"sneaks" poems
Manes sneaks!
Where is the king?
King stalks!
Sneaks quietly like a slow breeze.
The wind dies with a big roar.
Love is a strong cat.
The lion endures like a hot jungle.
Strong, giant quietly fights a rifle's bullet.
Wow, courage!
Roars die!
King falls like a brave soldier...
Copyright © Ronald J Chapman All Rights Reserved
Dec 4, 2014
Dec 4, 2014 at 5:39 PM UTC
A subtle panic like a slow death creeps, the anxiety within me, for here's where it sleeps.
Quietly loud enough to cover the sound, of the glassware you've thrown, now strewn all around.
Rocking all positive lullaby's to sleep, ensuring all menacing thoughts I'm to keep.
It's adept like the teen who's stayed out beyond curfew, sneaks in armed with oceans with which it will drown you.
All because of the lies that were said, went in through your ears and lived in your head.
The life you once had held aloft like a prize, you breathe your last breath and then close your eyes.
Poetry by Kaydee.
Dec 18, 2017
Dec 18, 2017 at 4:04 PM UTC
See, you hear this word and shiver
While some of us get problems of the liver
yup! Exams are what I'm talking about
The reason pupils start howling about
Oh exams! What do we do with you
As it approaches, students be like
A reaction no one ever seen like
In our dreams like a monster sneaks up
Within our soul like Death creaps up
Oh exams! What do we do with you
That one night before exam burden
Reminds me of the war of verdun
Only if had books borrowed or lend
All night were the eyes to suspend
Oh exams! What do we do with you
That, to be murdered day arrived
Of peaceful sleep were we deprived
When the exam hall were we to enter
Shot a bullet shrapnel in the center
Dead were we when we turned the paper
Those questions turned us into vapor
Students like us had two or three attempted
Handed over those 2 sheets and left all exempted
Oh exams! What do we do with you
You're welcome, now to hell with you
Sep 17, 2017
Sep 17, 2017 at 3:49 AM UTC
I am the product of my mistakes,
attitude, the way to success,
sometimes they make me stronger
sometimes a sense of pain.
Poetry is just the thread,
that sneaks out of my face,
basting those feelings,
with the rest.
Nov 22, 2014
Nov 22, 2014 at 3:13 PM UTC
Fur is white
Like the snow
In which it hides
By crouching low.
Fur is dark
Like summer’s ground.
It stalks its prey
Without a sound.
As the rabbit
Eats green grass,
Up it sneaks
As smooth as glass.
A silent pounce,
Barely a fight.
Now it has
A meal tonight.
Such vicious beauty
Has a price.
A hunter takes aim
As it eats mice.
Unaware
Of another being,
It doesn’t hear
The birds stop singing.
The hunter steps
But breaks a stick.
It looks around;
The tension’s thick.
The hunter smiles.
He’s about to shoot.
Now it sees
The hunter’s boot.
It turns to run
Away from danger,
Away from death
Brought by this stranger.
A shot rings out,
An undecided fate.
Did he hit his target?
Or did he shoot too late?
Sep 13, 2011
Sep 13, 2011 at 10:06 PM UTC
Failure is the hardest emotional hurdle to overcome.
It means the end of the adventure,
And worse,
That this particular end is your fault.
Failure means a creased brow, fidgety fingers, and knotted stomach
It means confrontation
And admission of guilt.
Failure means you didn't succeed.
When failure sneaks up on me at night,
Seeps into the skin on my back,
And wraps its slimy hands around my rib cage
When I'm in its vice grip
And I can't breathe
Will you give me CPR?
