The tarantula built
a web in the upper-left corner of my patio;
she weaved it perfectly as Antonio
rose on his wobbling feet to reach it.
That boy didn't know that
spiders get vicious and suddenly bite
when someone tries to grab them for spite,
and Antonio tried to pull it down with a tiny twig...
no, it didn't work, so he tried again with a long stick;
oh, once a garden spider got stuck into his mom's wig!
" Antonio, put it down,
before it crawls onto your skin! "
The spider will bite you on the cheek
and you'll be doing the Tarantula Dance! "
I yelled by taking the stick away from him with extreme force.
" No, I like that spider...that's the one I want to keep! "
He rebelled with a grin, transforming himself into a beast.
" OK, you can keep it, but remember spiders creep! "
I warned him and told him to wear a mask and just peak.
The tarantula built a web where rain or storms
never soaked it, and scorching sun rays
never melted it...how laborious she was in summer's long days!
We watched it going to and fro searching for food for her little one
as we took daily videos and had fun watching them!
After all, I realized that a spider is not dangerous...if left alone;
and Antonio kept his distance by warning other boys
that trying to catch a tarantula is a very dangerous game!
smoother than most, all moving no boast, shooting a moon to toast, to our beautiful host
revolving no doors, just opportunities score marking the entrance ways pores
fracking a lack of communication crashing breaking backs and racking our foundation
till were screaming take it back
unpacked and all out, dig deep for the fall out, kettle blackened from potty mouths,
busted missing a tea spout
pour me a gallon of chandon the whole sip for your front lawn, till the bottles dry
like jokes from monty python
silly satans salivating sighing and spraying your favorite simon's saying cause piles of money and ego feed are waiting for the generating
nothing new under the sun but above clouds I found me some, cause ignant bliss still exists even if you wear a cummerbund
tell all your facts and try to catch my glazed eye, cause compromise can be the do or die, to where ever future lovers lie
this blueberry from space ferry might fit in a test tube in perspective
or we just miss the point why evolution was so selective
Dramatic Verse (Verse Drama)
The wind blew events all over the place.
Intense emotions and it gave chase.
Lightning lighting to show us the sky.
People try to sleep and not cry.
Wisping by the wind keeps us awake.
The time trying to sleep the storms take.
Chills in everyone gives all shiver.
The clouds surrounded by moonlight is silver.
Heavenly prayers that the rain will stop.
The flood stopped a car the person in it was a cop.
People have seen such devastation.
The road that people made was week in creation.
Rivers near by was over flowing.
Trees that were there was not showing.
By the hour it claimed many.
My father woke up and did not see any.
Floating by was a boat.
Keeping people above water and a float.
My father kept a canoe.
That some day we would use it, that he knew.
Time to paddle up and down the street.
The rain water kept getting on our seat.
It was so dark after the moon was behind the cloud.
Still the noise of thunder still covered the ears loud.
The smell of moist water never seem to go away.
My brothers seem to still sleep anyway.
My head was bobbing up and down.
I was so tired that I could not hear a sound.
The wind blew back and fourth.
It seems that my mom and dad paddle their worth.
Till all the people we saw with grace.
Help us out with embrace.
The time was so late at night.
Everyone was so sleepy and losing sight.
The fight with the weather was so hectic.
The feelings of energy was electric.
Losing to such natural disaster is hard to understand.
When people working hard to block the river with bags of sand.
With hard workers like my mom and dad.
They make things happen that is not bad.
Rough with weather they experience more than ever.
Leaders they are they are very clever.
From the night light of street lights to the morning glow.
The wind did not stop so.
Bringing in more clouds that ill.
The people who were still tired still had will.
The rush of water and waves blasting push the wall side.
Pushing and the force brought water inside.
The battle of our hour was getting long.
Backup people came to aid us was strong.
Rested they were to keep everyone with hope.
The people stopped the water with the strength of rope.
Heavy rain and loss of homes bring people together.
It is kind of sad that this was the only time to gather.
Chaos comes happiness how true.
This is why we are human that gives us a clue.
It is our nature to keep rain falling.
To know when it is time for our calling.
The winds bring such pain and sorrow.
That is why rain sometimes fallow.
Ah, had I been much wiser
and taken mom more seriously,
I wouldn't have called her a miserable whiner!
I shiver remembering my behavior so bizarre and childish,
and quite often I got punished
for hanging out with kids who were too fresh.
Mother screamed as a maddened woman saying,
"Get back in here and finish your homework! "
I did not listen and ran out not to keep them waiting.
