"trotted" poems
The Emperor left his palace
with something shiny on his shoulder
it weighed as much as an apple
but was the size of a boulder
it was the greatest weapon
his workers could build
the town awaited its appearance
even though they had foot the bill
Amazing said the scholar as the emperor passed
so much power but such little weight
this right here can save a country
what you hold will educate
we will teach people
and they will listen
and if they won't
we will show them this weapon
splendid said the old lady as the emperor trotted by
I have been waiting all my life for this
we must end all wars
that is my dying wish
now we can do that
we can fight off the opposition
and make sure peace reigns
while our leaders stay in top position
I don't get it said the kid and the emperor stopped
what could you not understand about my gun?
the boy answered this world is full of idiots
and while you are surely not one
there are people out there
who would **** for that gun
let's not act like one large weapon
can change everybody under the sun
what's more likely is that it will only amplify
the issues that should be regional
we'll proclaim "Our gun is big!"
to justify that our choice is final
the bigger the gun
the more people it could ****
and the more people that can die
the more people that will
Aug 11, 2014
Aug 11, 2014 at 4:22 PM UTC
the wandering fox
spotted the grapes
hanging above its reach
This will quench my thirst,
it told itself
and tried various stratagems
to reach the distant fruit
the fox jumped up;
the fox rolled rocks to below the grapes
and stood on them
and jumped again;
the fox sang songs to the grapes;
the fox threatened the grapes
and even tried positive thinking
and with eyes closed
a good measure of visualization
in which the grapes fell into its open mouth…
But all to no avail…
And at last
the wise fox said:
Ah, who needs these grapes?
They must be sour and turning bad anyway…
And off the fox trotted away
Oct 4, 2010
Oct 4, 2010 at 10:27 AM UTC
Propped up I see the the lush green thirsty grass
Confusing and pretty
I feel its needs
To want to be nourished
Always to be trotted on
No reasoning for our disrespect
Yet never disrupted
Disaster we love
Apr 29, 2016
Apr 29, 2016 at 9:25 PM UTC
It was definitely winter time as I trotted thru a foot of snow
My eyes were locked onto the sky;
my self-esteem was low
& yet I made it thru the field where daffodils once swayed
The Cottage laid 100 yards before me in mid-day
It's shutters had all fallen off, & only one remained
It's door was busted, rusted--all swallowed in decay
& yet I forced my entrance & stood in the disarray
(The fact of the matter is, I liked it better this way...)
The arms of the rocking chair were worn down to the bone
As pots & pans & tupperware were splashed around the home
At least a home it used to be but that was long ago....
It seems it's one-time owner was knocked far from his thrown...
The windows were all busted out by rocks that laid the ground
The frost had overtook the place by more than heaps & bounds
It was obvious there'd been no visitors for more than many years
The less than freezing temperatures had made this crystal clear
& as I stood there shivering, thinking of the day
When this sight that laid before me was filled with sun & play
The Cottage was so perfectly constructed in this way
Children had once filled the field where daffodils once swayed
& now I had returned to complete my mission from the start
The plan, unfolding perfectly--The destruction of my heart.
Jun 12, 2014
Jun 12, 2014 at 1:58 PM UTC
your deepest scars
lie in your brain
where i cannot kiss them
until you let me make-better
kit, you've trusted hands to pet you
and trotted into snares
more than once
and now there's a vast expanse of
"come on out now, you're safe from harm"
far as the eye can see
wide open green and golden this-is-really-good
but you're haunted by steel and teeth
throwing you to the ground
a pain memory that makes you bite
until the ecosystem i built cannot remember
how to make flowers.
let the earth i've grown need you
without fear of what anchors you
let the sky i've thrown adore you
without suspicion of why it's bothered to watch
little fox, let me cultivate this garden around us
because it's a good one
more beautiful with you
the deepest scars lie in your brain
where i cannot kiss them.
Let me make-better
because i'm made better
by you
let me keep you, little fox
and i'll grow you flowers
the most beautiful you've ever seen
unto this little earth
gilded with trees
like the owl and the pussycat
my fox and me.
Jan 22, 2012
Jan 22, 2012 at 8:43 AM UTC
It was warm in Emilio’s backyard,
The site of their game of explorer.
Emilio cleared the overgrowth;
Michael complained.
He was bent over, trying
To have a conversation with the blood lilies,
But he couldn’t hear them
Above the soft sliding hiss sent up by
The passing snake herd.
(Past the Huano palms, Emilio could see them,
Moving like a fleshy woven mattress)
Both boys noticed
The glut of termites
Crawling over their sneakers.
Michael complained more.
How could he explore
Amid so many noisy distractions?
