Blades of grass, wet under foot, insect eyes
Dusk, offset by the cricket orchestra
Muted and receding into the trees and bushes,
Tickled by the wind, rattling snake tail wind
While we may be in the company of wolves,
A long legged friend is late for the party
Eyes, little iridescent stars
Attending to each one, and look there,
There she is, making the most beautiful geometry
Parallels within the octagons, pulling silks
An arm for every task, little perpetual motion machine
Is that the Queen of the Night under the rusted iron?
A forlorn lady, black patent leather, kill a man, maybe two
With her danger red symmetry, oozing with youth
And a penchant for paralysis, no one can resist her wine
Then there's the hall of cob webs, threadbare handkerchiefs
Left by ladies who exhausted all of their company
To be a spectacle under the moon, in the wood pile
Dressed up in the finest furs, all earth tones
Stepping out to introduce themselves in girlish droves
Venus of another sort, these little cursed jezebels
Hovering on the skin of the water, or on the red brick wall
Must frequent every happy corner, and slip away at a moment's notice
A real lady always knows when to say goodnight
Such graceful exits through cement cracks
Back to the parlor, to glow in the dark
And they become spiders again
The sweetest sounds of burning trees
A gentle stroking in the breeze
The calm has lasted past the storm
Cloudy visions, Satan’s roar
Too many sights have passed my way
A time found only in the haze
The softest screams are running bare
My aching bones creak as I stare
You walk a distance towards me
The fall’s eternal, can’t you see?
I’m a memory in your heart
I whisper to you in the dark
The battle’s started at the end
No one is coming to repent
The sinners grab their wine from prey
No judgment calling here to stay
The sport is reckless to be told
The one is laughing at his souls
It falters nowhere to be sure
The power grows forevermore
Like a spirit in the wind
I have no say in where you’ve been
But cross the line to come to me
And pay the price for ecstasy
You walk a distance towards me
The fall’s eternal, can’t you see?
I’m a memory in your heart
I whisper to you in the dark.
A predator among us.
A villian in our midst.
An entity of evil,
Clouding up our wits.
Preying on the innocent.
Devouring the strong.
A sycophant immortal.
Unbound by right and wrong.
White wool adorning
The curves of their form.
Cloven hooves dragging
on the ground with the worms.
No hoofprints behind them.
just the four toed paws
dotted at the tips
by their long and angry claws.
Nature is a cruel being.
Creating monsters in her storms.
No one understands
And everyone is torn.
The prey will always villify
those who are higher than they
on the food chains bottom
the sheep will always stay.
The wolves are meant to feed
without remourse consume
The psyches of the weak
to bring them to their doom.
The sheep will bleat and bellow
in fear of those wolves
And try to justify their blindness
by stamping hard their hooves.
Hiding in the herd,
the prey upon their back
the predators facade
turns their wool to black.
Such is natures way.
No one is at fault.
The circle of life.
The predators of thought.
For who can blame the hungry beast
for eating to survive
When you people create such feasts
And tantalize our eyes.
We can not feel guilty
for gaining our sustenance.
consider this my fealty
for i shall not repent.
My pet alligator sits under my feet.
He waits for food to fall while I simply eat.
He likes to chase the ball and bite with his sharp teeth.
His claws are super pointy, and he walks upon a leash.
He’s scaly without baths,
Smelly when not clean.
He’s very good at “sit,”
And trained to not be mean.
He likes the water much, except for when it rains.
And when we’re gone,
All day long,
We keep him in a crate.
My pet alligator is the best pet on this Earth,
I’d never trade him ever, for everything he’s worth.
THEY graze in beauty on the land
of grassy glades and dewy dales,
and all that's best of dark and tanned
meets in their aspect and their tails;
thus mellowed to that tender hand
which Shepherd to gentle glen compels.
One fleece the more, one hair the less,
had half repaired the shearless grace
which wreathes in every woolen tress
or darkly tightens o'er their face,
where mouths serenely sweet express
how pure, how dear their grazing-place.
And on that rump and o'er that round
so strong, so firm, yet elegant,
the baas that win, the hooves that bound,
but tell of days in meadows spent—
a flock at peace with all around,
a drove whose milk is innocent.
