Sun glints off ripples
Play of light in sheltered cove
Backyard full of stars
Footsteps crack on frozen grass
Forested mountain side
Above twisting single track
Over arid land
Falling rain evaporates
Hot Aussie dunny
Sandy beach stretches
Tropical coral waters
Beneath St. Paul’s dome
Lies manicured garden
Copyright © scott thirtyseven | Year Posted 2014
giving endless supply . . .
bright sun, blue sky
beauties for the eye
bird and butterfly
fields of wild rye
in soft winds sigh
and foxes sly
preying hawk's wild cry
on eye and ear sweetly lie
all of nature's works comply
until I hear you sigh
our whole walk gone awry
feet covered in cow pie
October 9, 2014
Copyright © Faye Gibson | Year Posted 2014
Twelve tree frogs sing in loud chorus
on this damp, foggy morn
Their vocal would break the sound barrier
By it nature is torn
Fog caresses the valley
Settles loosely on trees
Exaggerates the silhouettes
Moistens all the leaves
The frogs have removed the silence
Their din walks on nerves
They need another residence
Where they won't be heard
Ship them to another planet
Box them up in damp wrap
Let them start a new settlement
Send them, get them trapped
My prayer for rain was answered
This morn is nice and cool
The frogs loved it also, singing
To God their thanks refueled
For a moment I was ungrateful
The constant din distrubed
Now I am accepting of the sound
Let them sing unpreturbed
The tree frogs or rain frogs came out
in wild excitement last night following the rain..
Sponsor: Elly Wouterse
Contest: A Positive Poem
Written: Tuesday, June 24, 2014
Copyright © Sara Kendrick | Year Posted 2014
A void of Facebook
Creativity dies here...
Copyright © Dan Keir | Year Posted 2013
Looking out the barn door in our back yard
I watched a deer run through our cow field,
acting like cow pies were mine fields.
He appeared not to like cows
and seemed to plug his nose
by lifting fat lips
to block nostrils
for this fine beast.
He kept on running
lips flapping in the air
making funny bubbly sounds,
purposely or not, I'm not sure
But one thing I do know for certain.
This was the strangest deer I've ever seen.
Written by Brenda Meier-Hans
For Shadow Hamilton's Contest
Double Reverse Etheree
Copyright © Brenda Meier-Hans | Year Posted 2014
Once was a gal who felt so alone
Tornato came up rooted farms home
Landed on wicked witch
Munchkins came out of ditch
Gave dog lollypops instead of bone
Copyright © Katherine Stella | Year Posted 2013
Beauty of nature
Why condense it down to God?
Isn’t life enough?
Copyright © Dan Keir | Year Posted 2013
If yer one and only wish is to catch one really big fish,
Then ya need ta stop bait'n fer minners.
If you'd read my first book you'd use a big hook,
An'a bait big n'uf fer yer dinners.
It might take ye' awhile, but if fishin's yer style,
Ya might catch 'im with one week 'o fishin'.
It's well worth the wait when a hawg takes yer bait,
An' th' catch is as big as yer wishin'!
Copyright © Ray Dillard | Year Posted 2013
Dragon was watching the nature channel, and decided that…
Communing with nature, is where, IT must really… be at!
He wanted to know: What nature is. What part is he? Is he more than that?
You’d think he’d start at home, but NO! He went to the park, of course!
The park with it’s mowed lawns, and yes, where the pigeons are, in force!
He ran to an elderly man, feeding pigeons, from a bag, on a bench, of course.
The answer: we’re all part of nature, just nature prime, cause we’re smarter.
Each one’s unique, walk in others shoes, and the answers are there to garner.
Either, he didn't know the trouble he’d stir, or wanted a new story this week.
I glimpsed a paparazzi camera, partially concealed, that he did quickly seek.
Dragon immediately chose the pigeons, and I knew this wouldn't be good.
Especially, when a wild pack of paparazzi suddenly and very quickly stood.
He picked pigeons, cause they fly like him and are slow at getting away.
Plus he’s banned from the Nature Area, after his flames burned it one day.
First he followed the pigeons and checked out everything they did eat.
He wasn't too impressed as breadcrumbs and birdseed were their treats.