This was when Emilio went inside
To get his father’s gun.
Michael watched as he fired
Three shots
Into the clouds threading the sky.
Both explorers presumed it was the shots
That punctured the clouds and caused the snow;
In the surprising silence of snowfall,
The two boys trotted across the yard,
Catching flakes in their butterfly nets.
Feb 2, 2010
Feb 2, 2010 at 8:33 PM UTC
It was on Hallowe'en when we said we'd meet;
as we thought it might be romantically spooky;
and I trotted gaily along the pathway
through the dimly-lit park
where the predator gay *** maniacs roamed
hoping for a bit of backdoor action
and my excited little heart went
"YI YI YI YI YI YAAAAARRRGGGHHH!"
with eager anticipation
of a hot new nymphomaniac date.
We had been a-texting with
ever-increasing frankness
for several weeks and I was beginning
to get tired of wiping the keyboard clean
after each bout of frenzied
manual self-stimulation
which she had boldly urged me to
and the built-in camera was out of order
because of the damp ***** build-up.
I found the pictures she sent me
stimulating to say the very least
especially the one with the melon
peeping out from between her legs
and I found her blood-red eyes
rather exciting really
once I got used to them;
and I was quite looking forward
to the love bites she promised me
which was why I had washed my neck
with particular attention to the blackheads.
Promptly at the stroke of midnight
my putative mistress arrived
with a ******* great clap of thunder
and to say I was surprised by her sulphurous breath
would be putting it mildly
and the fifty-five inch waist
was a bit of a disappointment,
and I honestly and truly think
she might have mentioned
the suppurating scabs
and oozing boils
or at least hinted at them.
As I fought the ravening hell-bitch off
with the hatchet I had wisely brought
in my briefcase as a safety precaution
once more I rued my innocence:
how many times have I been let down
after such high hopes from internet dating
and yet - trusting soul that I am -
I had again let my heart go astray.
Once it was all over
and I gazed down at her hideous
and mutilated corpse bleeding
and twitching on the ****** bitumen,
I lifted up her skirt
just to check the melon photo
hadn't been a fake;
and although there was no large
piece of fruit in situ at the time
I could see it had always
been a very real possibility.
Sep 25, 2015
Sep 25, 2015 at 12:22 PM UTC
genuine
so many ordinary bees in our vocab hive,
workers, important, but rarely seen,
some never, or rarely trotted out,
no-fresh air, we just must be too too, too
busy, busy
had occasion to employ said titular
queen word recently, a love story
that strummed a chord of the
randomness of good love,
genuine slipped out unexpectedly,
this word, a crowning modifier to a
love poem herein written
truly a word not used too often,
perhaps because we live in a time
when it is a quality rare, though
much celebrated, like so much,
has becomes a debated talking point
but genuine is not hard to be
uncovered, it has a warmth heater
generator internal, a signal signal,
that is hard to be disguised or
mistaken
but our sensitivities are dulled,
easily misled, by the shouting and
the latent bitterness that runs through
the veins of our ordinary conversations,
making it more difficult to believe our
five sensory discernments, to what is,
and what is not,
but love, perhaps, is a genuine genetic,
at a cellular level quality that has evolved over millennia, so easier to spot, it’s heated hot, and awhy a love story should be the focus causation of my happiness, that it
yet thrives, and functions and supplies
we humans, a chance to see, to believe,
that genuine yet exists, inward and
unwarped, within we ordinaries
Jan 20, 2025
Jan 20, 2025 at 9:19 AM UTC
Let me keep in secrecy the troubles that have befallen me. For if she sees the worries written upon me she's sure to make note and in turn ask me for my reasons of longing. My sudden unbelonging for it is not here I want to be, cast into shadows walking amongst the lost and forgotten treading on a muddy Valley floor whos paths were long worn and trotted with many a misery, and snare. Please let my feet not fail me nor my minds eyes bury me in fear. Let these tribulations befuddle me no more instead place my mind on beauty and lend me a message of hope and prosperity a figurative ladder to reach heights of lights gleaned with Emerald ethereal glow and plate colors pure as snow glown in strewn out rows across the skies like Aurora Borealis
May 5, 2022
May 5, 2022 at 5:27 PM UTC
The glowing jacinth sun was just beginning its descent,
casting long, flittering shadows on horse and rider alike.
Although the horse was young, he walked
with an air of importance,
like a racer entering the track.
As the playful breeze rustled the viridian leaves,
his muscles tensed.
He perked up like a toy soldier,
watching the purpling sky with wary eyes,
the amaranthine clouds reflected in those deep sable orbs.
