M: IV: ...All the Bad Days Gone

Good at what I need to do,
I'm bad at what I like.
What I like's not normal-
goes from Lucifer to imp.

My wife is necessary.
She is on my side.

Happy with all I see,
I cannot look at anything
for doubting that it's there.

When I'm bad,
I do whatever I like.
I am free of care.

poem by Douglas Scotney
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

B: III: Old Lady of the Camellias

Often met first with eyes
Dark mysterious crevice
Entices nostrils in.
Fingers, tongues, they follow.
Tales unfold
That were untold.
Disgust, it soon takes hold.
One, too staunch for hate,
Tale-tired for toil,
Tells with flower-matching ribbon
What she's made of love and Fate.

poem by Douglas Scotney
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Poetmother In Rags At The Doors Of Ikea

My daughter lives in there.
There's no way I could stay:
Look at what I'm wearing,
Even though I gave my daughter.

You see all my sin.
No way could I fit in.
But still,
I have given daughter,

So stand aside!
I will not be denied
A little look inside
What I've given daughter.

poem by Douglas Scotney
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

To A Fly Of The Land

a personal prayer, an excuse and a warning

On this the land
On which I swat
you steward of the land
On which I squat
Forgive me my trespasses.

I acknowledge my failings:
I swat flies on railings.

Keep out of my way
Don't lose your glasses
Don't give me cause
To go to swat classes.

poem by Douglas Scotney
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

les Fleurs des Mots: Faire du Foin

Un beau soir
je me promene,
et sens
trop beaucoup de foin.
Il a de mauvais gout soupcon
quand je dis 'bonsoir'
et ris aux eclats.

A beautiful evening
for a walk.
I say 'good evening'
and burst out laughing.
There's a hint of bad taste about it,
but the smell of grass is much too strong.

poem by Douglas Scotney
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Mrs Robinson III-Eternality

Finely tuned
He topped his heights
With extra draughts of nectar.
He could see humour and sorrow in all.

Amusement in a mountain
Brought a tear
For friend not here
And never here again.

'Her song is soft as mine.
Now she's only song,
Sorry as I am she's gone,
Our songs are out of Time.'

poem by Douglas Scotney
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Tough Goin

As a Queenslander I'm told
I say fuel for fool
Go to skewel not school
'But hey' is a vocabulary tool.

When throating an alien
I'm not South Australian
I don't make flu of a cold.

I was fueled on hey but,
Skeweled to be tough,
To me the flu is a cold,
No more than three letters in 'fluff'.

poem by Douglas Scotney
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Dorothy's Response

There is an eminence amongst our hills.
There is a deep quiet in its height.
A man I love of lofty mind
Shares with that mount its quiet.

I admire the quiet.
I seem to require it,
Though it limpens his love for me.

If I wasn't so dotty
Instead of 'YOUR EMINENCE'
I'd have called it 'MOUNT DOROTHY'.

poem by Douglas Scotney
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Mrs Robinson

Finely tuned
He topped his heights
With extra draughts of nectar.
He could see humour and sorrow in all.

Amusement in a mountain
Brought a tear
For friend not here
And never here again.

The thought she's in a better place
Only doubled mourning.
The better place is here.
Why can't she still be here?

poem by Douglas Scotney
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Satire I

According to Keats
Thought order best expressed
Is clothed in dramatic form,
Next best in rhyme and song,
And least expressed in prose.

I'm the spokesman for the throng.
Prose is largely what we are.
There's room for a bit of fluff.
Dressed up or down we like our arts
With laughs and frilly stuff.

poem by Douglas Scotney
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!