Best Slinks Poems
The golden hope
Of brighter tomorrow
Slides into the salty ocean
No steam or bubbles
Just the crimson joy of the clouds
Escorting
With their shifting ochre tones
While fiery orange irradiates
The grateful atmosphere
Until slowly
Ever so slowly
Into the ripples of the horizon's haze
The queen of the daylight
Slinks
Then is gone
Her wispy train of colour
Vanishing
As the blue king of the night
Claims his place
And sits in the throne room
Of the speckled sky
~Sun Dancing~
Bright yellow sparks glisten around the landscape
Sheer environment expose
Warmth slinks down every step
So-- Invigorating
Spur-like rays muster in long light
The wolves wait to howl
Soon--Bunch of flowers
Huddle in with sunlit love
Luminous rave
By; pd
July Fog
Fog
Slinks in,
Cloaks dawn’s smile
In July gloom
With platinum gauze ~
A foggy summer breath
Glistens on rows of sweet corn,
Kisses the vegetable garden,
As crickets chirp and bumblebees hum
In misty tunes of foghorn rhapsodies.
At the fold of day
a veil shrouds the hills
as rising fog drifts
over tapering fields.
Rain falls softly,
dimpling the river.
It’s sombre waters swaggering
beneath a narrow bridge.
Rambling oak trees line
the steep grassy banks.
Ferns furl
their long slender fingers
into tight fists.
They recoil
into rooted mouldy stone.
Moss carpets the woodland,
the earthy air, damp
as dusk slinks in.
A murder of crows
sweep the sky
smothering the light.
Squabbling
they swoop to roost
on tall tree tops.
Settling,
a rustling murmur
whispers softly, sweetly.
They sleep
under a saffron moon.
silenced
by a blackening night.
Muscles locked in agony
Every ligament burning
Pain flooding nerve endings
Labor
Heavy panting of breath
Heart pumping trying to keep up
Behind the canopy of human perception
Life and Death dance
On her knees pushing
Two women holding her
A third with hands out
Down, down . . . blood, sweat
Water – tears
A tearing and a swoosh
A boy, cover in blood
Cries into the wind
Life laughs with delight
Rachel in a panting whisper
Ben-Oni – his n a m
e
Dies
Death – laughs defiantly
Echoes across this luscious valley
Livestock pause from eating
Shepherds watch
Jacob climbs Migal Eder
Grief cries fill the valley
*** 1000 years later ******
A small wiry man from Moresheth
Deeply troubled
Spoke about justice
The coming of doom
But also of hope
Micah climbs – Migal Eder
Watchtower of the flock
Cries -- “Daughter of Zion”
Listen . . .
“Daughter of Jerusalem”
Hear my words
“Bethlehem Ephrathah
Small among the mighty clans of Judah
From within you
A ruler over Israel – a shepherd
From the beginning of days
Of ancient time
The restorer of Peace”
***** 700 years later ******
Too many people
No rooms
Tired, frustrated, worried
The pain . . .
Life and death begin to dance
She yells
J-O-S--E---P---H !!!!!
In the distance
A tower
Fire
“Hang on Mary”
Almost there
Panting prayer- Y a h w e h!!!
Father of this great hurt!
P – L – E – A – S – E
Release your son – NOW!!
Down
Upon her knees
A depression of earth
A pair of hands
Pushing with all her might
Gritted teeth, white lips pressed wide
A tearing of maidenhood
A breaching of flesh – blood burst forth
Within the blood – an infant
Relief
Cool air – Life dances upon the breeze
Death shaken, slinks away
Breast, milk, a swaddling
A mother’s love
Under Migal Eder
Watchtower of the Flock
Resting in a manger
Across the valley
A bright light
Music – “Glory to God in the highest . . .”
A new shepherd
A paschal lamb
J E S U S
Live and Love Generously
David Meade
12/19/2016
Emma saw the light on that Sunday bright.
Her hands, they were folded, and knees bent right.
She smiles at the Pastor’s words.
The sun through the window stirred.
A slip up of epic proportions - quite!
Up front, in the center of congregants,
a holiness plagues, as the church does chant.
In sheer white she forgot slip.
Her blush is the shade of RIP.*
She slinks from her seat, in a hurried slant.
2/27/2021
Two Limericks - Let's have some Fun!
Sponsor Tania Kitchin
HMS 10/10/7/7/10 per verse
*RIP for Rest In Peace.
Quarantined
Waking up to this strange dream
First sight is the checkered ceiling
Then the antique bathroom mirror
I see old age and worried red eyes
I see another drawn day of breathing
My beard is out of control with grey
I am home now and not going out
I hear helicopters often in the sky
The morning time is escape time
The missus and me watch another one
Another end-of-the-world imitation
Just like ice milk; not the real thing
We sit and netflix the hours like sharks
Devouring phony time with no incisors
As with a glass vase holding heartbeats
We know dinner time is the best time
As another anxious nothing day slinks by
There will be kitchen trips for comforts
There will be basement sojourns for spirits
But no afternoon excursions to the shops
No possibility of even meeting stone statues
Inside this wooden box is where we must hide
Out of this window is as far as I can see
Listen
There is hopeful music in the distant rooms
There are praying voices behind the closed doors
In the chilly hours of the graying gloaming,
silent shivers rise from the estuary.
Just before the waves churn in frothy foaming,
Goddess Moon approaches Her adversary.
Sun slinks away at Her approaching homing,
slowly shedding His cloak as Luminary.
She reigns all through the darkened and leaden night
until stubborn Sun returns, anew and bright.
Your breath morphs into a November ghost,
a spectral mist that swiftly dissipates.
And barren trees lament the loss of leaves
as Autumn approaches where Winter waits.