As he trotted about like a fairy,
his russet coat shone vibrantly in the setting sun,
a body of twinkling rubies set in amber.
The sprite padded softly on the ground
with the delicate nature of a hummingbird,
he had a stride like a river of sweet milk and honey.
The chestnut dreamer skipped across the ground
like notes across a page,
his song light and airy.
he tiptoed and pirouetted,
his three pearly stockings dancing
like the melodious keys of a piano.
Her cinnabar savior bounded over the fences
like a prancing stag,
and his dainty ears pricked forward
as his chocolate-brown eyes fixed on the obstacle ahead.
As he jumped, he lit up with a bravery
that could have been felt all throughout the arena.
Had the two not been alone,
the entrancing sight would have been easily able to charm his way
into the hearts of even the stoniest of onlookers.
With a gleeful snort,
the sunny gelding seemed to fill the air
with good-natured laughter.
The rider reached down to give him a pat,
and he brightened at her touch,
the pet like a kiss on his glossy ginger neck.
And as the last of the daylight filtered away
into the velvety mazarine sky,
his neck stretched down and his walk slowed.
Satisfied with their ride, the two made their way back inside,
surrounding by the growing darkness.
Oct 30, 2013
Oct 30, 2013 at 9:42 AM UTC
Dedicated To My Loving Daughter SUZANNA CHRISTY
On her 12th Birthday (08/09/2015)
Days rolled on; moments of time trotted; Waters changed shapes;
She walked with His Grace; smiled with His Mercy; grown with His Love.
Eleven nautical miles she hath crossed; might be twisted with ebbs and tides;
Yet His provident Arms have carried her in tender and glorious ways.
I see her seated on the banks of the stately throne with scepter of innocence,
My heart is thrilled with her mother’s heart of her child-like majesty
Envisaged across the firmament with the rainbow colours within.
Each of the rainbow shade dappled with Heaven’s Glory to glow.
I have drawn her in the sky of my fancy with figures of speech in colours,
She hath become a poem in my kingdom of poetry in pageantry.
We’ve been dreaming of her splendor glowing in His Presence
And pray unto Him no blemish shall taint her soul till the day.
My heart perceived sweet smiles on her lips translated from her within:
Every smile is His Blessing showered on her heart - gratitude to HIM.
We planted a garden and ‘ve grown the seed of godliness to grow like His Son,
Our hearts rejoice in the growth of the seed beside the sweet flow of His Love.
She hath grown through lightning, storms, showers and withstood with His Grace,
She’s been God’s Gift’ conferred on us late but in His time mystifying to mankind.
It hath been His Eternal episode that she ought to be in our arms crawl.
And God’s Gift is in His Image to grow in His Shade and fly under His Wings.
We are instruments to lead her in the way of Eternity, and her soul is precious to Him.
All have souls and all have Eternity, and have to choose His Son hung on the Cross;
Yet earthly affinity hath no role to play in His Kingdom, for He is Spirit,
And all His children ought to have His Image ever to reign in His Glory.
We perceive Truth of Eternity on her child-like countenance each day.
She hath stepped on the twelfth way of life and hath years to walk through.
Our prayer unto Him is His Providence be showered on her soul till the time.
She hath awakened us to share the Truth of Eternity in my simple verse.
Sep 15, 2015
Sep 15, 2015 at 5:24 AM UTC
I saw pig wearing white fronts
I looked
Perplexed,
Confused,
Laughter,
Then came out,
*"Never wear white, with an **** like that"*
Trotters to small to wipe,
"Skids bigger than the grand canyon"
Brown with white, I
Gagged,
Heaved,
Smelling,
Like crap, I just looked as it went
Past, I started to follow as it
Trotted along, It stopped turned
"Growling at me"
Woof Woof GGrrrrr...
"Ok its not just me? don't pigs OINK"
I stared open mouthed, fingers in ears
Making sure no wax had altered the sound,
"Did you just bark and growl at me"
"Ok I'm now talking to a barking pig"
It stared for a moment
Me at it , it at me
Then it clucked
Cluck,
Cluck,
Cluck,
Front trotters flapping wildly in the air,
And then quiet
From the white which turned more brown
Now fell an egg not white
You can guess what dropped upon the floor,
Shaped like an egg, but smelt rotten to the core,
Then it walked off on all fours,
"I was puzzled"
"A dog"
"A chicken"
"What more"
"I am forever off eggs"
Never seeing them the way I saw before,
It trotted to a farm,
A farmer I saw before my eyes
Opened mouthed, hands jested towards
The pig, dog, chicken thing,
O you meet harry, he's special you've seen
That's nothing wait and see,
"Harry what do you wish to tell the gentlemen"
"Dear sir"
"Would you mind paying up"
For what I confusingly said??
