"snook" poems
green eyes
how come
that warm
gently rides
to springs of heaven
from frosty blue ice
then turns black ravens
to brightest white doves
and
the hopeless cravens
to bravest heroes
lashes: turkish bows
glances like arrows
runnin' baby roes
make you chase for a while
what a perky look
cheerful naughty snook
but flowing jungle brook
sings her lullaby
a shiny pinky smile
carries an angel tribe
withinside
of the nook
thus devil got riled
was expelled and allied
with the nebbish adam
-rosy pink lips wiled
and might
clothe the seven seas
by the holly tide
May 18, 2016
May 18, 2016 at 12:51 PM UTC
Alcohol you little devil
My BFF
You did it again
Snook up on me from across the room and flirted,
Unrepentantly
Woooooo! I ****** love you!
Love your pints, your halves, your cocktails,
I crave your sweet wine breath on mine,
I love, love, love you!
My mind is hazy, crazy!
We dance
*** Karaoke!
The special kebab with chilli sauce.
Haha, stumbling, falling into the taxi
Then...
I wake and you are gone and your taste is all that remains,
oh and the stains
On my blouse
and I wake beside another all too familiar friend
“Hangover from hell”
He laughs at me
OH JESUS! PLEASE STOP!
My head bangs from his taunts
I need paracetamol,
Coffee, double espresso
Kickstart me , reanimate me!
I wind my way to work looking like a car wreck
Just want this day to end...
But you have me, Alcohol you devil
My BFF
Will I see you tonight?
Same time, same place?
I’ll be there
Yeay!
Jun 14, 2014
Jun 14, 2014 at 8:17 AM UTC
Mud bug Stew, Black beans and rice
Collard greens and fat back boiled up Nice
Nothing like a Bowl of Fila Gumbo
Boozoo Chavez play the Crawfish mombo
Blind drunk Betting, and Letting Dollars go
And he blew it all on horses and Ho's
Boozoo got a taste of Cold Cash And Cadillacs
Clifton Chenier in Lake Charles too
Snook right past ole drunk Boozoo
His accordian tunes Ripped right By
Boozoo Chavez who did not Know
How Clifton Chenier became
The KING of ZYDECO
Nov 13, 2014
Nov 13, 2014 at 12:44 AM UTC
Cupid’s arrow snook up on me
darted my heart gleefully
he could have given a part-time thrill
but no he went for the ****
pierced me for eternity
paved the path for matrimony
I’d love to give him a big kiss
and hope your heart he hasn’t missed
Apr 12, 2013
Apr 12, 2013 at 10:27 AM UTC
as she's
taken awestruck
that her
inhibitions tuck
her smoothly
that post
her triumph
where silky
swivels exclaim
how willingly
her mantra's
buck begin
this cool
tale only
beguile this
gristle or
a snook
Dec 3, 2017
Dec 3, 2017 at 2:50 PM UTC
I ordered a Polaroid camera
And bought some film and filled it
I brought it up toward my brown eye
Squinted and the room I lit
The flash so strong the smiles so real
The little white photo snook out
A moment not only frozen but hidden
White, hushed voices trying to shout
Slowly the moment came back
The scene melted back into place
The people came back even brighter
The smiles returned to each face
And I wondered what makes a Polaroid different
What gives the physical photo more appeal
Why do we care so much for something to hold
Why are flash and film a big deal
I don't think it's in the style
In its retroness or thrill
I don't think it's in the speed
You wait for it a little
I believe in that small photo
In that something you can hold
You think what is in the palm of your hand
One could not possibly unmold
That moment is for ever
The smile evermore
No matter the time that passed
No matter how long before
There's something about holding it
That's makes you think you can have it forever
That somehow you'll freeze time
That somehow time isn't so clever
You feel you have time in your two hands
The control with small fingers
That this wouldn't slip from your grip
That those grins would always linger
Although it may not be so
And cameras aren't time benders
They bring you back and forth
Through the memories they render
So maybe holding on tighter
Doesn't do a thing
But having it to hold
Just may give you wings
Aug 3, 2016
Aug 3, 2016 at 12:54 AM UTC
There I stood amongst the crowd. Hundreds have gathered, like prairie dogs, we are still, with our eyes focused out past the rocks, and into the setting sun. The dolphins are rolling in the waves, and feeding on the snook. The earth is now cooled in the late evening breeze, and the sun begins its journey to the bottom of the ocean. The sky lights up with the most brilliant of colors, oranges, reds, pinks, and blues. All eyes look west, soaking up the picture.
Against the crowd, I turn my back to the setting sun!
I look away and into the eastern sky to see the clouds lit up just as brilliantly as the west, but there is more. The sun reflects off the condos showing their true colors, and the sandy shore is a fiery orange lined with birds after their final meals.
It is the picture that most won’t see. It is the forgotten view. Just as beautiful as the west, but with our backs turned against it we often miss out. Most will look west in hopes of catching what every one else is looking for. The beauty of the sunset, But what is beauty?
To me it is what most will not see. They want to see it, but they will miss out. Distracted by the obvious sunset, they forget to turn around.