Then they flew to the 5-tiered fountain for a splash and feather bath, today.
But they had to leave when Dragon joined them, toppling it clear away.
The commotion took them to tree limbs, that broke under Dragons’ weight.
The park benches fared much better, as they toppled backwards, I must say.
The bronze statue looked more hopeful, till the Park Sheriff came his way.
The Sheriff of Crazyland fussed and shouted, till they all flew quickly off.
But now, Dragon had perfected the pigeon technique: of drop a load and fly.
It as a shame the Sheriff of Crazyland, was waving and shouting so close by.
Gee! I never knew, that the Sheriff could blow steam, like our Dragon can.
Tho, apparently, Dragons’ is much hotter as the statue arm, melted and ran.
But Dragon complimented him on his steam anyway, as he deftly flew away.
I just stood there and shook my head… as there was going to be heck to pay!
Now… you know why the Sheriff and Dragon simply will never get along.
For the Sheriff has now made it possible for Dragon to commune with...
‘The New Leash Law’.
Copyright © Carol Eastman | Year Posted 2014
You're on my doorstep
You want a family pic?
Got any mice—rats?
Copyright © Paul Geiger | Year Posted 2014
Burying dead bodies usually takes place
In fancy holes dug on some land space.
Most people dig those holes somewhere nice
But sometimes they don’t have a choice.
Some people burn dead bodies to ashes
And this really saves on available land spaces.
Sometimes dead bodies are buried at sea
And slowly sink into muck for eternity.
Other fancy holes are dug large enough,
For the removal of some valuable stuff.
Sometimes these holes are dug somewhere nice
And most times people don’t have a choice.
When all the valuable stuff’s gone offshore
The hole is back-filled and land space restored.
Today we can dig holes in the seafloor
Right through the eternal muck and more.
Holes should be dug to bury the dead
And to remove valuable stuff instead.
Copyright © Michael Dom | Year Posted 2013
Am I Nuts?
Chestnuts don’t grow on chests
Walnuts don’t grow on walls
Peanuts don’t come from peas
Cashews come from the fruit on trees
Pecans don’t come from peacock feathers
Pistachios fall from Pinocchio’s nose
Hazelnuts relax in the hazy sun
Macadamias are MacDonald’s big Mac nuts
Almonds are singing nuts, called the Almond Brothers
Acorns come from the unicorns tusk
Nuts are nature’s ways of making sure
We all have a little fun
The biggest nut there ever was
Surely you can see
Is the Nutty Arthur Vaso
Whom wrote these verses three
Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2015
Wrinkle, wrinkle on my face…
Couldn't you have found some other place ?
What made you furrow between my eyes ?
And all those creams, they are nothing but lies….
When I look in the mirror, all I can see…
Is a silver haired person staring back at me….
Then there are the lines , which run down the sides of my nose…
Running in circles, round my lips, down my neck and into my clothes….
Speaking of clothes , isn’t that where the wrinkles should be ?
Is nature playing a trick on me ?
Or is this a sign “ old “ is sneaking up on me ?
It seems only yesterday I was a young girl .. and had my whole life ahead of me…
So simple..so free……
Which don’t take me wrong I have enjoyed my life’s ride…
And there isn’t much in my life, I haven’t tried….
But it should would be nice if I could just see…
Myself with one less wrinkle…when I looked back at me…..
Copyright © kj force | Year Posted 2013
‘Do you like Pigeons Dad’
“They’re scummy things
They’re Rats with wings
They’re vermin of the sky”
‘That can’t be right Dad’
“They pilfer seed
They breed at speed
And harbour disease you know”
‘Are you sure dad’
“Since the Rock Pigeon flew
And ended up in a stew
Since their domestication by men”
‘But I like Pigeons Dad’
‘I like how they sing
I like the shape of their wing
So you should like them too’
“But I don’t like Pigeons Son.
Their walk is bizarre,
They crap on my car
And they’re really not that clever”
...they wake me in the morning,
With their delightful coo,
Their plumage is wonderful - an iridescent blue.
They look good in the garden Dad
They don’t make such a mess
Do you like Pigeons Dad?’
