty
limitless all along,under the level of water
and above, breached all the reserves,
ahamelessly sevoured her saucy proximity
til she left when the dusk, shed saffron all over.
Yet in her innocence she would think,
"Poor darlings,how much did they suffer, as I
splashed and broke the calm of the pond all evening"
Feb 27, 2015
Feb 27, 2015 at 11:38 AM UTC
"sly wordplay, it glows, feels like a shimmering address, half warning and half blessing, really alive with cadence"
read Kiki Dresden poetry^
once more into the sea trench divide,
I dive to devise,
Your provoking comment,
demands my full attention,
you divert me from struggling with
ginger & clay,
a contra concept
that molds and enflames,
yet strikes overtly sweet,
it does not
come so easy
as this playful notion
But
your words deserve the
attention immédiate
atenção imediata
that births this script,
tumbling forth in an instantly
instantaneously
me student, you mistress~master,
schooling me on sublimity subliminal,
capturing the capering
stylistic that bursts forth from within,
that my fingertips provide,
while my brain connives & connivers
continuously
you overlay analytics
that never are to me
revealed,
the what and wherefore
of the whom
hiding within
of the im~perpetuity impish essence of
i m p ishness
by charmingly doing me, not once,
but many times better
here a spillage:
an observational ditty,
dressed in a tux,
most formally,
to render the greatest
wordplay
ever invented
t,
the uniqueness of a simple
thank you
my favorite poem
a forever for ever,
the song that
plys and plays me
in the me
so often,
the linguists have banned the word
repeatedly
from my lexicon
so in its stead,
this all-in-one mighty steed
(verb phrase, a noun, or an adjective depending on its usage)
this phatic expression,
here disguised in
Portuguese,
muito obrigado!
muito obrigado!
muito obrigado!
nml 5:39am nyc 10/4, 10/4
Oct 4, 2025
Oct 4, 2025 at 5:44 AM UTC
I should be happy but i am not...
oh...here is scorching hot...
i want to cry...
no one cant feel my heart
so i should die...
i want to fly...
but on the sly...
maybe no one like my poems...
it s because no one feel my heart...
it is my problem...
i m so sad... sometimes i speak to myself..
others think i m mad...
my friend is my inner child...
i like her a lot...
some times she make fun of me
& i laugh a lot....
Oct 26, 2014
Oct 26, 2014 at 2:40 PM UTC
I caught you staring
at me,
you looked away,
and pulled
your sly
little smile.
I've been warned,
from the very first day,
to stay away.
But like our first
impression,
you're hard to forget.
You caught me staring
at you,
and i didn't look away.
You have my attention,
a forbidden engagement.
Dec 18, 2014
Dec 18, 2014 at 7:48 PM UTC
a miracle child
born to a mortal mother
***the creator pretends
to be the created***
stealing butter,
breaking pots,
teasing girls,
Gokulam’s naughtiest child
and then one day
the friends complain
“Mother Yashoda, your little one
is eating mud from the Yamuna banks”
worried she rushes
to her darling boy
her anxiety disguised as anger
he smiles - the sly little blue-eyed boy
in his musical voice he cries-
“I did not eat mud, sweet mother, the boys lie!
***come look within
and see with your own eyes!”***
poor Mother Yashoda
not knowing she stared
into that little mouth
and lost herself in what was there
he lifted swiftly the
veil of maaya
the truth shone forth
with a blinding light!
*** त्वमेव माता च पिता त्वमेव ।
त्वमेव बन्धुश्च सखा त्वमेव ।
त्वमेव विद्या द्रविणम् त्वमेव ।
त्वमेव सर्वम् मम देव देव ॥***
she saw herself
and her dear little boy
the whole of Gokulam
within his jaws lay!
and the whole earth
and the universe
galaxies and multiple worlds
was her little boy cursed?
her fear mounted as she saw
the entire cosmos
the boundaries blurred
time - a non-entity
the past, present and future
only a tiny river
she saw the vast expanse
of his creation
he made these worlds
held them like puppets on a string
and then morphing
he became death!
and unable to take more
she swooned
when the Creator, the Preserver and the Destroyer
merged to become-her adored little one!