Beauty is intentionally turning around and looking at something for all it is worth. It is looking at something or someone for more than what the world looks for. It is seeing the whole picture. It is the uneven dimples of her smile. The sorrow in her eyes as we pass by the homeless. The gentleness of her fingertips pressed against mine, and how she tries to hide her little sneezes. Beauty is the way she looks as she brushes her teeth in the morning, and smiles at me through that foamy mouth. It is the words she whispers gently in my ears just before I fall asleep at night.
I am turning my back to the falling sun in search of that true beauty. What will the east hold for me? I am looking, where are you?
Jan 18, 2010
Jan 18, 2010 at 1:18 PM UTC
It jumped on my table
I waved it away
It's a bit unstable
I guess you could say
It chewed my fence
I shouted it to stop
It's brains a bit dense
The penny needs to drop
It snook into my house
I showed it the door
I'd rather it be a mouse
They don't leave mess on my floor
It seems to have disappeared
I looked around the block
Run away I feared
My sorrows a shock
It still hasn't returned
I hope it's safe and well
Well heres something I've learned
I even miss it's smell
May 24, 2016
May 24, 2016 at 4:48 PM UTC
Last night she came into my bed
in the dead hours before the light snook into my eyes and through the shadows lined up like labourers on the walls in my head.
She woke me into another dream I'd had some years before and as I stuttered to form the words to speak to her,
she shared with me,
a picture,some melody I remembered vaguely
which though nice was rather sad.
Quite glad that being well prepared for these invasions of the night, I had snared a little spot,not too cold,not too hot and we could tot up what we got up too, as morning grew into the day it would become.
It's like I won some inter-universal game of chance,first prize,last chance of romance and I have glanced quickly through the rules,
as fool as I am,not sure how to be a man and anyway I never knew what the plan would be
or if entering this game of chance was free or would there be a fee to pay.
She took my mind away from thoughts like this and in that first kiss when my body being in overdrive felt like I'd arrive before I'd even left
she put me back to idle speed
and now in idling how I need her more to stamp the accelerator to the floor and race me on to that place where all doubts have gone and we will get there
in time to share cakes and teas and
indulge ourself in pleasantries.
Tonight I need her to come again
to come with me upon the dead hour train that speeds through lifetimes,through those windowed pains that although washed and cleaned have dreamed of sordid sights in more sordid nights and now
and now
the train of thought has stopped
this malady crops up from time to time
and I say that 'my memory's fine'
but then I would.
I want my caller in the night to think that I'm so good and not affected by that infection,age
she might
not notice line and wrinkles that twinkle in the star or moonlight
or she might.
I make light of this and wait for more,just one kiss more
one kiss I guess is more than less
one kiss
and then I sleep.
Jul 3, 2013
Jul 3, 2013 at 7:27 AM UTC
it was late at night when things got silent.
a mid aged woman's daughter, snook her moms bottle, the same bottle that sent her mom insane just earlier that night.
the girl drank gagging to the taste, and she kept drinking.
the bottle then became empty.
her world was blurry
just like her mind that night.
she was numb just like her heart,
it was like a dream to her.
she was chasing the butterflies the same way she would chase her dreams.
alive, and walking dead.
she went into the bathroom and looked up in a mirror were she saw nothing.
she felt worthless to herself so she sat on the floor, took out a razor and began taking it apart.
holding her blades hesitant and courageous, she began to hover over her wrists.
the sensation of release before the slicing through her fragile angelic skin.
she cut and it was deeper than what she could normally take.
she counted as the drops of her own blood spilled out, watching the life fading away from her right before her very eyes.
she started to loose count and began to look up at herself.
she waned to go back but it was already too late.
she fell to the ground before she could even scream her pain.
she dropped beneath the ground and kept sinking.
oh god where did she go...
May 14, 2015
May 14, 2015 at 1:59 AM UTC
It is nature of all the mothers
To heartily cherish their sons
To believe with worship
In the mortality of the sons
To whim and fancy
That nothing can beat their sons,
It is nature of all the mothers
To replace their love for husbands
With the love of sons,
Always to suspect
That their daughters in law
Are giving raw deals of life and love
To the precious sons,
To stress for ****** marriage of the sons
To doubt and snook at the beauties of sons’ loves,
It is nature of all the mothers
To be in nostalgia of their past love
On the look of the new beards on sons’ face
To equate the ****** tone in the sons bass
With the voices of a raw lover
On the nuptial night of the eloping evening,
It is nature of all the mothers to fault the person
Of other woman’s sons
Only to glorify the character of their own
As they project fortune for heir own
But stark fate or failure
Befalling the male neighbourhood,
To ask the powers that be
For a political treat to their sons
On a baseboard of full discredit
Unto the otherness that be.
