Category Archives: Poetry

Any post which contains one of my poems.

A Past Favorite – At Least, of MIne!

Years ago, four, I believe, I caught a show on BGT that took my breath away.  I listened again…it still does and brings a tear to my eye.

For your enjoyment, now, as it might have been then:

The Impossible Dream

Namaste,

Scott

I Sit in the Corner – Revisited

I Sit in the Corner

Years ago, I wrote a poem and though it didn’t receive accolades, I love it very much.  It is listed in my history markers to the left, but I wanted to revisit it and let you read if you haven’t.

By Scott L Vannatter – 07/05/12
I sit in the corner, a ragged doll,
No bones, no frame, no peace of mind.
Using a nail to scratch the floor
To make a difference, for one to find.

I sit in the corner, a woolen cloth,
Just feeding moths as I slowly die.
Once I was used to cover a toy
A shiny doll, cherished so high.

I sit in the corner, now an old box
My insides poured out; I tossed aside.
Used for holding treasures dear
A doll and blanket did I hide.

I sit in the corner, crumpled and torn
Wrapping paper of colors so bright
Covering a box filled with toys bought new
To give a child a time filled with light.

I sit in the corner, growing old and grey
Ignored by most my time spent all
Did my duties and worked and helped
Now I feel just like a doll.

 

Namaste,

Scott

Amanda Palmer – It’s My Post; I will Write What I Want (Note- Rated R)

Okay, I tried to do it in the title, but let’s do it very clearly right here:  This particular post can be read without any problem by  most anyone.  However,  IF YOU DECIDE TO WATCH THE LINKS (ESP. THE SONGS), then be advised of possible profanity and/or nudity.  There, that’s for those of you who just can’t deal with that.  The TED video is what you will want to watch, I imagine.

Source: Google Image Search licensed for reuse. Click pic for page.

I was buzzing surfing playing looking searching the Internet today ( well, yesterday, now) and came across an older vid I had already seen of Amanda Palmer.  Now, there are going to be those of you who say, “OMG, not Amanda Palmer!” (maybe even not so nicely).  There will be those of you who scream, “Yeah!  Amanda Palmer!” (Not so many).  And, there will be many of you who will say, “Who?” (a lot of those, I imagine).

Amanda was someone I met online (just me, she had little to do with it).  I saw her in a TED video.   During THIS VIDEO, she spoke a great deal about the power of not worrying and simply asking for help.  She also spoke highly (more here) about making songs free and asking for help from fans.  If you do nothing else in this post please WATCH THE “THIS VIDEO” above.

I followed this by listening to some of her songs:  Pick a Couple (The words speak volumes, whether or not you like them or even her)

Then, to top it off…  Well, here’s the story, in brief:  She did a concert in England.  The “Daily News” (Tabloid) covered the story and said very little about it except that her breast managed to fall out of her top at one point.  Instead of getting mad, she did the following at another concert (I believe it was the next one): RIGHT HERE!

So, she has my vote.  She has rhyme and reason to her songs; she isn’t afraid of much of anyone/thing; and, she is attractive (had to throw that in there).

I like a lot of her ideas.  The big one about music being free and the groups/singers being supported by gifts from the fans is wonderful (Watch the TED talk).

This is a post in support of what she stands for and who she is.  I only wish she would see this and make a comment!!!

Namaste,

Scott

To Katy

My great aunt, Katherine, treated me like her son.  Her death weighed heavy on my young heart.  It never really occurred to me that I knew 5 of my great grandparents and 3 were around into my mid-teens.  My mamaw cried the day I got married.  When papaw asked her why, she told him that we were so young.  He then reminded her that when she was that age, she was married with a 5 year old.

___________________

To Katy

By Scott L Vannatter

7/22/85

I wasn’t there when she passed away.

I wish I had been so that just one more time

I could tell her I love her.

She had treated me as her own, giving me all

and asking none.  I feel so selfish sometimes when

I think of that, and it hurts.

She leaves behind a great-uncle, someone who

will miss her most of all

and that hurts, too.

Death seems a random dictator

commanding an audience long before

all are ready.

I see the pain all around the parlor

and think why? She doesn’t hurt why should we?

Then I miss her smile again and once more I hurt.

The cemetery does not look so uninviting.

The air is clear and fresh and the flowers show

that life goes on for most if not for all.

They’ve dug the wrong plot?  Well, we’re all

human, and you know she would have been the first to laugh,

“Going out in style,” she would’ve said.

You make me angry leaving like this, unannounced.

But the hurt overcomes the anger,

and the love overcomes the hurt.

You can’t bury memories and so the love goes on.

I will miss you

but I will not forget.

_____________________________

Namaste,

Scott

Early Winter Poems Continued

Three winter poems.  In the first, I watched as a cat tried to catch a bird on the snow.  In the second, I was driving home from my second job and it was dark and snowy and I was a bit sleepy.  Finally, I was walking one day and being very careful and saw a foot print.  Enjoy!

.

Providence

By Scott L Vannatter

12/16/85

.

.

Soft pad, feather-light step upon the fresh mounds.

Hardened by the cold, the Tom creeps forward.

.

Small sparrow, unknowing prey, tips across, tiny beak

darting in-out, gathering small bits of bites.

.

Within reach the neck ripples, ready for launch,

sinews stand tight, flexed by instinct.

.

Front paws, claws out, stretch upward, hungrily.

White buckles and opens its maw, swallowing coldly.

.

Taking flight, the young bird sails over the saving crevasse,

the yellow eyes gleaming from the depths.

___________________

Silent White

By Scott L Vannatter

12/16/85

.

.

Lights fade, dead noise, only tread on ice,

A steady hum, reminder of the world, not distraction.

Half a length  of the long arm to talk me-to-me.

Quiet conversations, the night folding, the stakes pulled.

Half-dream, the world screams with silence.

Strings of white stretch car-to-car, a chain of brightness,

ready to wrap the tree.

Vent on, the fresh chill wakens, window down, clearness shines.

.               White ball of cold light glistens the snow hump,

.                 stretching shadows long, spot-shine of purity,

.                   star-covered earth sending points back.

.          Past, present, future all rolled thoughts jumping, merging,

.               all time as one, no time, everytime

.           Thoughts groping, hoping for answers, but none.

.          Then beauty creeps in, crowding out and love answers.

_______________________

Memories of Snow

By Scott L Vannatter

?

.

.

Trudging up the white mounds to the walk,

steps icy, glassy, frosted ground-windows of water,

fear of quick descent into blackness, I move slowly.

.

At the upward corners I spy a memory.  Little shape,

sole-in-snow, a print, not unlike a camera creation, the

ridges are ant-mountains, zig-zag pointers showing the

Have been, was once.

.

Movement transformed to solidness, the journey continued,

is continuing, will continue – memories remain.

.

Some deeper, touching ground, concrete, foundationary.

These tiny remembrances of play and childhood fade

into the day, forgotten but by one.

______________________

Namaste,

Scott

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