*** You are my mother, and my father
You are my relative and my friend
You are knowledge, You are prosperity
You are my everything, My God of Gods***
and then he looked at her
with an infinite compassion
he’d shown her
what she needed to see
now it was time
for her to forget, to become
his doting mother again
he kisses her with innocent love and toothy grin
once more
maaya takes hold
the illusion more beautiful
more irresistible to behold!
- Vijayalakshmi Harish
04.09.2012
Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish
Sep 4, 2012
Sep 4, 2012 at 2:45 AM UTC
Secrets hurt,
Secrets can ****
Secrets create lies;
Very sly.
Aug 22, 2014
Aug 22, 2014 at 8:46 AM UTC
We know you, and your little dark colors too. A picture book in your purse penned in mustaches on the full faces of your fare. We call you from bed, 8 o' clock in the morning, dog-light you slow wander the Peruvian darkness making jellyfish tentacles with your hands while you feel your way through Salem. We're colder than night and we wake thrice the bits of your day gig. You collapse in a green field of dandelion where thrushes drown you in Brown. We gorge ourselves on mango slivers, pineapple yolks, a half of grapefruit. We know you are close to your end.
On the tops of the cities you call to your lycan friends, the half-sick and muted bray allures them to you, from Bratislava and Mimon, the thoroughfare through the suq. We wait. The foregone untold, the beep beep jug jug swoop sound of the nightingale, in all her dun glory, we wait. Then, as if descending through the moor-lounging silver smoke, the cool stickiness to your fingertips; the fog.
We are there when the blue-less and smoky screen surrounds you, when you shank the auburn Scot hair of the sly fox that stalks, say, a cigarette from your lips. When you take the corners swiftly, gadding the streets. The prize king of vulpicide. You rub its matte fur against your bristly gray beard. And while you lay in your lumps of twelve carat flesh you bleat and you nag. One day you will never come home.
May 2, 2014
May 2, 2014 at 3:14 PM UTC
Hailstorms with big winds, trees writhing in breezes
Coyotes howling in moonlight, dogs when they sneezes
Alloys and carved toys, stone gargoyles with wings
These are a few of my favorite things.
Skunk smells carried gently on nocturnal breezes
Sly double entendres and tickley teases
Beautiful salmon colored sunsets that make my jaw drop
Smell of pine 'n cedar in my sauna and wood shop!
Dolphins and doggies and toddlers and mooses
Saunas and cold plunges and honking V-flying gooses
Small mutts and storytellers and Pixar cartoons
Crazy call of the Maine dark of night loons
These are some of my nurturing tunes!
Volcanoes with lava and magma all oozing
Cross country skiing just gliding and cruising
Receiving massages unwinding and unbruising
I love my collections of adhesives and strings
These are a few of my favorite things!
So when the wasps sting
When the bored people whine
Wen I'm feeling dispirited and sad
I just think of a few of my favorite things
And I don't feel…so…bad!
Apr 4, 2015
Apr 4, 2015 at 8:26 PM UTC
You wander around the forest looking for your next meal..
You're silent, as you wander alone in the forest.
You smelled a lovely sensation, and walked toward it.
You came across a little cabin in the forest, where a small family lived.
You looked into the window and saw a little girl sitting in the window sill
You thought to yourself, "dinner?"
She looked back at you and said with a soft voice,
"You're a sly little fox aren't you? Now, go home to your family, before my father see's you."
He did, but not right away, he stared, and listened, and did as she said.
Feb 11, 2015
Feb 11, 2015 at 11:01 AM UTC
She came to me in a dream,
on a long and sleepless night.
A vision, it would seem
of a world I had left behind.
And I wonder from time to time,
I wonder how she is.
I wonder if she’s alright,
If she’s happy with the life she lives.
