I always liked the rain
It’s avant-garde disdain
Encased in every raindrop
Its tauntingly cold chill
Trickling off a drippy nose
Its million centipede dance steps
Puckering the dust, stirring the mud
The child like joy of running through puddles
Popsicle stick armadas attacked by giants
Mud pies with maple twig candles
I still enjoy the rain
Walk more slowly
Savoring its scent
The icy edge of its smile
Its tear like essence
Reminding me
That I now walk alone
Categories:
armadas, age, rain, youth,
Form: Free verse
An Autumn rain teases the roses
Splashes within cupped petals
Challenges the lone bumble bee
To pollinate the late bloomers
Chipmunks grapple with wet acorns
Leaf armadas ride the rapids
A lone goose questions its choice
Children know what the puddle’s for
October hides behind next Sunday
Readying its cornstalk mazes
Spicing up its pumpkin-ness
Adding its scents to Fall’s colors
Categories:
armadas, autumn, october,
Form: Verse
The Spanish had armadas;
the Americas, flotillas.
The Amazon has capybara;
the Andes has chinchillas.
Kentucky has its sassafras;
Madagascar has vanilla.
Napoleon lost at Waterloo;
Frazier, in Manila.
Will a person tell the Mexicans
how to pronounce tortilla?
Categories:
armadas, silly,
Form: Rhyme
I'm playing seafaring games on the marble table,
sketching between the blue striations of the stone,
a slab that resembles an ocean to my young mind.
I draw armadas and stick figure Spaniards,
foes that fall into shark-infested waters. Cannons roar silently.
Mum is at the sink drinking. Soon dad will be home,
he will bring with him, two magazines; a ‘Woman's Own’
and the ‘T.V. Times’. He'll have a bottle of sherry for mum,
a ‘Mars Bar’ and a Superman comic for me.
Clock hands crawl nearer. It seems that the terraced house
trembles, slightly at first, but gradually the shaking
gets so I can hardly stay on the stool. I have to hold tight
to the table. Oceans tip over. High waves slosh back and forth
in my mind.
My own stick-figure shudders, teeth chattering together.
My mouth begins to mew like a seagull. Mum looks around,
yells for me to stop -
I can't it's 6.30 P.M. on any Friday, and for a while
we all will be together in this one rocky boat.
~~
Categories:
armadas, poetry,
Form: Free verse
Summer clouds
cross blue skies
Slow, like the armadas
of days gone by
Categories:
armadas, nostalgia,
Form: Imagism
When moonbeams dance upon the placid sea;
When billowing waves seethe endlessly;
I ponder what secrets the sea might yield,
Should its ageless mysteries be revealed!
Are there unknown monsters lurking in the deep?
Might it divulge where ancient mariners sleep?
Where rest fleets of sailing ships with holds of gold?
Are there seething volcanoes, disasters waiting to unfold?
Where lie armadas sunk in conflict due to mankind's folly,
Sunk in mighty battles with cannons' fearsome volley?
Although the inscrutable sea will not confide in me,
I can still meditate upon closely held secrets of the sea!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
Categories:
armadas, sea,
Form: Rhyme
What words be there spoken that have yet to be questioned....
Soliloquy; and why do I waste anothers time trying to awaken the dusk
As it holds tightly unto armadas, amissive dawn; and how long this mirrors
Death lay upon tomorrows bed waiting for a yesterday that has come and gone???
With shadowed silhouettes tearing pages from a book; never was it written....
Crying amid the caverns of times illusive silence such as a ghost
Trapped about their columbine castles which fell from the sky to shatter
Abstract dreams that washed from these eyes and why do they wait a dawn
Betwixt tears that shall only shackle tomorrow as though it were not....
And what words be there spoken that have yet to be questioned in arcanes
Inane; why do I waste anothers time trying to awaken this dusk aneath
Shadowed silhouettes tearing pages from a book, never to be written
In illusives dreams; as death lay upon tomorrows bed waiting for a yesterdays....
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
...."Ghost, Amid Their Castles of The Sky” *
Categories:
armadas, hope, life, love, words,
Form: I do not know?
Such a colorful bird so pleasing to the sight.
You gathered in huge flocks as armadas in flight.
Massive groupings enough to eclipse the sun’s light,
countless millions living two centuries ago,
with numbers that once would rapidly grow.
You were successful as a species would go.
Your flying is a sighting I will never know.
As many conservationists would plead,
you were hapless victims of insurmountable greed.
Killed in quantities that would often succeed
large amounts surpassing sustenance need.
The story of your extinction is hard to believe.
How quickly it happened is difficult to conceive.
Categories:
armadas, animals, death, loss,
Form: Rhyme