Exceptionally tenebrous is this evening ceiling
One lit candle would be seen for miles appealing
That within the pitch-black, a snare is concealing
A minibeast with stinger at the caudal revealing
Bronze gazes could without effort hold anything
In the early morning, as the sun yawns and lets out her first light ray
two fishermen walk through the flooded bushes, searching for fish.
Inside cooler waters a silent lake says, " Take your time, take your time"
The sun slow at it's highest point drips with gold and continues to splay
while fish with their caudal fins and tails, kick forward into refreshing waters,
enjoying cool oxygen moments of grace, before the water gets too hot.
"Take your time, take your time" says the dawn
pink and purple, saffron yellow, with a touch of golden mellow.
Two buddies side by side, just like Abbott and Costello
catching fish and then releasing, into the undulated waves.
The sound of a female duck quacking in the distance,
followed by six mallard duckling babies, dark chocolate brown
with fuzzy yellow tails, wagging happily;
They appear to be saying, " take your time, take your time"
In the noon day sun an open tackle box and an empty thermos.
A passerby says " caught any fish yet?"
the fisherman smiles, not yet, they are just taking their time.
The Knight was knit on a knockout night.
A batch of bare bears within blissful sight.
Right rowed rode on rigorous royal insight.
Whither or wither, writ warned of a worn write.
Douse the drip and dowse to drum up dew.
Alas allowed the altar rite to alter aloud knew.
Wax warmer upon waves of aqua blue.
Caught in the caudle caudal circuit of one or two.
Halting hair like an idol, idle as a hush hare.
Hearsay's hollows handle heinous and flare.
Can a sane person seine in a water glare?
I fear that a note knob rejects the nob affair.
Leaches of joy leech open or open-free.
I will not feign the fane's favor as a feint fee.
Dazes detained the deal to droop a drupe as a flea.
If a blast blows a blue home, it finds a way to flee.
Written: October 09, 2022
Homophone Rhyme Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Hat Bueckert
His thoughts a noose round the neck
That betrays progress into better ray,
Prisoner self-chained to surreal wreck
Of diamond burdens beyond their say.
His pulses another swift drift away
From lanes of wit and clear sense;
Obstinate caudal slip in weird sway
Toward gaols well inevitable hence.
His bias-bankrupted soul's whims
Far defy practicality and her gists;
Tagging kettle black as old pot dims
In his eyes its erst death-dark twists.
His lobe preened to nab things null,
Throbs to tap vocular waves vacant
As shards of a myths-neutered skull;
More void and louder than airs want.
And his appetites stirred wild like tides
Over tempestuous seas wayward spill;
Milk's cream along filthy paths guides,
Honey's decoys his glances snare still.