Aug 20, 2015
Aug 20, 2015 at 12:17 AM UTC
son spreads knee blood into ******* &/or
sidewalk chalk.
mixes reds to pinks with head cracking asphalt.
of god & country.
of soggy bread in a lunch-bag; snackpack readied.
he skates.
the concussed ****** of booming youth.
omega he:
to the wolf pack outers.
breathing love of summer, he
is the son drunk on hi-c
& burping.
watching teenaged supersoakers yodel
on a bridge.
florida.
son sneaks out late to rationalize
the city’s features
under strange light & love of nightly people.
boy sculpts body out of beast,
turned dark corners.
arrives swollen.
his father erects a roofed flattop in the backyard slab
with flood light electronics taught to worship
the shred.
mother rattles the blender
on the kitchen outskirts, ***** breathed
& nearing with hugs.
blister-itched.
glossed folds of scar tissue.
those days on summer-beyond when the neighborhood pulsates.
with satellite dishes tuneforking high-frequency vibrations
from outerspace & pigeons explode.
son’s ears bleed, &
the television goes unwatched.
he snaps plank & ankle protein, refurbishing
his legs into iron-rods
or wands of summer anthem.
cold war.
he empties sugar-sweat & toxins
into the storm-drain.
essence of wet heat, skin pinched, & friend
of ghosts.
a three legged dog lay in the shade
leisurely watching the boy skate
on endless.
Apr 1, 2014
Apr 1, 2014 at 1:11 AM UTC
There just isn't enough febreeze
to rid the room of the haze
Of a dog **** strong and silent
It kind of puts you in a daze
It kind of sneaks in, then it hits you
An olfactory h-bomb in your face
Meanwhile, he just lies there
He's wiped the room with **** mace
There is no middle ground here
They always smell like something died
Like he caught a squirrel in the garden
Now, it's rotting his insides
Dog farts, are a weapon
That our army has not used
In fact I told them in a letter
In their reply, they were amused
"We've tried to duplicate it"
"A killer weapon... stops the heart"
"But, our scientists just aren't able"
"To reproduce a strong dog ****
"Thank you for your consideration"
"We'll let you know, if we succeed"
"We agree with your kind letter"
"dog farts escape and then they breed"
Sometimes when a dog farts
It makes a noise, he turns around
"my god, I smell incredible"
is the look comes from my hound
So, if you've never smelled a dog ****
And your dog just sneaks one out
Do yourself a favour
Do not feed him brussel sprouts.
Jul 19, 2012
Jul 19, 2012 at 2:44 PM UTC
The lower back arches
Muscles tangle in with the spine
And intertwining curvature sneaks between vertebras
Creating a vineyard of sweet spirits
That I could drink from the palms of your hands
As though the gentle and rough intentions
Had forever been engraved in a fate
That the universe hadn’t even planned for it
Otherwise the circumstances wouldn’t have been
And so foolish, I looked onward to the lit pavement
Walking between the crowd in hopes that
The grasping of my soul would stop from being tortured
In ways so tender that I wish I could expand in to the millions of atoms I am
Your skin felt like a warm liquid
That washed over your bones structure
Your eyes, those brown eyes
That looked at me with a shine that
I wasn’t sure if everyone else could see
And the light freckles and tinges of skin tone
Pixelated the platform of your body
And I, could look at you forever
Without even thinking twice about tomorrow
Jan 9, 2015
Jan 9, 2015 at 12:01 PM UTC
Tomato:
Big, juicy, red
INSANE!
Sneaks up upon unsuspecting
Unreliable
MATH TUTORS!
A terrible fight ensues!
Tomato or tutor?
Tutor or tomato?
Tomato knows no math.
Tutor has no seeds.
A standoff.
Tutor and tomato growl menacingly,
Circling one another
Like two pieces of meat
On a microwave turntable.
Suddenly, their rhythmic dance of Hate
Is broken
By the rhythmic sound of incoming
Imminent
Inescapable
Doom.
Tutor and tomato are trampled
Like a TV dinner
On the freeway.
Feb 4, 2015
Feb 4, 2015 at 7:29 PM UTC
Spring sneaks by the door to the ghetto.
That's okay, they can't afford the seed.
Trees take too much room from the rentals.
No one saw the end of ghetto weeds.
Ghetto weeds once grew up sudden.
They took the food of those in bloom.
