John Lawless Poet Blank verse

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Frozen pants dance stiffly
to the mad beat of sapless
drumsticks choreographed
by a wicked whimsy of the
winds baton.  Birds cling
tightly knowing that if the
gale subsides for but a moment
they will fall over, be blown
like feathered fur balls on
lone unchartered trips.  Cats
hiss in meek response to
whistling whine of wind’s
failed grasping at the trees.
Children pick up speed as
parents chase them through
the cyclones of debris
quick swept by nature’s
crazed custodian.  Hats,
hang glide in mocking
merriment above the tousled
heads of their former captors.
Skirts balloon Monroe like,
fashion’s flair taking on airs.
Trash can  covers play Frisbee,
as barrels beat steel drum staccato.
This wind, this rush of Winter
clearing the table, cleansing its palate,
preparing us for the next course.


John G. Lawless
1/25/2014

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Andrea Dietrich February 6, 2014 at 3:21 PM john, you said you would like to see the other four sonnets in front of mine. Go to the blog on crown sonnets and you can read them. Mine did not get through. The judge Debs preferred the one that is at the blog. She thought it was too much fantasy to have my hero killing a wounded bear with a knife and skinning him in the woods. All the sonnets of the crown over there make a nice story if you like hunting.

Andrea Dietrich February 3, 2014 at 7:26 PM this is outstanding imagery for wind!! Wow, what a great poem. I will fave this gem.