01/26/2014, "First Poem On Soup" Contest
As children are
They all want a pet
I wanted a horse
My little sister wanted a pony
Our parents compromised
They got us a goldfish
Of course we had to name our new pet
We compromised yet again and called him
Now turtle would spend hours and hours
Running and jumping around an around in his watery fields
A very fast Turtle he was
We decided to film our little turtle and so we did
The show off would make jokes and acrobats
Turns out he was a real comedian
(also an expert at cards, especially Go Fish)
To out surprise, an evil man didn’t like our wee turtle
Why he called him a darn little monkey
He said he would shatter our fish bowl
Well he called it a Monkey bowel
Then one day we saw something miraculous
A second gold fish
Turns out he was a she
Happily now my sister and I both had pets
She a wee little pony and me
A great big beautiful black stallion
She name her Pony Grasshopper
So worried she was, that the evil man from far away
Would do great harm to us, Grasshopper and Turtle
She said we should get on our pony and horse
And ride away on the ocean, far away and safe
Then all of a sudden, our neighbors Korean Siamese cat jumped
Right through the window, and right smack into the fish bowl
Poor Turtle and Grasshopper, all over the floor
My sister cried her little heart out that day
From that moment forward, I just could never get myself
To drink Orange crush again
I once was like a catipiller young,naive,and new
Always living from my heart not knowing what
else to do.Easy to take advantage of, that is
just the case, people would walk over me
like I was their dirty used up suitcase.
Now I feel a newness coming, like a light
shining from the sky, colors fill my world
and I know I am blooming into a butterfly.
Purple,Pink, Blue and Green I can feel them
flowing through. Colors of the rainbow raising
me into full bloom. Wise and strong I am becoming
My faith leads me where I need to go giving me
insight and wiseness for only me to know.
I have not done this on my own you see
I have been guided by God and Angels
on this Earth. Wise words the wisdom at
it's best comes from a wise lady who
seems to know me best. Lucky, I am
to have her in my life, she always shoots
it straight and tells me like it is, knowing
her words touch my heart and gives me tons of faith..
I feel like flying through the sky or climbing
a tree way up high. I feel like observing the
world just like a brand new butterfly so as I
Bloom I become Anew something unlike the past
Smart and wise beautiful on the inside and outside
a touch of color here a touch of color there
makes me glow and become a beautiful blooming butterfly...
Written By: Christina A McCullouch
A caterpillar ran along
my bedroom floor and rested there
my kitty cat mewed it a song
and up it sent a yearning stare
I picked it up, the crawling thing
all green and wobbly and naive
"my thorns beware because they sting"
I said and paused fearing he'd leave.
The kitty looked up from below
and shook my stem to make him fall
but he held fast and she lay low
then shivered as she heard me call:
"Darling," I said, "don't be so grim,
my rosy perfume is for you
as much as for your brother, dream,
for cats and worms I'll be a rose
prickly and motherly and true."
waiting scents of spring trek from long winter silence fawning sounds river deer - Note In a breathe this is not 5-7-5 but best I could do to get the double metaphors flowers fawns birth and sounds of frogs croaking- kajika frog
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!”
The seemingly tranquil sky
blooming with stars soon
pierced by a distant cry
that seems to swoon.
Beneath dense trees standing tall
to touch dark canvas painted
after dusk, prowls the epiphany of all
mother nature’s tainted.
The wise are often alone
and the dangerous hated,
but they express in moan
their solitude, once more grated.
Gradually their voices unite
in a song across the valley,
seeming to smite
all of innocence’s nest.
The moon in her splendour moves
to comfort the carnivores that commence,
and yet her beam soothes
not the beasts’ sense.
Torn between wrong and right
the moon spreads her swanlike wings amidst
the howls of her lovers, the kings of the night…
among the wolves in the mist.
A thick skinned
From stem to stern
A spineless weasel
A gutless worm
Most frightful germ
I fear that I have fallen prey
To such a one this very day
For I looked into the mirror to see
A Pachyderm staring back at me
In all of us
Time runs fast when we are young,
As fast as human eyes can blink.
Turn away and there it goes,
What youth we have will slowly sink.
It runs with legs that won’t tire
So that your aging heart may sleep.
Close your eyes and let it fall,
The fruits you’ve reaped are yours to keep.