My grades got worse, and mom's face was got bitter,
I tried to tell her how sorry I was,
but words got stuck in my throat and I reached for air.
All privileges were taken away from me,
every effort to mend my mistakes was unsuccessful...
I was only given warnings up to three.
My wistfulness to please mom was denied,
she stopped wishing me goodnight,
I saw in me that unruly child who constantly lied.
The intention of that pursued wish always remained:
to hug her and ask for forgiveness,
and would I have been given another chance instead?
And that happened on Christmas Eve while unwrapping my undeserved gifts,
I stood up and embraced her with all my strength...
as the conscience's voice returned, " Doesn't foolishness cause regrets? "
In the woods of great greens and fast running streams are Trilliums growing in the late
Three white peddles with a hint of purple bloom, yet there are more colors where the
In the Forests and the woods floor, the Trilliums grow next to the great ferns of the great
Where everything drips with supple dew.
Everything is wet fresh and true.
The Johnny-Jump-ups came early this spring, nothing short of amazing are the sweet
Trilliums in bloom.
Awoke to the loud frogs croaking as if to remind one that spring is calling.
Then one could not sleep as the dew started falling.
There were once two girls that made a trip up on a hill every year at the same time.
Mayday was here and it was picking Trilliums in their prime.
If a May basket was not made in school, they would still pick large bouquets and surprise
their mom with them.
For those days are gone now and the girls have moved apart, but the memories of mom and
the Sweet Trilliums still warms this girls heart.
Copyright 2010 by Marymcshirley kilker
It was official. There would be no school today due to heavy snow. We heard it on the radio, during the early morning show, while Mom was preparing our breakfast. Mom sighed and dropped her head when it was announced while we danced with jubilation around the kitchen table shouting “No school today. We can play all day!!” Little did we know this excitement would be short-lived.
on a windowpane---
A hearty breakfast was followed by watching some cartoons. The rest of the morning was spent playing in our rooms. The weather outside deteriorated into the afternoon as our morning’s jubilant joy was soon depleted. Our longing to play outside was denied us and we found ourselves quickly bored. A day out or school was not meant to be stuck inside looking out at the falling snow…or so we deemed.
deep in the forest
collapsed limbs fungus rockbeds
natures own fury
Tribute To Nature
Even If She Is Mean LOL
I stumble upon a river
the way it flows and feels
I take my shoes off and run threw it
laughing looking up towards the sun
I wake up and it was all just a dream
my sister runs up the stairs
she slams her door
i asked her what was wrong
she looked at me
She says "mom told me you were adopted"
at first i laughed as i thought it was a joke
I run downstairs to see my mom and dad sitting on the couch
"mom?" i say
she replies "its true we adopted you!"
she got up and walked into the kitchen
"after all this time i thought i was yours" i say
My father gets up and walks out the door
My mom lays her hand on her forhead
Just dont worry about it everything will be okay
"No it wont i say"
i felt fake like i wasnt who i was suppose to be
i just sat on my bed thinking about the whole thing
my whole life and who i should have been
I packed my bags that light and i ran away
leaving the less important things behind
i set out on a journey to find my real parents
I had my sister get there info. from my dads office
I took a bus to indiana and looked up there address
As soon as i found it i knocked on the door
A man opened the door
he said "who are you?"
i say "apparently i am your son?!"
"you put me up for adoption?" i repeat
He yells "ANNA!?, Some kid is here for you!"
i repeat the story to her as she denied it
She looked bruised and beaten up
I wanted to help her but the man hut the door on my face
I had no where to go now
So i started on a journey back home
But i never made it there
I found that old river i use to go too
i stayed there for a few weeks until
i remembered the way back.
I found myself that day
I realized that i was fake but now im not because i know that i am just me not any of them
A mom kingfisher
Tried to catch a fish from pond
But dropped it at last!
A Day in the Sun
A good thought, a day in the sun,
such that allows joy to freely run,
**** the day blasts out memories fair.
**** Gentle breezes cruising bright air
**** as life sings on without a care.
**** A stir upon the lake down there,
**** two ducks dancing, O' what a pair
**** their art they very freely share.
**** Of our intrusion ducks so unaware
**** we watching silently not to scare.
Sweetest memories of family having fun
a fantastic break from life on the run!
Robert J. Lindley , 07-26-2014
The Duo-rhyme, a poetic form created by Mary L. Ports,
is a 10 or 12-line poem, with the first two and last two
lines having the same rhyme scheme, and the center of the
poem (lines #3 through #8 or #10) having their own
separate monorhyme scheme.