Scarlett Treat

Rookie - 22 Points (1941 / Jug Fork, Mississippi)

Scarlett Treat Poems

281. Fighting Aging 6/20/2006
282. Calling Me Home 4/14/2007
283. About Being A Wound-Binder 5/21/2008
284. Angie's Beach (For Ask) 4/24/2008
285. An Alice-In-Wonderland Poem 6/30/2007
286. The Innocents, Co-Writer Ron Dragano 6/26/2006
287. Wednesday Never Came (For September 11th Victims) 9/10/2006
288. Bits And Pieces, Or Falling Apart After Sixty! ! 1/30/2006
289. An American Death,2nd Revision 8/20/2006
290. Goodbye (Revised) 7/10/2007
291. Catch Me - If You Can 2/18/2006
292. Silent No More 4/18/2006
293. Another Life 8/27/2006
294. Motherhood-Mother's Day,2006 5/4/2006
295. Still Night 3/6/2008
296. An American Death, Revised 8/18/2006
297. Agony 1/27/2006
298. I Bleed 2/22/2006
299. Running, Running, Running 5/10/2006
300. Cages, Prisons, And Other Forms Of Capture 5/29/2007
301. Candy Store Window 2/6/2006
302. Alone, By Choice 7/7/2007
303. Loneliness 9/8/2006

Comments about Scarlett Treat

  • Ernestine Northover Ernestine Northover (4/13/2008 2:35:00 AM)

    Scarlett is not only a great friend but a poet of note. Her poetry is a pleasure to read, her humour abounds, her sweetness shines through her writing and you won't be disappointed when you start to read her work. A delightful lady that I am honoured to know.

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  • Donall Dempsey Donall Dempsey (1/4/2008 8:01:00 AM)

    Well baby if I'm the're the tops. I doff my trilby to ya!

    love Donall Donall

  • Gregory Gunn (12/4/2007 11:47:00 PM)

    Southern Belle Scarlett, aka Linda, has been a staunch supporter of mine at PH for some stretch of time now (Oh, it must be nearly a year and a half) and I applaud her loyalty. Her poems possess a passionate sincerity of genuine feeling, employing an economical language easily understood; concise and to the point with absolutely no ornamental baubles attached. Yeah, short and sweet and always a treat, that's my Scarlett! And by the by folks, she just happens to be one upstanding, generous, considerate and dynamic individual who won't back down to self-admiring braggarts. Scarlett is often a mint julep on a sweltering Mississippi afternoon in July, refreshing and tasteful. Quite frankly, my dear, I am glad to have met your cyber-space acquaintance, and as a result, I doff my fedora to your slendid elegance.

    Multiple hugs and kisses,


  • Daniel Tyler (6/18/2006 2:53:00 PM)

    What a poet. A powerful, gifted writer, her work is raw and passionate like the Southern landscape she heralds from, yet always well crafted and with a lovely turn of phrase. Scarlett, many thousand miles part us, but you are a kindred spirit.

  • Anna Russell (5/1/2006 8:10:00 PM)

    Scarlett is a Treat! Pain and beauty walk hand in hand with her sultry Southern songs. And not only is her poetry a joy, she is a truly lovely woman. So I would advise all of you to read her work then send her a message - so you too can enjoy the friendship of this amazin' chick!
    Anna xxx

  • Gina Onyemaechi (4/22/2006 12:10:00 PM)

    This lady has written some real gems. Amongst my personal favourites are 'Roses in December' (a beautiful melody) , 'Seaside Song' (a rich and sensuous set of images) , and 'The Photograph' (a slice of nostalgic brilliance) . Then there's her 'I Bleed'. If you are of faint-hearted nature, then I caution you strongly not to visit it; it is a seriously high-impact, passionate portrayal of bitter pain.
    Yes, the above are fine pieces of writing indeed.
    Long live you, Scarlett!

Best Poem of Scarlett Treat


I lean myself against the
Empty, transparent windowpane,
Looking, looking.
My staring eyes watch my own image,
But it slowly becomes your face.
My uncharted breath
On the clear glass windowpane
Slowly melts rivers of water,
And my fingers draw
Your name.

My mind recoiles
from the longing thoughts.
My moist fingers are
Frigid from the connection, and
The desire for your love
Pounds in immense silent waves
Through my soul.
My heart longs for you,
And yet, I am still alone.

For Frankie, with love, from Johnnie

Read the full of Loneliness

The Blind Man Can'T See

My lonely heart reaches out,
And out, trying to touch
Someone, somewhere,
Like a blind man feeling
His way through a strange room,

Stumbling, groping, reaching out,
Trying not to fall over sharp objects,
And, like the blind man,
I often fall
And hurt my heart.

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