My Poetic Prose
Standing in my home’s backyard, gazed at the skies
No poetic prose jumped out, but two staring eyes
It swapped the branches of a tree by a daredevil jump
Whirling, twirling, passing in mid air, getting the hump.
All the summer on the tall tree bare and brown
See how the brown leaves are fluttering down
This squirrel, my poetry, bobbing from eyes so bright
Busy now hunting for nuts to hoard with all her might
In an old nest of crow or pie in a hole where day by day
Nut by nut for her winter store explores stores away
So that when winter comes with its cold and storm
She will sleep all curled up all snug and all warm.
She looks and again and again after storing there
So she could remember, she hid the treasure where.
Dr. Ram Mehta
Fifth Place win
Contest: Put Your Best Rhyme Forward by Just That Archaic Poet