Oct 31, 2014
Oct 31, 2014 at 9:06 AM UTC
Children of these days
They're in big dismay
Their attitude, degrade
Their lifestyle is fake
Their value in my eye seems depreciate
They're such a big disgrace
*
Children of these days
Can't walk without dancing
Just a slight rhythm; and they'll start bouncing
Devilish music; devilish words gat more liking
*
Children of these days
Their behaviour makes me sad
They would even say 'Hi' to their dad
That's really bad
An act of being Retard
*
Children of these days
They're so decietful
They won't even greet you
*
Children of these days
are so mono
They're less gospel and more solo
Surfing the internet; looking for free *****
Man; this logo you have is real loco
*
Children of these days
Their ways are odds
And they spit missiles of words
They don't want to stain their boot with dirt
But they forgot they're firstly designed from mud
*
Children of these days have big mouth
They are too proud
They're much of meriment; they're too loud
*
Children of these days
Should watch out for hollow
They'll say "we are the leaders of tommorrow"
But they do not know
The path to success is narrow
*
Children of these; I pity
For they think they're pretty
But their style of life is filthy
*
Children of these days
They post pancaked face on facebook
And ask "How do my face look?"
Ma'am; "you're just a lame snook"
About to get trap in a fish-hook
*
Children of these days
Don't know their culture
Shoulder 's on; like vulture
That latitude that you walk-on; is not yours
these attitude of yours that you does nurture
Will torture and dis-configure your fine posture
*
Children of these days
Please take heed
Life is more than that; which you see
So, children of these days; please repent
Before you have a child; you know attitude do reflect
I am never gonna relent
So that my children; that day; won't be bent
Jul 12, 2018
Jul 12, 2018 at 4:08 PM UTC
Breaking day.
It used to be that we could talk,
but now we balk at doing so
in this we go the way of many
and become one with each other's
silent enemy,
When did we become him and she?
we didn't see that coming as it snook
along the skirting board.
This feast of innuendo
this banqueting on pain
a meal that's fit for no one
and yet we eat again.
Dec 12, 2016
Dec 12, 2016 at 12:16 AM UTC
a sleeveless
snook that
shook the
world from
its bar
did then
retort him
as ye
professor traveled
in place
of Trump
where his
Cadillac in
the news
would cordon
worry on
his brow.
Aug 30, 2018
Aug 30, 2018 at 8:45 AM UTC
I snook through the window and settled on the floor
A cold icy draft floated under the door
Footsteps walked above me and voices talked in the night
Fear became my ally as I anticipated a fright
I edged to the stairs and climbed them one by one
It appeared the ghosts of yesterday wanted me gone
On a dark landing a light shone up ahead
The reality of seeing spooks was filling me with dread
I creaked open the door and the light illuminated my eyes
Rumours say unhappiness means the spirit never dies
The room was cold and empty as dust hung in the air
These phantoms were playing games and I was trapped in their lair
Walking to the stairs my chest began to feel tight
At the bottom of the stairwell stood a girl all in white
I woke on the garden lawn wriggling in pain
From that day onwards I was never the same again
May 17, 2016
May 17, 2016 at 10:15 AM UTC
As we sit here and strain our brains
Imagining, how could such inane things
Be defined, as anything other than profane
Could it be I'm just insane, or
Are the details only but a distant memory
Traces of strange faces
Faint images of kinfolk, who joke
An old trace of what's unseen by thee
Estranged behind the smoke
Take it in then make it float
And now they're awoke
Weather welcomed or snook in
No matter if they mock or mope
They maintain the design
Between an invisible line
Called what they let us see
And what we spoke
How astonishingly wicked it may seem to be, to recognize such hard to explain queries
Transmitted from one form to the next
Disintegrate, then reshape and rise as planned
Organized thoughts followed by polluted fog
As it settles in the middle looking back at us
Either their sinister or they giggle
as we gaze into their crystal ball of vapory expressions
Process of breakdown tries to take you down
With impossibilities hard to even speak about
Safe to say we all agree to keep it in order
Leave it be so recovery won't need to be
One two three, therefore you see
This design ranks mighty high somewhat like glee
Major factor in this, isn't the higher I get
It's as I inhale each hit I am being equipped with heightened senses Relentless against outside interference
Considering element of time restraint
Likely to influence hindrance on today's to do list
Which will warrant such mental analysis Wit thought intelligence, hah
Being is such a mere fragment of life
Inside imagination, any privileged would and will see eye to eye while undercover Patiently waiting for the perfect exit, or is it entrance
Be it coming or leaving its a secret
Shh.. please aint no repeating this
Yes you're on the guest list
And I suggest you stay in line
There is no set order, in which we smolder
To set trapped souls free as we breathe
Breeze May
Jun 10, 2020
Jun 10, 2020 at 5:55 PM UTC
We are
stillness
Before water break
Tenthousand ripples,
Silent calling
Of midnight crane,
And light
Soft
Dancer
on the air
On the surface tension balance of
all things unknown.
A warm wind
Carrying the scent
Of forgotten old summers,
Cut through me.
Tears
Here,
Where the river bends
And time and your pale thighs surrender,
We are nothing but
Two lines
Crossed in a hidden current,
Lost somewhere inside
the moon’s
Secret arc
Sep 8, 2024
Sep 8, 2024 at 9:33 PM UTC