The wind whistles through the twigs and branches,
rattling the bare bones of the naked trees,
and sings a soulful dirge for Autumn's dead
as rivers and the creeks begin to freeze.
Frost accumulates upon window panes,
creating frozen swirls of abstract art;
and dry leaves crunch and crackle underfoot
as rutting bucks clash, while Autumn snows start.
A spent sun slinks low in a teal-grey sky,
as Summer's late bloomers wither and die.
Baby birds cheeping in treetops high, mellow yellow,
Whippoorwills' song when even is nigh, red sunset glow,
Raucous crows in the hot noon sun, deep orange gold,
Humming bees in blazing wildflowers, dark green wold!
Seagulls' elegant glide over pounding surf, royal blue,
Crickets calling through a summer night, a black revue,
Loons hooting across transparent lake, twilight purple,
And cardinal chirps lonely songs, in pink crape myrtle!
Parrots squawk away the sunny hours, of forests green,
Nightingales sing forever and a day, white moonbeams,
Humming bird emblazons the peony bush, pretty pink,
Goldfinch trills on desert bush, as orange sun slinks!
octobre slinks forth
relinquishing heat-scorched earth ~
salacious summer
enflamed leaves embracing
dalliance with wilder winds ~
erotic fall tryst
hoary trees exposed
brazenly displayed bosom ~
scandalous winter
new bulbs gamboling
commoved carefree canoodling ~
warm sassy spring
Gardens of sea pebbles
glistening 'neath the moon,
shining their finest glow,
ride the tide as it slinks
away in ebbing flow.
Gardens of sea pebbles,
bright with seafloor colors,
mingle with calm sea life
that hug nocturnal shores
beside Poseidon's wife.
Gardens of sea pebbles
bead chains of jewelry
sparkling with waning waves
that cleanses their design
in gems that garner raves.
Gardens of sea pebbles
vibrant as the youthful
Goddess Aphrodite.
Exquisite adornments
gifted by Amphitrite.
It doesn't like to be given a name
or a shape to fit within its walls.
It prefers to hide beneath the camouflage
of noise and sits unmoved by pity,
stands to lift a downward pointing thumb
then slinks back into the anonymity of itself
leaving the dead to dissolve into their own.
A is for algae, red, green, blue cells, soaking up sun, sliming teeth
B is for bacterial mat, clumping underneath, earliest born, never asleep
C is for coral reef, the place we all find cover or the sand parrotfish chew and release
D is for diatom, all seeded calcium, all float free, all denizens barely seen
E is for eelgrass, nursery meadows of the anchovy, and other browsers of green
F is for fan worm, filter feeder like a flower, 8000 species on which fish feed
G is for giant kelp, floating on bladders of air they’re forests of cold waters clean
H is for helmet, the royalty of snails who protect our feet, queen, emperor, king
I is for isopod, the chameleon crustacean, they color match what they eat
J is for jellyball, or cannonball jellyfish, not upside down or moon, avoid their heat
K is for keyhole limpet, favorite food of ochre stars, will erect its own wall
L is for laver, the sea lettuce of nori, it swirls red skirt as ocean falls
M is for mermaid’s purse, the sack of the skate whose yolk keeps them alive
N is for nerite, the prisoner striped snail of the rocky zone as numerous as a hive
O is for oyster drills, the snails that slurp oysters and use them to lay eggs
P is for pleurobranch, a sea slug answer for oranges, with one active leg
Q is for quahog, the bivalve seaman who can survive eating the mud
R is for rove beetle, the one waiting to snatch the unwary beach hopper for good
S is for saxitoxin, those red tides produced by mating that can paralyze humans
T is for tubular sponge, they squish, bore and encrust as space lends
U is for urchin, those spiny skinned balls, no eyes or noses but dig food in sand
V is for Venus, Music Volutes dined or Vampire Squids skimming along land
W is for whelk, not the musically inclined, but the slow moving snail in a shell
X is for X and a half, the six rayed star, hungry for anything on the half shell
Y is for yucca, blooming on the beach, they bloom nice and tolerate the sand
Z is for Zostera marinara, the address of eel grass when they're feeling grand
All of this green life is what crunches, stinks, dries and slips underfoot
The rest that find the housing and dining compatible means someone’s on the look.
There is everything ugly about the little creepy snail
he delivers the slime scraping his foot. Maybe it’s his small,
pea size shrunken brain or those tiny eyes, or the way
he slinks on his flat foot that squirms underneath
his round tubular body with black eyes on the tips
of the long tentacles two, on his cold little head.
Two more short tentacles are upon the pointed head.
with the shorter pair for feeling around the park. The snail
has two long tentacles that hold his eyes on the tips.
At three years old they lay white eggs so white and small
which stick to them and are buried in the ground underneath.
Holes he digs to hide his body safely tucked away
from foes who know he’s tasty, so he goes on his way.
Piercing black eyes on top of his loathsome head,
s/he is a hermaphrodite with equipment underneath.
The shell reproduces itself, alone like other snails.
His radula is rough and grainy but still, a foot very small
with a row of tiny teeth which eats leaves on the tips.
If he falls over, struggling, his whole world tips.
Unfortunately he can’t get up having no legs anyway.
So what could be worse than to live life as a snail?
There are African snails who are 15 inches toe to head,
while the body is 2lbs of protein we boil and eat snails
who are harvested by hand in the ground underneath.
He flourishes as a pest in the dirty ground underneath.
The shell slimes along without instruction or tips.
What could be worse than to live life as a snail?
Destroying crops he eats root, stems and fruit on his way,
but if a dog eats the snail there’s death to his head.
A mythical figure and a symbol of deadly sin, so small
he has small dreams, but at church he generously tips,
with holy expectations, underneath he knows the way
to his heart and his head as a martyr enduring life as a snail.