Ghetto weeds we're awful sorry,
But we haven't got the room.
Yesterday a man sold his garden
Bragging how he made such a deal.
Bought himself a high-rise apartment.
Who can tell the fruit by the peel?
Ghetto weeds once grew up sudden.
They took the food of those in bloom.
Ghetto weeds we're awful sorry,
But we haven't got the room.
What about the children of the ghetto,
Do they have the playgrounds they need?
Have you seen the children how they're growing?
Don't they shoot up just like a ****
Ghetto weeds once grew up sudden.
They took the food of those in bloom.
Ghetto weeds we're awful sorry,
But we haven't got the room.
Apr 3, 2016
Apr 3, 2016 at 6:53 AM UTC
'The sun loved
the moon so much
that he died
every night
to let her breathe.'
the beautiful forbidden lovers
never able to meet
to share warm kisses
but I remember the sneaky Moon
she sneaks out of her dark domain
I see her in bright daylight
swathed in the Sun's golden touch
opposite in the sky
they watch each other
with love so pure
although she is forbidden
in his bright domain
she is there
because she believes
that nothing is impossible
and the day comes
when they can meet
for but a few minutes
they embrace in fire
and we stare in wonder
as they meet
but then they must
drift apart
with broken hearts
she blows him kisses
whispers
'goodnight, my love'
as he sinks beneath the horizon
bursting into colors
and the Moon cries
and whispers
⠀⠀
'I love you.'❋
Aug 27, 2017
Aug 27, 2017 at 2:15 PM UTC
Waiting for the summer heat to eclipse the somber thread of one day, an old man is gifted a brand new pair of sneakers.
Father, Son, Holy Ghost? The pinnacle of the "y" axis has paralyzed the saltiness of the old man's overcoat.
"Grand dad?" A young boy turns the corner and peeks in while the old man leans over in his chair to reach his feet and lace his sneaks. "You were breathing loudly and I was just making sure you're okay."
The boy continued, "cool sneakers grandpa."
This reminded the boy of a new student in his class who moved here from Scotland, or Ireland - he couldn't remember which. Guess what the new kid in my class calls his sneakers?"
The grandfather looks up and leans back, "he doesn't call them sneakers?" "Nope" the boy replies. "I would imagine he must call them shoes, or something like that."
"Not even close. He calls them 'runners'. He came into class one day with a pair of red sneakers and Miss Kerrington had him stand up in front of class to talk about them. She said that people in England probably call them runners as a nickname for running shoes."
The old man stood up with a groan and said, "That makes sense. It seems a bit odd, but I like it. As a matter of fact, I am gonna start using that to refer to all sneakers. What do you say we go for a walk around the block so I can break these puppies in? We'll stop for some rootbeer on the way home."
The two of them set out on their walk and the old man felt invigorated. As they continued, a light rain began and the old man said, "lets get to the store, this rain'll do damage to my new suedes."
When they finally made it to the store, the old man rushed in the door pushing his grandson out of the way. Upon his entrance his eyes met with the shopkeeper's. The shopkeeper's eyes shifted to the young boy coming in behind the man. At this moment the grandfather realized that he pushed his grandson aside in his haste to get inside the store and out of the rain.
The shopkeeper turned his attention back to the grandfather who shrugged his shoulders before gesturing to his feet with a smile and said, "I'm breaking in a new pair of runners. They're not gonna dry off as easily as he does."
Jul 26, 2013
Jul 26, 2013 at 1:59 PM UTC
Two weeks, a whirlwind.
Grasping hands and locking lips,
love sneaks in.
Why do I never see this coming?
Perhaps it's never happened before, really.
Who am I to judge?
Rivers and jungles and foreign thoughts...
So far from here yet,
I have faith.
In you.
In love.
In that life will go on, either way.
And that another strong wind is coming.
Jun 23, 2011
Jun 23, 2011 at 10:52 PM UTC
A Silence stirs within the people,
As the King anoints his knight.