*"I'm the worlds only ventriloquist"
"Porker"
"Now you have experienced the show"
"Now pay up"
"I may be a porker, but I not stupid"
"The talking is extra"
What,
Why,
What,
Is all that spilled from my mouth
I handed over notes,
£10
£20
£30
Mouth still open, as I walked
Before I knew it at the hotel I strolled
In to my room, friends standing around
"What you get up too"
"You'd think I was telling porkers"
"Want a bacon sandwich"
I look at them opened mouthed
"Really"
They say I was as white as a ghost
"No"
I replied,
"I'm a vegan"
Since when they asked??
"Since about thirty six minutes ago"
Nov 2, 2014
Nov 2, 2014 at 8:55 AM UTC
second match lit and gone
cinders burn and hearts forlorn
the curse it summons haunts the head
with terrors of happiness that could have been
yet light seeps in through half-open eyes
though distorted with tearful disguise
as pain brings no warning, leaves none secure
as jealousy hidden in palms, submerged
the blush leaks in, roses bloom in the fall
the demise of your companions the source of it all
as you dream of the kiss you exercised on your lips
with the faint gossamer trails of a butterfly's bliss
the chill of winters creaks in your bones
the scratch of a pencil strengthening your woes
no amount of perfume will cover the cologne
no amount of tears shed with forget what you've known
four times the curse has struck the heart
and bled loves juice through every part
through wrecked veins and bruised bones
metastasizing, leaving you all on your own
through love's gentle heart brings peace to the world
a violent disguise for the pain it truly burns
candlelight vigils carry sorrow no longer
for love's vicious hand strikes down younger and younger
given sunshine rays to be brought to the soil
trotted on by millions worrying of their sorrows
problems; as if they have so much
insulting those who dare not live, dare not touch
the shreds of life they hold so dear
and those in tow they hold so near
tears. wet drivers run dry
is it always truly better to try?
sk
Sep 10, 2013
Sep 10, 2013 at 6:19 PM UTC
If I did go wrong more or less at once, I wonder where
The chop block decisions of grade school, when you first realize you don’t care
‘I just don’t care’ in whiney and off-pitch voices and messy drawers
Was it the first time you realized you couldn’t be perfect and so just stopped
Being
Was it sneaking on to computers and secretly learning more about life in books than your
Parents wished you to ***** things)
Or was it when you learned because you shouldn’t
And didn’t learn and didn’t learn, and that persistent bubble as you grew up got bigger and bigger
Some looming threat about your future dangled over your animal head like a carrot as you trotted through worksheet a, a-2, a-3
And exercises you could finish in two minutes or two hours and get the same grade
Or copy and get the same grade
And those grades mattered more and more, and vaguer and vaguer
And they guided you less as they shoved more in front of you and grabbed your nose to say
This is important, this is you
And your friends started laughing like lunatics as well as ********
And the first kids ended up crying in stairwells
And you slept in class?
Was it all that, or was it outside. Was it your parents admitting they weren’t happy.
Was it the first time you had to recognize dishonesty or cruelty in others
(you had long since seen it in yourself)
Was it the first time you wanted to die.
Is it now?
Sep 19, 2013
Sep 19, 2013 at 1:13 AM UTC
The day was for England to look solid
South Africa were happy to play slow
It turned out that England wanted squalid
Opposition gave us nowhere to go
Andrew Strauss was done in by a shooter
Jonny Trotted past a full one today
Collingwood survived ***** past his ******
Ian Bell gave us most cause for dismay
Now Kevin played nicely for a while
But Colly got out to leave us in fear
Prior left us too soon for a smile
So for Broad and Swann the plan was clear
Jimmy hit them for the SIX of the game
But for glory Graeme Swann was the name
Feb 9, 2010
Feb 9, 2010 at 11:29 PM UTC
Without any reasoning
And without any sort of logic
The praying Mantis assumes the worst in others
For others assume the worst in
Itself
The praying Mantis does not simply pray
As one might to believe
No the Mantis is always on alert
Just like a cactus with flowers
The Mantis has beauty
But up close hurts like a *****
The Mantis prefers to be in solitude
Who can blame?
Many view the Mantis as odd
With its eyes and such
The Mantis back in high school
Would get called "Buggy eyes"
Or just "buggy" for short
Boy did the Mantis get flared at that
But would anyone even have known
The raging flames from within?
Of course not.
You see even though the Mantis is alive
Its not like is has feelings or anything
Poor Mantis!
Who can behave such a loving face
Like that in any crude way?!?!
Let me tell you,
Itself.
