still stands on solid ribs
My love once looked at me
that way
I call you home
even where crooked angles
fight for space
against contesting cobwebs
The neighbors walk
golden retrievers,
but I do not know their names
There is love in one of the rooms
one room away from me
where pictures escape their frames
and jump at new opportunity
I cannot
hold onto anything
that will anchor in mud
These stairs are sinking
There is blue and green
and skylight
one room away
I hear the mockingbirds
chittering for joy
where colors mate for life
The unsentimental earth
holds it all down
closer than kissing
and a shared bed
That love knew such
continuity
when the weight of it
mattered most
Our world erased in the blink of an eye,
every song and our periwinkle sky gone.
Fixated on the past our future is lost
left to rot in the void of deleted files.
Every song and our periwinkle sky gone,
it is imperative we take the power back.
The implications cannot be ignored.
Fixated on the past our future is lost,
involuntary chittering a sneak preview.
Drowned and bitter within our humanity.
Left to rot in the void of deleted files.
rage against the machine with a beat.
Can you hear the timer’s countdown?
All is burning, cinders and ash
flakes float in black rain,
falling on a ground
of clinkers and flinders.
The hand of ruin traces sigils
of chaos and strife
on broken city walls,
within which rats awaken
They are the true rulers of destruction,
living cloaked with shadows,
in any crevice or crack,
hunting bones and burnt flesh.
Their rivals, jet-black birds,
massing on heights above
in their murders
and raucous unkindness'.
After Ragnarök, the still silence
is broken by the raspy flutter
of a million wings,
echoed chittering of uncountable hordes.
What life is left
does not weep.
Giorgio rode his red Ducati to climb a mountain
without a helmet to protect the fragile brain
from damage, then all sirens started wailing
as if an earthquake or a hurricane were coming!
" They won't catch me because cars
can't ride mountains or steep hills,
they get stuck in between rocks."
A large crowd gathered below, they yelled,
" Don't crash into big trees and break your neck like Bill did;
your dad is furious about the terrifying news and brandishes
a leather belt. Cops get out of patrol cars but soon realize,
climbing will give them a heart attack and called it quits!
Riding without a helmet may cost a precious life anytime,
use your noodle: motorcycles are more dangerous than cars;
I've seen dead bodies across highways to be replaced by crosses,
don't be the next victim and be listed in the obituary of the Enquire.
Giorgio found his hiding place in a small cave,
where fat, chittering rats roamed and snakes chased them for food;
he shivered and called his mom, she never came
to rescue him: his fear was worse than wrestling an enemy in a feud!
• Some nights when I lie in bed
• I hear little voices chittering in my head
• Some mornings when I'm singing a song
• The voices would proceed to sing along
on crenshaw
carousing in cavernous cafes
slicing into earthen skin
the meat dancers bring it to a boil
they murder the rug
they scrounge for earth worms
the fish head girls bob like sea birds
telephoning purple mermaids for a date
they have no name tags and no flowers
they sing sad madrigals to the starfish
they know this is the last pavane
the final curtsy before night goes down
before morning arises under white sheets
loosening the brain screws
burning the instruction manuals
imbibing the nylon remonstrations
on crenshaw
a lonely woman croons
an oozing torch song to the dirt people
they sit erect in a dark morgue
chittering like insects
singing cool blues music to the meat dancers
they bring it to a boil
with burgers bullets and beef cake
genius guitar freak vivisects clawing time
he twangs his axe with a searing solo
he plays psychedelic lullabies to the dead
his music torturing the earth worms
Some days I want to be a star
or a diamond or a diamond back snake
or a cottonmouth or a cottonwood tree
other days I want to be a squirrel
chattering and chittering as I chase my friends
around the elm tree, over the stump, under the bridge
Today I want to be a garden hose
Possibly because it is over one hundred degrees here.
The chittering Crickets were hidden deep, ‘neath fairytale canopy of Dead Nettle & Chickweed,
There the Bee hums over their tiny forest, a dancer of Meadow’s flower,
Grace between Comfrey & Dandelion, then lost at last they dangling cling,
To the Snake’s bowed sunlit head, for the rare nectar of Fritillary’s sweetly hidden face…
by D.N. Read2024©?
Once a thriving town now
dust devils
curl and tumble on the
broken pavement, along
with swirling leaves and
bits of paper
empty storefront windows
once FILLED with clothes,
pastries groceries sundries,
stare at the desolate scene
through shattered glass
deserted streets,
bereft
of crowds of people,
only an occasional fox,
chittering squirrel or bird
interacting with the
constant wind…..
Soothed by her cool breeze
....I stood alone
...amid the chittering of the falling leaves.
The tittering and chittering was going on in a whispery way
Faeries meeting once a year, showing off in the sheerest sweet way
They were conniving to make the forest the best it had ever been
Best of all, each darling tree faerie had brought her own identical twin.
Quote: Both the enchantress and the siren charmer
are part of the same one.
Fired red wings on the breath of a dawning
he lifts and soars towards life, a breath away
from sunrise, chittering before he takes swing
this cardinal of beauty knows how to sing
she a rose in a luscious garden of pure love
a blush of pink dotted with pistil and grace
a daylight sea of beauty sent from above
daybreak breaks and a flower opens her face
both the cardinal and the rose are essential
to our well being we need their reverence.
He a sign of longevity so reverential,
she a sign of love and courage in her essence
we find the echantress in all of our selves
in his, we find a siren charmer who delves.
I can hear
the wind making snowballs
fading leaves crisping
chattering acorn crazed squirrels
a soft rustle of chilled bird feathers
I can see
low hanging branches
offerings to short nibblers
the beginning blush of a Red Maple
the edge of the day creeping closer
I can feel
the excitement
of distant V’s
chittering sparrows at sunrise
scampering squirrels
school bus arrivals
the hints of fall
gently claiming its season
John G. Lawless
©9/30/2022
My Shangri-La will have tigers as guards a plenty.
It will have peacocks, toucans, and doves, maybe twenty.
A steampunk air ship will haul my friends to carnivals and fairs.
A bald eagle will become my companion, along with some bears.
My Shangri-La will include monarch butterflies, beautifully painted.
There will be a sense of fantasy and reverence, feeling quite sainted.
There will be monkeys chittering with new ideas high up in the trees.
The weather will always be perfect, with maybe a sweet tiny breeze.
The weather is cool with expected snow;
all the weather stations are telling me,
and as I lay in bed- I hear snow blow;
but, when I wake the flakes are feathery,
so this winter child is full of great glee,
O, so beautiful is a snow draped tree !
The weatherman said on TV to dress warm;
as I walk along snowflakes kiss my lips,
I love my world after a winter storm;
snow covered cars are abandoned doomed ships,
the path I walk like a valley of dips,
and once in awhile a frigid wind whips !
An elderly man is feeding the birds;
in the snowy cold park where ducks still float,
in my mind swirling are poetry words;
watching- I wrap tight the scarf at my throat,
happy I am wearing my Artic coat,
O, lovely is a chittering bird note !
This winter child loves when weather is cold;
and when the weather is snow uncontrolled !
___________________
January 02, 2022
Poetry/Rhyme/Snowy Weather
Copyright Protected, ID 01-1418-560-02
All Rights Reserved, 2022, Constance La France
Submitted to the Standard contest, A Brian Strand Rime
sponsor, Brian Strand, Judged 02/22/2022
First Place
Sub Categories
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