The man of righteous renewal,
From the very start.
So it began,
His journey across Tamriel.
Searching for a way,
To save his people.
Armor of White,
Spear of the dragon.
He comes to fight,
Those who oppose him.
His only distraction,
A fair maiden.
With lips of ruby,
Hips of curve.
She can ****** anyone,
Then rob their home.
She sneaks within the night.
Only to serve.
Nocturnal the Daedric Goddess of the Dark World.
Evergloom shail it be.
When they cross paths.
Each night they meet...
So goes the Son of Skyrim,
Being tricked.
By the anointing Imperial.
Mother of the Pack.
Mar 28, 2014
Mar 28, 2014 at 9:18 AM UTC
Transformation.
To be transformed.
Seed to flower.
Child to adult.
Caterpillar to butterfly.
A wave can turn to a hurricane,
a flame to a wildfire,
a stormcloud to a tornado.
It looms,
it darkens the sky,
it frightens.
But does not the shore dry,
the forest fizzle out?
The sun sneaks out behind a seemingly never-ending stream
of darkness and devastation.
So, too, do we transform.
A boy became a man,
but not before
he was absorbed
by darkness.
Only thereafter
could he seek out the sun.
Peace comes after war,
recovery after illness,
healing after injury...
This transformation,
it is greater,
more magnanimous
because, too,
that process,
that search,
journey,
his darkness...
it stretched on for what he presumed was his
eternity.
He was scared.
He was alone.
And then,
he triumphed;
he needed no one.
And then,
out flew a newly
transformed
him.
Out to the world,
new world,
brighter world,
out he came...
a butterfly.
Apr 19, 2014
Apr 19, 2014 at 7:51 PM UTC
Crack some fire
everywhere
on the way heaven.
Light the shadow
light a candle
down the moon.
The sun in fact
does it every day.
Scurries towards
the last dark room
down the moon.
With the colour plate
intact and full
passes by shining on
every corner and nook
every untouched end in the day
the rainbows peep on the way.
Sneaks its way through
the deep forests of orbs
up and down the passages
in the mountains of stars
even after nightingales
and robins go deep silent
the sun tiptoes on the go
lights a candle on the moon.
Moments after the sunset
facing its true north in the West
only to find in heaven
the way The Queen of Heaven
puts her footprint less step
it's the sun's true West
shows up the new crescent.
Sep 4, 2022
Sep 4, 2022 at 9:10 PM UTC
Whose job is it to make sure our kids are educated properly.
The parents are putting all the blame solely on me.
I was always told that a parent is a child's first teacher.
Although, you want to place the blame on the public school system and teachers.
Why doesn't he know how to read and tie his shoe?
But....he can unlock different levels that were unknown to you.
Nintendo's Wii, PS3 and Xbox 360 are more important to you and your children....not a lesson sent home from me.
He can count to 25.....although he doesn't recognize the numbers when he sees them.
Parents continue to say that I don't teach enough and I don't know what I'm doing.
My response is this.....some of you ruin the children. You want to be their friend and dress them in name brand clothes and sneaks.
Meanwhile....he doesn't recognize the seven days that create the week.
I asked him to read and he became upset and pushed his book on the floor.
He used inappropriate language and said "I don't want to be in this class anymore!
He's in seventh grade and reads on a first grade level.
So....my question is this.....is it my fault or the teachers who came before?
That he's not on grade level when he enters my door.
Homework rarely comes back when I send it home.....although he has a new iPod and an iPhone.
The interNet and social media.....has a strong hold on our youth.
The sad thing about this is......people won't admit that this has a hint of truth.
It still takes a village to raise a child....but things are not the way they used to be.....and you can't tell people about the children that live under the same roof.
We need to go back to the core principals of teaching our children. Teaching begins at home. That's where I first learned....to read and to write.
A little discipline never hurt anyone....it encourages them to learn and to do things right.
My question to you and it's open for discussion ......
Whose job is it ?