Oh the Mantis may appear to be a
Smart intellect fellow
But what it happen to miss
Was its own abilities
The Mantis lives the day with the harsh comments
Twaddling along on two feet
Slow and consist.
The Mantis waves its long behind
Trying to please Caterpillar Cally
Caterpillar Cally was the ideal insect
With her curves and fuzzy volume hair
How Mantis wishes Caterpillar Cally was his
He awwed at her
From a distance of course
Mantis would do literally anything
To make her his
As says the old saying
Once you got what you wanted,
You wont want it anymore.
But this he ignored.
They were in love
Well, as close as two bugs could be
But one day on the leaf Cally had a confession
The dumping hit hard for Mantis
"It's not you, its me. Once I transform,
You wont want me anymore"
Mantis was confused and asked
"Why?"
"I'll lose all my hips and thighs"
He thought in silence...
Trotted away with one last saying
"I wouldn't change a thing."
Alone that night Caterpillar Cally cried in tears
As the cocoon wrapped around
Her curvy body till it was bound
The light hit like a laser
The cocoon cracked under her new expansion
She slowly crawled out
To find... the Mantis?
Butterfly Cally was in shock
Him seeing her like this
Was only going to end in mock
She turned the other way
Getting ready to fly
But something gripped her
And it held her by surprise
Locked in the Mantis grip
She struggled and pushed
Until they met lip to lip
"No stop. Don't look at me like this!"
Mantis only stared
"I Wouldn't change a thing."
"Just look at me! I'm skinny as can be,
It's almost sickening!"
"I wouldn't change a thing."
"Please just let me go! Just let me be!"
She tried to flee
"Can't you see I'm no longer pretty?"
Mantis brought her closer
Touching her wings
"I wouldn't change a thing."
Mar 9, 2015
Mar 9, 2015 at 6:08 PM UTC
The beauty I happened to have spotted,
The girl I passed in the mall,
Not just one beautiful girl, you are them all,
No name, because I never got it,
Could not tell you how gorgeous you are, but I thought it.
Your beauty cascades on me like rainfall,
You probably thought I was too small.
But, I didn’t get your number, and away you trotted.
Did you even see me?
or did you just walk by?
Did you think that I was dreamy?
or just another guy?
Did you want to get steamy?
or were you just a passerby?
Mar 28, 2014
Mar 28, 2014 at 12:29 AM UTC
There once was a man,
On a high horse he sat.
Drinking his *****
He soon became fat.
He thought that he ruled
The world from on high,
Til the horse that he rode
Kicked this *** in the eye.
"You weigh way to much"
Said the horse to the man.
"Stay off of my back
Til you're a small man again".
The man puffed his chest
As he spit foul words.
The horse snorted and laughed.
He said "You're for the birds".
He trotted away,
Left the man standing there.
The man wandered in circles,
Justly going nowhere.
He kept going in circles
Til he lost many pounds.
To his surprize
The horse came back around.
Kindly he said,
As they stood face to face,
"Good thing you kept circling
Stead of standing in place.
You can get back on my back
If you promise you'll stay
As slender as that."
Soon they trotted away.
The moral my Dear
Of the story told here
Is.....
From a high horse
Is a long way to fall.
Especially, my friend
If your mind is quite small.
JMA 10/12/2011
Oct 13, 2011
Oct 13, 2011 at 8:24 AM UTC
Laces that blew along with the wind
Draped around her body that defined her
A beauty carved by nature
She smiled at her friends and laughed at their jokes
Worked hard over every lesson
And also became the college beauty.
Twirling laces and silky frocks adorning her slim body and reflecting a grace that never could be denied
Simple but ambitious at heart
She fluttered her lashes many a time
To catch the attention of the smartest man in her batch
Though coyly posing she sought the attention of many a man
Sole for the smartest man.
Many a man came for her hand but
She kept on waiting and waiting
Realising her flaw she worked day and night
Covering her lessons, reading many philosophers,
She worked hard and the day of exam was declared
Focussing on her points and shortlisting her methods she systematically covered her portions
Delighted she waited for the hour
The teacher distributed the question sheet and the time ticked by
Cautiously she wrote her answers one by one
She handed her paper and walked out
To her surprise she saw the smartest guy lost in thoughts
When the result was declared
The Tailor's daughter stood first
Unable to grasp she stood silently meditating
The smartest guy without hesitating for the first time noticed her and passed a smile
She jumped with joy conquering her dream
the tailors daughter walked dangling her plumet, velvet clothes floating with laces
and the mild wind kissing her her silky woven dress
and soft brown skin she trotted to the tailor's shop.
Jan 18, 2016
Jan 18, 2016 at 1:06 PM UTC