[This poem was the result of being asked this question many, many, many times by my son. My son is on the autistic spectrum - he has Asperger's Syndrome to give the official diagnosis. He is a lovely human being & I love him dearly. But one of his most irritating traits, is the fact that he asks the same questions continuously all day every day. No matter how you respond, the same question will be posed minutes later. Currently and for at least the last 2 to 3 years: 'Do you like pigeons daddy?' is his favourite/most frequently asked question. Now that you know that, perhaps you can really feel the exasperation in that final ..."Yes"]
Copyright © David Sollis | Year Posted 2013
It is hard to foul air
in a sleeping bear's lair.
Copyright © Volodymyr Knyr | Year Posted 2014
One hand on my britches keeps them from falling down
One hand on my cane, which keeps me off the ground
I know a solution must be found, I can’t decide just what kind
I’ve been analyzing the situation; but it rather puzzles my mind
Could be gravity tugging on them that has them in such a rush
Or is it my belly hanging out there that has given them a push
Now I know I was looking for something; I guess I’ll just look around
I am hoping that I will know it whenever it is found
I believe that I was headed out for somewhere
But must find my jacket; nothing else fit to wear
I certainly have my hands full, as anyone can see
I know that I have to get going; but damn, now I have to pee
Copyright © Donald J Bennett | Year Posted 2012
As I watched the rain pouring into the drain
I reflected on just how perverse
Was the Summer we had, with the weather so bad,
And the future can only get worse.
Now that Autumn is here, bringing with it some fear
Since the drains are blocked up with leaves
Which are crimson and yellow, so pretty, so mellow,
And they're also blocking the eaves.
As the weather gets colder, the leaves get older,
Black and dirty, and now..here's the thing!
The council won't clear it and therefore I fear it
Will leaf us at risk till the Spring.
Copyright © Elisabeth Sheaffer | Year Posted 2014
De Andy Lee (part one)
Talks about the little Lady Lee and me,
It all started at the first flight
Our adventure had an origin---
From Off-ego was where we met
So dazzling was her beauty that
Caught my eyes at first sight
And unresisting, my passion wooed along
Believe me, my eyes contended and my heart clamored
Though my lips stuttered
Deep down inside me was stamina within
Whispering “You can do it, yes, you can”
As I opened my eyes, unknowingly, I’d reached for Lee’s hands
“Hi pretty damsel… as anyone ever told… you…‘re charming”
Perhaps this was a poor pick up line
But she smiled anyway and then freed herself away
Like a butterfly hovered from my hands.
Not so long, Terry, a neighbor from Long-town
Knocked at my door, walked himself in as I consented
And handed me a postal, “thank you Terry”, I said
While I thought through who might mail me this
Piece on my palm which I was about to cut exposed
Alas a nightmare-like knocks from the dark
I (already) left my door ajar
“You help yourself in please” I utter’d as expected
“Good day sir, I’m Dandy. There is a lady waiting for you outside
She said are name is Lee De Lee”
Agape! “It must have been that lady from Off-ego,
Yes she’d seized my throat already. I think, my previous
Chat with her there was not bad after all”
Walked myself out with one of my finest attires
Dandy took me to that spot she picked him for me and left
Me, only me wandering and wallowing nervously in the chilly clouds
“Hail Mary, hope I guess right… and where is little Lee De Lee?”
I soliloquized… and as Heaven helped me,
She appeared and approached
“My apology for keeping you waiting Mr Handsome,
May be you did wow me like you did other ladies or not
But my question is this… Will you love me like
You never have loved any other lady in this city?”
Though puzzled me but “I must top this chat” I assured
“Not only love will I give, but all for our short courtship
And the thereafter long and everlasting wedlock”
I could see from her face, expressions said to say
‘Another clever words from your sweet mouth’
But lo she opted for most sensitive part of me,
Which could be very vulnerable sometimes
“What did you say that your sweet name is… Handsome?”
There I unveiled my name, which is Agape-
“A-G-A-P-E, yes, pronounced Aa-gaa-pey from On-town” I said….