Oct 7, 2012
Oct 7, 2012 at 5:10 PM UTC
It sneaks up on
It makes you miserable
It pushes away your friends
It pushes away your family
It will drive you crazy
It make you think your not worth anything
You can fight it but it always wins
You can run from it but it will always catch you
You don't even want to get out of bed
You don't want to eat
You don't want to carry on
Medication just numbs it
You will feel like a zombie
It can make you cry
It can make you angry
It can make the best of us doubt
It can break you
It haunt you
Its a child
Its a mother
Its a grandfather
Its your brother
Its your sister
Its your best friend
Its you but most of all
Its me
Its the person in the checkout lane who looks like their world has ended
Its the man that has the tears in his eye
Its the teenage girl who holds her head down
Its grandmother who was at one time a joy to be around
and this disease will eat you
It will bring you to your knees
It can take your life
It is called Depression
Dec 29, 2009
Dec 29, 2009 at 10:19 AM UTC
Shoefly don't bother me
Shoefly don't bother me
Shoefly don't bother me
Or I'll begin to frighten thee
Laces on leather sneaks
Laces on leather sneaks
Laces on leather sneaks
Make a loop then round the tree.
Tall boots up to the knee
Tall boots up to the knee
Tall boots up to the knee
Come here and get in bed with me.
Jan 6, 2017
Jan 6, 2017 at 2:39 PM UTC
Clarity has claws
Within her pouncing, padding paws
Laps up goat's milk raw
Grapples a teddy bear to songs
Tied to a robe's string
Well, she plays with literally everything-
Her eyes say exactly what she means.
No **** Clarity is a cat I call to come back
I find myself pleading for her return-
With the promise of a salmon snack,
In exchange for lessons learned,
But I only capture glimpses of her white and black
As she flashes by the doorway,
Always only doing things her own way.
Since her trust is hard-earned,
I coax her cleansing burn.
She climbs up my bare leg
With her razor sharp needles,
First thing in the morning without any warning
Clarity,
Why did I beg you to come near? ! don't tear !
I only wished for your soft vibrations in my ear !
It's so impossible to change your nature
I wasn't bleeding before you were here, but your message is pure
You only come running when you're hungry!
&Would you really eat me if I died?
The way you watch with such wild eyes,
(I'm sad to know I shouldn't be surprised)
Your tapping tail compromises your position,
Your crystal clear intention
To play with your prey before you ****** and eat them
Clarity,
embodying the way her name hides and smiles, pounces for a scream
as if she were mean!
Sneaks off to surprise her next unsuspecting victim
-
Tummy full,
Warm purr, a welcome buzz
She comes, she plays with, she eats my ego, she loves, she kneads, she purrs, she leaves, I plead
ah, Clarity
-Hayleo Liz
Aug 14, 2018
Aug 14, 2018 at 10:09 PM UTC
Pretty girl starts the year not knowing what to do
Pretty she may be,
Yet she doesn't have a clue
Pretty girl, though shy she feels okay,
With a smile, she makes it through her first day.
Months go by, time doesn't stop,
She finds her way to the top.
No longer shy, loved by all
Such a shame to see her fall.
It starts on a day like any other
This time pretty girl disobeys her mother.
She lies to her, sneaks out at night,
And finds herself neath pale moonlight.
She meets new faces she hasn't seen before,
New they may be yet they influence her.
Taking their word that everything is alright,
She doesn't scream, doesn't cry, she doesn't even fight.
She takes everything they give her
With a smile on her face
Now pretty girl doesn't see the mistakes that she makes.
No longer perfect, she is undone
Bags under eyes, yet she still has her fun.
Her parents notice, her friends do too,
She tells them "leave me alone, its nothing to you!"
She runs away from school and from home,
She is feeling scared, pretty girl is alone.
Walking the streets every night and day,
Selling her love thinking everything's okay.
Tears in her eyes, a man by her side,
Beer in hand,
Packets of ******* she tries to hide.
This wasn't what she wanted from life,
Reaching into her pocket, she pulls out the knife.