Does the river dry when you
Have passed the rapids of this ride?
Open your eyes so you may see
The world you’re bound to on this tide.
Beckoning … beckoning is the night
In its ice blue grey and snow gold light
Beckoning … beckoning is the night
The swallow has long since whispered away
the cardinal and so too …blue jay
have strayed but now in the beckoning light
the beckoning …beckoning of the night
comes the sweeping and keeping
comes sweeping and keeping
in the night
The sky is still ….but wild edged with light
Bluish... high... tight ...grey
but the branches swirl and deeply breigh
beckoning…. they are beckoning
the night into night
Come wild and courageous into fading light
Tis just the beckoning beckoning…. of night
the sky dark blue does and does not ....betray
the coming… coming of end of day
and still it comes the end of day
with the beckoning ...comes beckoning
the…beckoning of night
The light is waning and so day’s might
beckoning as we bridge to night
the wild things move on stealthy flight
beckoning beckoning into night
The beckoning beckoning of the light
wild things shudder and take quick flight
The beckoning beckoning of the night
the wild things move and take to flight
When tomorrow's dawn will cast
@Ingrid Showalter Swift
White Tip, Red Coat/Alouette
Numbed, I sit alone
neither dish nor bone
to console me as a friend,
space and time confined
future now defined
by this leash - me at the end.
Length of tattered rope
freedom’s shortened hope
dulls the eyes and slows the tail
of low howling hounds
old familiar sounds
bugled scent of foxes trail.
White tipped red coat flash
chicken stealing dash
inflames the lust of instinct
foxes on the loose
chasing duck and goose
trails the scent of thieves distinct.
So I am set free
as the hound I be
maestro of fox hunt sounds
low and moaning bay
echoing in sway
to the dance of fox and hounds.
For Andrea Dietrich, A Lovely Alouette – Poetry Contest
My pet is an E.T. come from far outer space,
In that incredible green morning full of grace,
Ready to take compassion on uncomfortable race.
I mistook him for a vainglorious giant green ant,
Or a friendly, playful silver chameleon vagrant
In a strange green cage like an UFO, or a bright cube;
A changeable dark hollow sphere, ellipsoid or tube
Was his environment, where he felt incredibly free.
A fullerene as molecule composed entirely of C,
Might resemble his changeable colors and forms...
Coming from other world, he had different norms.
Like a tortoise or a snail with their long life shells,
He bore his genetic and civilization dowry`s codes,
And no hesitation in polishing them in many modes
Of significant recollections as invisible diamonds
In some allotropes forms with recordable sounds.
In their world, the injured ET always may complain
Regarding the rude restrictive rules to self maintain,
And too severely lathe`s and Lathes` laws to bind
A submissive or subversive aim of washing mind.
If many faces gambles have gained a grinder at hand,
Deceived by logic, or urged by mirror`s command,
Whatever transformation and simulation`s tidy tie,
The judging common world expects our constancy.
In his multi-dimension space, my pet`s only obsession`s
A shift character shows multitudes of points’ collections
By dragging a 0-dimensional object in some direction,
One obtains a 1-dimensional object and self-selection.
By dragging a 1-dimensional object in a new direction,
One obtains a 2-dimensional object as self-protection.
My ET pet is playing in his cube beyond the K-K project.
Indeed ,he could collect an (n + 1)-dimensional object
By dragging an n-dimensional object in a new direction.
In our world,this game seems to be a natural selection.
He lived upon the analogy that (n + 1)-dimensional balls
Have n dimensional boundaries, beyond the buckyballs...
If he he had wings ,could we put him in a modern hen coop?
Our world build this as a new loop-hole or as an alarming loop...
blown by the wind;
Lone and proud, soaring up high
Looking at you I understand why
You stay away and never come down
Why you`re a king without a crown
Made not to hold or to be held gently
Your look and touch are sharp, unfriendly
On earth you cause death, hurt and damage
But that`s how, to your maker, you pay homage
Your nature you can`t possibly deny
Every attempt made is hopeless, futile
You are avoided, feared, or even hated
Curious sentiments by ignorance created
Permit oh Ancient Outgrowth:
Aeons have you so waited
to see the sun penetrate
the stagnant, murky liquid.
