A face, like sundown leaning on rusted steel—
boasting through storms he promised to end.
Lies? They cracked like paint in late May heat.
But some talkin’ copperheads still call the tariffs gold.
Some watched. We all waited... sunburned by belief.
Color My Mood
May 25, 2025
Nette Onclaud
Note: Grateful for a 1st place finish in your Color My Mood Contest.
Jails are bleeding out because of politics and false empathy.
Asylums died because of Geraldo's passion and naivety.
Now crazies and mad dogs are working out their kinks.
Out on the streets and onto the neckbones of society.
Politicians acting surprised when the mayhem arises.
Even though it was caused by their failed P.C. policies.
While a bunch of fat cats are scratching each other's backs
Pointing claws and blaming while donning fancy-ass hats.
Shedding crocodile tears, but they care less than the predators.
Nowhere is it safe for your sons and daughters.
Not even pine needle trails, where they seek peace.
Two-legged copperheads lurk behind trees, under leaves.
You've passed them before-those wild-eyed half-beings.
Flint souls sniffing for a syringe brimming with gasoline...
Just off trail, a thousand shallow graves of the naive.
Raccoons are in the parlor
Opossums are on the run,
Copperheads are in my harbor
They are having lots of fun
Chickens are in my windowsills
White tail foxes in the hall
Sweet piglets in the grist mill,
They are out to have a ball.
Koi fish in the kitchen sink
Unicorns surround the yard,
Rooster just gave me a wink,
He has fallen pretty hard.
Husband moved three years ago,
Animals too much for him.
Spider webs are giant so
There are no visits from the kin.
Whales are in my bathtub,
Cockroaches are in the kitchen.
Dogs and cats fight over grub,
T-rex’s toe is itch’ in.
Ants have commandeered the living room.
Sloths have taken over my bed.
I frankly cannot find any room
To lay my weary head.
Ozark bound, fifth day of the week
On narrow state roads, winding and steep
Town through town sparse and sprawling
Like dot to dot of a preschooler's drawing
Our destiny reached sweet moment of truth
Wading up the stream to our fountain of youth
In the sweltering heat on limbs overhead
Copperheads shading in camouflaged beds
Crystal clear water slippery rocks for fun
Spring water so cold it leaves you numb
Brother in tow we holler and hoot
Swimming the pool from our fountain of youth
Fifty years later my dog for a friend
With roads behind our journey begins
Wading the stream with shadows of old
No brother to play with no hand to hold
Precious memories of childhood facing the truth
Standing alone at our fountain of youth
:In memory of my brother
an original poem by the "poemdog" Daniel Turner
Do you hear the devil's laughter?
low within the marsh waters
rustling high the tree tops
Answer not with prayer
but within a smirk of doubt
Don't tilt the boat least you fall in
and a fat gator eats you alive for lunch
Or an angry snapping turtle bites a hunk of flesh off your hide
shoot them copperheads with a bb gun
Silence in this soaked land
a drizzle of rain coats the lush vegetation
It shimmers and shines when the sun breaks loose
Cattails are full
break em and milk comes out
Bloodsucking mosquitoes
tiny vampires that the fat bullfrogs to full to feast on
Dragon flies hover over
and tadpoles dance in a swarm
Black Rail hiding in the reeds
boat gets closer hear him growl
Tiny bird no one ever sees
Ki-Ki-Krrr Ki-Ki-Krrr
Where could you be
I hear but do not see
Time for home and mom's slowed cooked beans
corn bread squares with a tab of sweet butter
Deep in the nightfall
with the bedroom window cracked
do you hear the faint sound of the devil's laughter
hiding lost souls in murky water graves
Black Rail waits for dark
flies away in the midnight sky
fly fly fly
tiny bird with the dark you are safe
Late at night
I lay in the swamp
Waiting for Jesus
My Pa told me that the swamp
Is where he lives
That a copperheads mouth
Is like the Mona Lisa’s face
And a cottonmouth never strikes twice
Now I don’t worry much about the gators
They don’t eat nothing bigger than a dog
So I’m ok laying here drunk in a foot of water
Singing old country songs
The Spanish moss swings in the breeze above me
An a screech owl cries out in the night
Cypress knees all around me
Makes me think of legs wrapped up in mud
And when Jesus comes I’ll be ready
To meet my maker under this canopy
Because if God ever lived anywhere
He lived here in Metairie.
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