She's had enough, she slits her wrists and falls to the floor,
Closing her eyes with her last breath, pretty girl no more.
-V
May 30, 2014
May 30, 2014 at 5:37 AM UTC
There once was a rat, a gym rat that is
When it came to fitness he was a wiz.
Powder and chicken was all he consumed.
All of the other foods were surely doomed.
Ripping, rushing, running around the town.
He liked to pick things up and put them down.
From his traps to calves, his muscles were ripped.
Pushing and pulling, the scales he would tip.
His veins did pop like pink birthday balloons.
His buns resembled big-booty baboons.
Many beads of sweat would drip down his face.
Gallons of water he’d drink case by case.
Visions of protein shakes danced through his head.
Others that trained with him soon would be dead.
The rat would pump iron day after day.
But, out of the gym his life was astray.
White tank tops, jean shorts, and sneaks he would wear.
In hopes that all the fit ladies would stare.
Alas poor gym rat could not catch a mate.
Perhaps, a brain workout would score him a date.
Feb 13, 2016
Feb 13, 2016 at 1:24 PM UTC
how does a dreamcatcher know which
dreams to catch?
what if it
swallows the good ones
and sneaks them off to another
reality?
what if it
holds the bad hostage
to share at the most dreadful
time?
what is time to a dream?
but just look at how it twists
and ties itself in knots so
beautifully
a community of individuality
cinching simplicity together to form
brilliance
a spiderweb of spirit trapped between threads
strung tight like the ties of
fate
showing me reality
far beyond
what we blindly
see
inspiration
appreciation
absorbing the vibes reflecting off
questions of whether a second
is time to a dream?
unrecognized reality
mind outside of body
sensory
overload
a breath of fresh
light
a taste of foreign
thoughts
the touch of a
music note
and a vision of
love
trickling quiet
tears down the
face of
time...to a dream
truth
can dance on the
edge of reality
so when i wake up screaming open my eyes and
see
my mind momentarily remains
tangled in a realm of
reality once removed
feathers floating softly
through worlds yet to be
unfurled
but shadows through breezy windows left ajar
blow my thoughts back to
now
and the sounds
and sliences
and the colors
and expressions
of my mind
are altered
by a bombardment
of influences
out of control
reality
can be difficult to
embrace
now and
again
we must
escape
to a dream
to contemplate the
impossibly
intertwined strings of
eternity
that
spiral
through
and through
tossing and
turning new leaves
as the seasons cycle
time remains immeasurable
lest by our mere
thoughts and ideas
so we
create
a geometrically
stunning display
of unspoken hope
to catch
a dream
and it hangs by the window
and if the
truth
teetering on a tightrope
between worlds
could speak it
would tell of
endless
possible
imagination
where
dreams
are
reality
and there is
no such thing as
time
Jan 17, 2013
Jan 17, 2013 at 5:21 AM UTC
The wind blows harder up here,
As though it is trying to push
these skyscrapers toppling over.
The air is purer,
easier on the nose.
The normal gas fumes from the city buses
and the polluted, busy streets don't threaten to strangle you
when you're too high for them to reach.
The people are tiny.
Like ants in chaos,
scrambling
because you accidentally set a foot
on their grainy mound.
The sounds are distant.
Taxi horns' blow sounds like squeaks of mice
while construction workers' jack hammers mimic wood peckers.
Clouds suffocate the sky,
smothering the sunlight,
refusing to let it shine as it should.
Temptation sneaks up on me,
beckoning me
over the edge of the building.
Would it be such a bad idea?
Just one move, that's all it would take.
No effort required at all.
I picture myself jumping,
as I have multiple times before.
The wind in my hair,
gravity pulling me in,
the free falling feeling in my stomach.
And at this point,
Temptation almost makes me do it,
End it all.
But I decide against it.
And even though I have won
once again,
I still feel
defeated.
Jul 20, 2012
Jul 20, 2012 at 2:02 AM UTC