People come and people go,
They walk right in and out of your life.
Some mean more than they’ll ever know.
Some haunt you in your dreams at night.
And I still think of her sly grin,
and that sparkle in her brown eyes.
I miss crossing her path now and then,
and holding her in my arms so tight.
How could one so very small,
so frail, and meek inside…
Be the first that I recall,
such a big part of my life?
And I hold on to times we shared,
and think of that world I left behind.
And never once regret I cared,
for that girl I’m without tonight.
Of all my past, I miss her most.
Yet I stay my tongue, and tell her not.
It’s something that she may never know,
but I hold her still, near in my heart.
My love goes out to that browned eyed girl,
who haunts me in my sleep.
To the one who is no longer in my world,
but means so very much to me.
My heart goes out to her tonight,
wherever she may be.
I may have cut her out of my life…
But she’ll always be with me in my dreams.
Jul 6, 2011
Jul 6, 2011 at 9:50 AM UTC
It is difficult to be a man,
For I am not a typical one.
It is hard for me to go on,
There’s a secret that pulls me.
I loathe when my memories strike,
They hit emotionally with might.
I struggle so much to survive,
In a world so deaf towards my cries.
I look at a He and my heart convulses,
For I recall a He who gave me kisses.
I was young, forced and naïve,
I fought but He was much stronger.
Society might tell that I’m gay,
For I let a man violated me in a way.
But I’m not a ***** and I’m sure,
I play a role for which others envy.
When I was a teen I met her,
I admired her even if she’s older.
I was then shy and very timid,
With mental and emotional scars.
I thought of her as a dear friend,
Then she turned to be my worst fiend.
One instance she forced herself on me,
And used things that hurt me so.
A girl’s tactics differ from the stronger ***
Tears she used first and blackmail next.
She was cunning, sly and very clever,
She stole my pride and my dignity.
My fears now mixed with anger,
My determinations got bolder.
I still cry and sometimes get lonely,
Like any other victim I want to fight.
I can not shout to the whole nations,
For societies will scorn at my declamation.
Both sexes forgot that I have feelings too,
I am also made of flesh, bones and spirit.
I am not proud of what I become,
Within me clouding reasons try to calm.
My desire is to win this battle to the end,
I am capable of vulnerability like any human.
But where does my right begin?
This universe has compassion for women.
The likes of me are expected to be steel made,
Yet I have feelings too for I am just a man.
Oct 30, 2015
Oct 30, 2015 at 9:42 PM UTC
Overlook the fragile hourglass figure
Beyond corsets and pseudo-beauty rules,
Endorse thy curves and stretch marks strewn,
The dusky skin and frizzy curls,
Braille like pimples on the face
Discoloration, bumps and pores;
This Body shaming, I shall pass.
Writhing in pain and humiliation,
Drenching in rage and insecurity
While I lie,
Society curses me
Defining and redefining my chastity;
'T was the crop top, the alcohol and the sly behavior.
You set the monster free and blame the ****
This Victim shaming, I shall pass.
Beige and ebony;
They call me names blatantly
Betwixt skin color and bleached smiles.
Laugh and scoff all you want.
Harass the Black, detain them,
Prejudiced minds rule your dystopian world.
This Black shaming, I shall pass.
Without creating a labyrinth of stigma,
And seeking refugee in collective blame,
Let's construct our utopian world
Acknowledging all freaks and flaws
This Shaming, we shall pass.
