Daylight Marching Past (Monoku Form)
Leafs rustles, trees shake, winds whirl, rays of sunshine, wispy sapphire clouds drift
Kaleidoscopic Colours ( Syllable Count Verse Poem)
Wild streams of rushing hues
daub black ink smudge skies
fireballing ambience
stuns night peepers dazed eyes
blazing forest scorched shades
mute charcoal moon’s deep cries
Alexa echo rocks ages of generations!
The species and genus
known as Homo sapiens
predominated across the webbed wide world
for tens of thousands of years
until many brain children teamed together,
(though nevertheless select individuals
such as Fred Flintstone and Barney Rubble
contributed, the initial vision
and much of the core technology
from Amazon's internal development efforts)
birthing Alexa Echo.
I got my hands on one
courtesy Bill Thurman,
a genuine bluebeard and outlier
of the rough and tumble sort
now residing at Highland Manor Apartments.
Norman the Worm Whisperer
An earthworm squirms, its fate unsure,
on pavement hot as soup du jure.
Norm comes upon it. “Little Noodle,”
he says, “you’ll bake like apple strudel.”
Norm sizes up the situation.
The worm’s at risk of dehydration.
“I could have squished it with my sandal,”
says Zip. “Far worse than being a vandal.”
“Yes,” says Norm, “you’d be a felon.
Good thing you didn’t! There’s no tellin’
what the annelid collective
would do to you as a corrective.”
He pulls his license out and slips
it under Noodle. Girlfriend Zip’s
Stupid Woman
Grass is a taut crew;
Grass is a taut crew;
They stand at attention
As soldiers do
With orders from the sun –
Never having thoughts
That their purpose is trite
Or any nagging doubts
Or need of strife.
How admirable their rank –
How exemplary their queue –
I whispered to one blade –
Living as they do.
A dream is a butterfly
A dream is a butterfly
Fresh from the cocoon
That is realized and soon
Flutters up into the sky
Or faltering, goes astray
Is suddenly killed
While young still
And fast fades away.
The Garden of Eden
Come and find me in this garden;
I know not where the hours go.
Palm fronds brush against my cheek –
Lone toadstool, blush of mallow.
They say this is the Garden of Eden –
Rocks of lichen, red yucca.
But I think this is probably heaven –
Birds-of-paradise and vinca.
You will find here a green shelter;
Shade fills the inner sanctuary.
Canaries whistle o'er yonder –
Dew drops on a banana leaf.
Let's be as kids like we once were;
Take my hand, let's go find its end.
On Havana's white shore –
On Havana's white shore –
With each salt-infused whirl
That agitates its border –
Every sand is a potential pearl.
Pagination
- Previous page
- Page 84
- Next page