Biography of Scarlett Treat
Hi, Fellow poetry lovers! I officially retired from working recently, after a lifetime of hard labor, but then I found out that retirement wasn't enough to live on, so I am back at work, Part-time only! I still have enough time to do some of the things I love.
I am a member of the Mississippi Poetry Society, The National Poetry Society, The Northeast Mississippi Art Association, The Mississippi Writer's Guild, and a new group that is meeting, so new that we don't have an official name as yet, so we call ourselves Daddy's Lame Duck Poet's Society.
My main pleasure in life, however, is my three grown children and their five children. Those Grandchildren are what keep me young and looking forward!
Since coming on PH, I have learned so much and made a great group of friends worldwide! My poetry writing has seemed to improve, both from reading others work and help from others here on this site, so I love being here.
Scarlett Treat's Works:
I have one self-published book, REMEMBER SEPTEMBER. It was written during 9/11, because I had just had knee surgery and was stranded on my sofa. I published it because I wanted my children and grandchildren to always remember what that time felt like, to never forget. I have enough poems written to fill a dozen books, but don't know just how to get them published. I have several published works in Mississippi Poetry Society's anthologies, and I have won several second and third place ribbons in competitions there. I also am now published in Tangled Web's anthology of Internet Poets! Soooooo,
slowly but surely, I am getting there!
Scarlett Treat Poems
A Tribute To Tough Old Broads
I'm wearing PUR-PLE! I'm wearing PUR-PLE! Ha-Ha, Ha-Ha! I've Kicked over the traces,
I lean myself against the Empty, transparent windowpane, Looking, looking. My staring eyes watch my own image,
If it were not For Coffee, I don't think I could face mornings,
Alone, By Choice
I am alone, By choice, Because the sound Of your voice,
Candy Store Window
The loneliest place in the world is outside, looking in,
Cages, Prisons, And Other Forms Of Captu...
I tried To capture a butterfly In my hand, Hold its beauty
Running, Running, Running
The motel was ragged With weeds grown all around. Bottles, beer cans and crack pipes Littered the unkempt ground.
My arteries have been opened to bleed on the altar of heaven. I kneel there, begging mercy from the insatiable priestess of love.
Laid bare, stripped, Punished by your loss. I lie in my lonely bed At midnight, tossing,
An American Death, Revised
To see an American Death, see the bitter green, acrid factory smoke and fumes from belching, sprawling, raw-edged factories. See the tired, greasy figures in shabby overalls,
In the still night, In the deepest, darkest night, Where there is no night.... Monsters lurk.
Poet of my heart, Dream child. I loved you before you were born. You lay in my womb, under my heart,
They heard the young girl's screams, filled with panic and fear, but the city dwellers kept their windows
Silent No More
Super Dome, Super Dome, site of pleasure, site of sin... you opened your doors
You're always welcome
At Rosie's Bar and Grill,
In the middle of nowhere
Where the west still lives.
On a long road in Texas
Between here-and there,
A cowboy can stop in
And shake off his cares.