Short Litters Poems

Love litters sea shore
As dimmed eyes drip promises
In endearment's pour


Dreams bind together
In words stronger than oaths
One blood forever

[Double haiku]


For Poet Destroyer's contest:” Going Haiku Crazy"...

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Sat in bed. Pen in hand.
Thoughts and words tumble out.
Sometimes random.
Sometimes ordered.
Sometimes good.
Sometimes terrible.

Crumpled paper litters the room.
Casually tossed aside.
Many poems rejected.
I search for perfection.
Sat in bed. Pen in hand....

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I’m walking back in the darkness
And it was light just yesterday
The music above my path
Litters long notes of doom in my direction
The rhythm in my step matches the beat
And I’m sprinting home to escape
The head-on collision I’m about to be part of
But I’m hit
And the glass is stained like church windows
But only in red...

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Primal poise paints
Sense succinct saint


Joy juice jumpy
Feel  fine fancy


Primal play plots
Taste thrilling thoughts


Danger drafts daze
Cull creepy craze


Abide apt art
Set subtle start


Love litters look
Bright blessings book


Game gathers gaze
Choice clusters craze




Leon Enriquez
12 May 2018
Hamlet Place, ACT...

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If you want to manage litter,
Use the litter pickeruparer,
Nothing picks up litter better, 
Than the litter pickeruparer,

Litter picked up 
By the litter pickeruparer,
Goes with litter picked up later 
With the litter pickeruparer

Litters picked up better
With the litter pickeruparer
Nothing better picking litter 
Than the litter pickeruparer...

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So much to say
At end of play
Time oozes away
Too late today


Pain litters here
Devoid of cheer
Yet one thing's clear
Pain sums all fear


Joy in odd bits
Once wore sweet fit
Sad tears now slit
To drown old wit


Can you now hear
Blunt pain paint clear
Feel drowning fear
Devour old cheer




Leon Enriquez
26 August 2017
Singapore...

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I keep telling myself
That you will come along
But I’m starting to call myself a liar
And I’m burning at the stake
At the thought of my own fallacies
My flesh is turning black
And the rotting smell litters my brain
And there you are
Two minutes too late
Well, I wasn’t lying
But what do I have to show for it now?
Some ashes and two dried out eyeballs...

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Random hands don’t comfort anymore
My own hands don’t either 
Through all the weathers 
Your cold hands glues to my torn down body
When you touch me 
Your cold hands give me chills…
 Your smooth talks litters, blood into my every vein
Am still enjoying the lust
For my head is filled with endless tears
Your ambidextrous hands 
Write the pure sense 
Of my comfort....

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In an age of constant movement,
nothing is more urgent than sitting still.

                                        —Pico Lyer

SEATING ASSIGNATION

The pick ax and the magazine it’s true,
The toilet bowl so white it’s often blue.
               Too soft paper litters.
     Chafe is not for quitters.
The bottomless vortex, a witch’s brew.

                   11/16/2020...

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Baby squirrel was first born
On both sides of the family
Grandmas wanted to hold him constantly
A bit of a rivalry developed
Why didn’t you have twins? One accused her daughter.
I tried, she replied, but it did not happen this time.
I had quads, her mother said.
I had six in my litters, said her mother-in-law
Competition on.
Baby squirrel winked at his mother.
He liked being the only one....

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Thy songs oh throng, 
Scattered as litters on the floor:
Thy message without language, 
Shattered by the wind, faint and poor.

Thy voice, thy choice 
Of words is slaughtered by impediments; 
Thou nurse audible noise,
Often heard but stirs sour sentiments.

Thy picture and structure 
I can’t figure out by nature,
But I’ve got a conviction that’s strong
-You sing a sincere song oh throng...

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Spring! Spring! Spring! 
The bells ring, ring, ring! 
I am in the park under the tree. 
I am free, free, free! 
The crows are sitting on the tree, 
They are also free, free, free. 
Nothing clever comes into my head, 
Only foolish things instead. 
More than that! 
Those critters which are on the tree 
They have more freedom than me. 
Their litters they throw on my head. 
Should I cry or be glad? 

 
Larisa Rzhepishevska...

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feral cats roam free
nuisance in the neighborhood~
kittens under shed

4/12/2022


How Many Syllables

What is a Feral Cat?
A feral cat is typically born in the wild or outdoors with little to no human interaction. If you attempt to get too close or try to pet them, feral cats view your hand as a claw that will harm them and will hiss and/or run away.

Wild Animal Haiku Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Tania Kitchin...

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There is so many kittens.

How do I chose from the pickens.

Which one will fit in my mitten.

They all look mighty smitten.

Even though their from different litters.

They say some of the kittens are from Britain.

Meowing and purring is all you hear.

All of them wanting a home.

Their all sittin in a row.

Getting ready to go.

I’ll take that little one.

He will be named Leviton.

So let it be written.

That he is my kitten....

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Eyes of glitter. 
Heart of crescents.
The damsel of my heart needs no filters.
Born with looks and skin of gold,
She walks a path of nothing but thrones.
Blessed with that as a silver spoon,
As humble as lark that life she leaves.
All she brings is fortune as told,
Not a single pride left in her as a whole.
All men do is try to woo,
She turns away waiting for the day of days.
Head held high with pride of gold,
 my damsel leaves her life with no litters....

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all litters as i walk the dunes 
and so i cry to sunlight, 
the tree hides it in its roots, 
to spring up its stem, 
the settled sand of the hour glass. 

i thought a while about the fish 
in the sea, 
zig zad,circles, 
why do we walk in a file? 
if only we could wipe those litters: 
arrows that shatter the heart. 

i draw a picture 
cobs after lion,boys after man, 
(the fields still greener ahead) 
and i pinpoint a finish, 
in the wide gullet of mother earth....

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A calloused mind unfolds 
Beneath a gibbous moon
As shadows fade in
Waning light of day

Thought turns inward
Searching for meaning
In words spoken aloud
Having yet been written

Consumed by inevitability
And ultimate demise
Paper crushed in hand
Litters landscapes

A thought in longing occurs 
Caressing ego within
Standing beside myself
Amused is my reflection

Words cannot express
In simplicity of text
What the mind conceives
Or the heart believes

JJR~ 6/30/17...

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My heart desires a precious place;
a field of fresh fragrance.
In this golden garden of grace,
great joy flows in abundance...

Dreams of delight birth a new day;
hope hovers on the hills.
Bright light litters this holy hallway,
love reigns of the throne of thrills.

Angels adore the Ageless King
in echoes that endure...
Saints up above His praises sing;
ever faithful and sure.

I need no other residence
I need no other city.
My home above, my confidence...
O sweet eternity....

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