Copyright © Abdulhafeez Oyewole | Year Posted 2014
sporadic chimes -
an invisible man
knocks at my door
Copyright © Timothy Hicks | Year Posted 2014
*ai: 3-toed sloth (slow moving animal) from South America (pronounce: "ah'-I")
sloth: slow/lazy person; etc
[Also: "A. I." = Artificial Intelligence is the intelligence of machines and robots and the branch of computer science that aims to create it.]
queue: people (for eg) standing in line; etc
"I. Q.": Intelligence Quotient
KEY: I Q
Copyright © Suzette Richards | Year Posted 2013
Oh lonely Inevitable Bear,
Padding claws, death in white
Sorrow in recurring nightmare
Instinct’s test; fight or flight?
Camouflage against the fence,
A challenge; my subconscious fear
Ominous slowly moving silence,
“Let me in, there’s a bear out here!”
Copyright © Dan Keir | Year Posted 2013
Mother Nature, her bounty abounds
Spreading seed all across the ground
Through animals and ingenious ways
Through birds and even people at play.
As man his seed he also determines to spread
Be it is in a field, up an alley, in a warm bed.
Spreading his seed over here and over there
Spreading his seed almost everywhere.
In competition with the mother of birth
His seed he scatters all over the earth
Mother Nature the giver and taker of life
Man the giver of children and giver of strife.
Seeds of different shapes and sizes
Seeds that germinate and give us surprises
Man the giver or surprises and seed
He learnt how to spread it when he felt a need.
To spread his seed like the proverbial waterfall
Man thinks it’s his duty to spread it with all
But bless all the men that spread their seed all around
Just be careful where you spread it and where it is found.
Found in the wrong bed
it may cause a fuss
So keep your seed in a packet
lets say-just because...
© ~GG~ 16/02/2013
Copyright © Mandy Tams The Golden Girl | Year Posted 2013
The wild berries of the Northwest
it seems every path you walk on , they are there for you to sample ,
Almost as The city of Portland itself is welcoming you with astonishing beauty, the view of a snow tipped Volcano , as if greeting you with a basket full of fresh wild Marion berries
The beauty, just picked plump , the color of dark purple
a fragrance to savor , what will I do ?
will I make a pie or preserves ?
Oh the pancakes and waffles , the Tillamook ice cream is a must ~
After rinsing the fresh picked Berries with water and dusting them with fine Sugar , a hint of cinnamon , if pie , waffle , or cake . maybe just plain ,
serve with whipped cream made from scratch and a leaf of mint .
The Salmon , the berries , roses and apples all in the Great Northwest ,
You may visit however be warned , for many have come this way
Many have travelled a far ,
For the great Spirit of This Northwest will encompass and astound you .
Begging your soul to stay and live the way of a Portlander .
Give me rain I say , for the green here will blind you, it is
like walking off the black and white set of Wizard of Oz,
and opening the amazing door to Colors .
Copyright © Shanity Rain | Year Posted 2013
I was walking in the countryside with my two best friends
We didn't see the tractor that was coming round the bend
The farmer was spreading liquid manure and it sure did stink
He meant to turn the spreader off but he did not think.
The solution had a stench of ammonia mixed with poo
It absolutely coated me but it missed the other two
They are crying with laughing at my misfortune
But when I drive them home they will change their tune.
Darren wants to drive us home, oh boy there is a smell
Shame the car has leather seats, to clean them will be hell
I get Jenny to sit in the front next to my handsome man
She’s lucky the car has air con and is sitting next to the fan
I sit on the back seat with my hand covering my nose
Wish I was in Darren's garden I’d prefer to smell a purple rose
Jenny is quite happy she’s got her hand on Darren’s knee
I tell her to remove it - he’s MY man and I can see
We drop Jenny home so it’s now just Darren and me
He’s off to have a shower or share a bath tee hee hee
6th July 2014-07-06
Written by JADAZZLE ~ Jan Allison & Darren Watson
Copyright © JADAZZLE UNITED | Year Posted 2014
The English weather:
Rainclouds follow us from home
There is no escape.
Copyright © Dan Keir | Year Posted 2013
I am a party animal, my heritage is mixed
quite content to lounge about when conditions remain fixed.
Suppose that’s the nobility which Krypton must provide,
maintaining stiff upper lip when I’m all buzzed inside.