Rise, fellow Leviathan,
holding the universe so.
Ferment the stagnant habit,
washing but all the crystals.
The pond disenables growth.
So dark, so deep, unspeakable
inability to further.
Such waters, hitherto, held our
hero tortoise, shell holding all.
It aged to form a carapace
of green and gold and crystalline.
Colosus amidst such haste.
Rising it will shake its crystals.
I wish to be like this monster.
So humble and so vaguely soft.
Holding all on my naked shell
so effortless: the kinetics.
So bright, yet opaque in the dark.
Mark how it moves.
Aeons of cryst'l
built upon one.
It looks upwards,
at the dimmed rays.
It knows I'm here.
in the vast deep.
into a shell.
Am I dessert butterfly?
My wings harden each time I fly,
Against the sandy winds;
So, might my wings shatter
From all contrary pressures that I duel with?
I know they might crack or shatter someday
From over-pressured sandstorms,
Like I a broken winged dessert butterfly...
Like a broken winged dessert butterfly,
A raindrop's kiss is what I need,
So that I revitalize
My hardened wings and heart...
Only when a raindrop kisses me,
My wings will regain their former splendor and grace;
So that I can fly on and on,
Disappearing through a rainbow...
Glowing eyes invade the darkness of the night.
A majestic hunter with prey in it's sights.
Slowly moving through the grass, as slient as an empty glass.
A creature with a sullen expression, embraking upon a hunting session.
It srikes from the shadows of the night; giving the prey little change of escape or fight.
A body full of warming fur and makes the sound of a meow or pur.
Pointy ears, thin legs and sharp claws; extending out from padded paws.
This cretaure wears a sumptuous looking coat always shiney and clean; walking with graceful posture like that of a ballroom scene.
It's younger form more playful and small, but soon will grow just as cunning and tall.
Masquerading as innocent family pets and balls of fur; hiding the true heart of a loin waiting to roar.
Some choose to live with families in thier home; well others like the nomadic people enjoy to roam.
Hedonistic in nature like Lord Henry from the story of Dorian grey, the cat hate's having it's pleasurable lifestyle taken away.
Roaming around night and day...... this creature of beauty is always on the hunt; for it's next prey....
Just like the Ouroboro
Just like the Ouroboro
We swallow our own tails
The I, it tries to eat the me
We’re not living in the now
Consciousness, and nature
The coin it has two sides
Yet they are both part of the whole
This cannot be denied.
We all throw nature to the wind
We think we’re separate
So we destroy this planet Earth
To be fools, is this our fate?
We humans, we are nature too
Why do we miss this truth?
As we destroy our planet earth
From nature stand aloof
So like the Ouraboro
We try to eat our tails
We want control, but when we try
Each time we’re doomed to fail
Cause life is transformation
Nothing does stand still
Yet still we try to eat our tails
And I guess we always will
The Ouroboro in Mythology is the misguided snake, who tries to eat his own tail….Peter
When describing bad behavior
Or even a law breaker
The worst epithet humans think for those not admirable
Is to place on the miscreant a label of ANIMAL
He's an ANIMAL they'll squeal
As if animal describes an inmate from hell
On this green earth after all the rantings and railings
Never was an animal who behaved with any human failings
How unlike a cat is this
slender dash of ink upon the page,
this pinch of print, this little line
of punctuation, adding
its mere millimetres of meaning,
black against white,
significant in its separation
of segments of the sentence,
imbuing words around it with a dab
of consequence or moment.
How like a printed dash
is my black cat,
stretched and stark against the sun-white concrete
of the distant yard baking below,
separating nothing but atoms of air,
significant only in herself –
a piece of furry punctuation
that tells us solely that it is,
and needs no function to perform.
By itself, it is of itself,
answerable to no one and to nothing –
except the rain, which has just arrived,
suddenly, in slapping, ponderous lumps,
to soak the stone page and darken it,
and drive her dash to drier quarters.
I do not know?
"When a self- centered animal cries it's considered weakness,
which necessarily isn't a bad thing .However,
when a soulful animal cries it's considered strength , which necessarily isn't a good thing. For the latter, Its like the stars in relation to the universe. They have witnessed the past present and future based on the weight of the ocean and the constant reminder of ones infinite sympathy and empathy"