Apr 10, 2020
Apr 10, 2020 at 8:05 AM UTC
I though he carried the light
where words would illuminate
driving me to a euphoric ******
a man without a face or a trace
unhindered in a double live and lies
a bubble of psychotic psychic surety
his passion was an addiction
my reservations moved a notch
addicted to a body of ideology
the stances of philosophical terms
uncovering ancient possibilities
the unfelt mysteries of history
veiled in icicles of pretence and lies
as if a Marxist, a closet bourgeoise
The stoicism of present bargains
questioning Socrates and morality reasons
a fatal dose ,examining the unexamined
as colourful as his mind blew my inner glow
he was lost in sad and low dialogues
afraid to face the earthly shallow shadows
yet his spirits moved deep within mine
and it paralysed and fed on my energy
and his delusion became my seduction
but he woke my inner poetic tongue
letting it caress all his inner wounds
A shadow hiding behind Frankenstein’s
a sly monster who lied to my eyes
ghosting in with the a pen that weakens
romancing with letters of a fiery doom
a penpal whom I met within my lowest
but whose words lay in a deep unending quarry
his warmth I could never ever tell
his kiss only a draft on the dewy grass
Jul 22, 2018
Jul 22, 2018 at 5:29 PM UTC
Good sir, one thing I owe to you: to tell you that I hate thee true.
Your sly advances show for real that I am but your body's meal,
to be deliciously consumed, and have my sanctity be doomed.
Repent, oh Devil, back to Hell! Sink back into your slimy well
where from its spout burst tongues of fire to feed your wretched, black desire.
And if you do not go today then under Earth and dirt you'll lay.
I'll see that you ne'er have a breath until you've met your certain death.
You call yourself a pious soul, yet crying's God's name you take me whole.
You choke me up in your embrace, and tell me I'll be filled with "grace."
Thy love is but a dark snake's skin, which when once shed shows what's within.
Thy hands like teeth about to clench. The stink from out your mouth doth stench
-just like the rotting fumes of graves and poisoning the prey it craves.
Ah, sir, if you are even that. You pull your tricks out of a hat.
But I can see the trickery and magic so it's plain to see:
you do not love me for myself, you'd use me; put me on a shelf
- another token that you've won.
But put quite simply, sir, I'm done.
Dec 13, 2016
Dec 13, 2016 at 10:50 AM UTC
Flickering light, images flow by
of cats and vamps and wolves on the sly
the undead tango with the dead
oh.. the books I have not read.
When something happens, something small
turns the whole place withall
popcorn doesn't pop no more
it's all a matter of blood and gore.
For when in the jungle, the quiet jungle
the lion roars tonight
the baser beasts fail to mingle
and move out of MY sight!
Jul 24, 2015
Jul 24, 2015 at 12:11 PM UTC
Wild rose, aggressive usurper,
relentless conqueror of attention, quarrels
wants to make me jelous,
pretends she is nothing but poetry distilled,
stops at every table and whispers:
"He is hard prose, the syntax, I can't grasp"
Unmindful of sly looks from various corners,
that in fact suggest, I had good riddance,
I am concerned about the clutter on my desk,
that escaped my notice during the days I was in that chasm
I was deeply in to Dostoevsky,
my cleansing ritual on such occasions: the Russian masters
when she passed my cubicle she spies Chekhov
lying on my table, waiting his turn
"The lady with the lapdog"* she reads aloud, with suspicion
would she ever understand, what Dostoevsky to me,
would have told?
Aug 16, 2013
Aug 16, 2013 at 12:06 PM UTC
I once knew a butterfly.
Her beauty knew no bounds.
She glided through the air and encapsulated my every thought.
Her delicate wings flapped away any discomfort.
But I was naive and turned away from the butterfly.
I was young and I wanted to see what other creatures the world had to offer.
I then knew an ox.
She was strong.
She faced up to challenges most would cower from.
However she didn't realise how heavy handed she was.
She broke things without meaning or realisation.
Including my heart. I missed the butterfly.
Finally I knew a fox.
She was pretty.
Her paws dragged mud through the house.
You tend to forget the sharp teeth when they're hidden by a smile.
Very clever creatures.
I found that foxes are sly, I missed the butterfly.
I missed the butterfly. But she had flown away.
Her majestic flight continued even with my back turned.
I didn't realise at the time but the butterfly,
Was stronger than the ox. And Prettier than the fox.
But I missed the butterfly. She had flown away..
Aug 16, 2018
Aug 16, 2018 at 2:29 AM UTC