Then too, I’m mostly nitrogen, which is very stable,
tamping volatility of oxygen: it’s able
to combine with hydrogen (that’s also in my make up).
Uncontrolled? Oh that would lead to an explosive break up.
Carbon Dioxide? Its percentage varies night and day:
vegetative respiration, or so the boffins say.
I wonder why I don’t glow multicoloured in a storm:
my neon, argon, radon being Vegas lighting norm.
If I had more Helium the humans would sound squeaky.
I imagine the attraction of that chap Enrique
Would suffer greatly from affliction. He’d become mundane,
and prove downright offensive if I gave him more methane.
I’ve also Nitrogen Oxide, not Nitrous NO2,
and a soupçon of ozone which had once protected you
from harmful rays from Out There much more than now is measured.
It seems that humans cannot see what really should be treasured.
I’m moved by friction of the Earth and pressure off the bat
while Coriolis effect pushes me this way and that:
north and south of the equator, the opposite I spin.
Any other speculations, my friends, are simply wind.
Copyright © Perry McDaid | Year Posted 2014
Twinkling little elephant toes
Prancing through the Garden Of Woes,
With his long dainty nose.
"Good morning to you",
says a cute butterfly.
With cheeks glowing pink
The mammoth creature whispers, "Hi".
Turning from pink
To bright crimson red,
He bats his lashes
And hides his head.
As the butterfly turns
And flutters away,
The prancing little elephant
Continues to play.
I realize then
That it's time for bed.
Cuz, the dancing pink elephant
Is all in my head!
Copyright © Tracy Martin | Year Posted 2013
I'm in a crowded place.
Others brush my limbs.
We look so much the same.
I easily fit in.
No one knows my name.
I am one of them.
Firry and firm.
A little junk in the trunk.
Wispy and thin,
I blow with the breeze.
I'm a little shady,
but stay if you please
as long as you'd like.
I've no teeth to bite.
If you come closer I won't walk away.
I've no legs to go.
I'm here every day.
The great outdoors is where I sleep.
They're all I've known.
My roots are deep.
This crowded forest is my home.
By: Juliet Ligon
Copyright © Juliet Ligon | Year Posted 2014
We are truly blessed with splendid scenery in this great nation,
Overwhelmin' our senses with awe and inspiration!
Visitors to such places may view them with differin' perception,
And the spectacular Grand Canyon is certainly no exception!
A preacher, for example, might fall upon his knees in exaltation,
Praisin' and glorifyin' The Lord for His magnificent Creation!
He'll be inspired to concoct a sermon for his languid congregation,
That'll bring them leapin' from their pews in rousin' exultation!
The artist, no doubt, will view it with a practiced eye and gush,
About the masterpiece he'll create with his paint and brush .
As he critically eyeballs the colorful vista so breathtakin',
He'll exclaim, "Tis a marvelous canvas in the makin'!"
The contemplative poet will ponder the scene and then,
Create volumes of flowin' verse from his prolific pen!
The musician becomes emotional standin' on the high plateau,
Hearin' a symphony as the waters flow on the watercourse below!
An old cowpoke might marvel at the scene and scratch his brow,
Sayin' to no one in particular, "One helluva place to lose a cow!"
From the rocky coast of Maine to the San Diego Bay,
Ain't no two people gonna see things in the very same way!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) All Rights Reserved
Entry for PD's "7 Wonders of the Ancient or New World"
Copyright © Robert L. Hinshaw | Year Posted 2013
Oh hairy, striped, hungry worm;
It's your business your about.
By fall you'll be a fluttering moth,
Once you've turned inside out.
Until then sit and rest awhile,
Upon that shady bush.
Your time on earth is brief you know:
So what's your great, big rush?
Oh striped, sleek, prolific worm;
Some folks dislike you so.
Revulsion's only kept at bay,
In the season of the snow.
You'll start to show your hairy self,
Just past the month of May.
And fascinate us for a spell,
While rippling on your way.
The summer months are filled with crunch,
As you eat your way toward fall.
Most leaves upon the trees have holes,
Their proof you've come to call.
Late fall draws near; bugs disappear,
And with them . . so goes you.
But come the spring your kids appear,
As sure as winter's flu.
Copyright © Diane Lefebvre | Year Posted 2015