parenthesis of butterfly wings
yellow-black monarchial things
from caterpillars derived
cocooned and then pried
like renegade cotton candy fleeing its stick
~ one of nature's slick little tricks
Fine
Very fine
Like a worm
Shirt cotton threads pull
And fray
Bare skin
Pale skin finally
Appears through the gasps
Through the holes
small fluffy balls
carried by sudden breeze
to a foreign land
Just touch these hairs in the back of my neck
i will see your face and pray you are just the last
next to my bed, here you are reaching out,
stop touching me i am not yours!!
Take your clothes off and come to bed!
don't be so shy you are a good buy,
not as expensive as free voices,
not as cheap as kiss without thick lip,
color is my choice my blindness doesn't know.
Who are you let me touch your wrist
thin or thick i don't care at all who are you,
can i hear your voice just one time,
yes master I'm all yours let this be the lesson,
mute i might be, deaf it is what you are.
This is what the dream is all about,
if you scream i know because i can feel,
go ahead put your hand on my lips,
count the words on by one,
it feels like the first time,
white on black in the cotton fields.
Will anyone be responsible,
who will pay, the scars are too deep,
another 200 hundred years,
maybe than justice will prevail
until then mute it is my best pill.
Dancing upon cotton candy,
You dream your sweet dreams,
Believing the world is all sugar and streams.
You, a first kiss on a cotton candy cloud,
Believing the world was yours, unbowed.
Beneath the moonlight,
Your solitary form shines bright.
Two days in a row
cotton candy sunrise
seen through crepe myrtle trees....
pet pulls me
Collum Lune type of Haiku 3/5/3 words instead of syllables
cotton candy sunrise
greeted by mourning doves' coo....
coneflowers' blossoms fading
Krugiodendron ferreum or Black Ironwood
Ostrya virginiana or American Hophornbeam
Carpinus caroliniana or American Hornbeam
--------------------------------------------------Black ironwood (like African Blackwood) is not a good choice for a modern bassoon body. While its extreme density makes it ideal for oboes and clarinets, it is far too heavy and reflective acoustically for a bassoon. -------------Ironwood is best suited for acoustic and electric guitars, specifically for dense, high-wear components like fretboards, bridges, and tuning pegs-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Acer saccharum or Sugar Maple------Acer nigrum or black Maple----------Acer rubrum or red maple-----Acer heldreichii or Bosnain Mountain Maple-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Keep my Reed Moist............................................................................!
A recorder is not a flute,
and a guitar is not a lute,
I said, from the piano stool,
sounding like a fool.
A platypus is not a duck.
It does not quack or cluck.
These are things I know.
'Tis our Lord that makes them so.
A sofa is not a chair.
A toupee is not a head of hair,
but if you're a fly,
alight, when you drop by.
Clouds aren't made of cotton candy,
beaches, oftentimes, are sandy,
and if you're a crab,
stop by. Take a yellow cab.
So, I whistle as I roam
barefoot, looking for a home
and a love that's kind and true.
Tell me, where are you?
Cotton tails jump logs
Even in the forest fogs
Yet people waste lives
Jell-o nails hitting hives
The quill writes, the poem stands real and tall,
some contests are moving targets, bright and slick.
Each contest entry just makes it wobble, fall~
please tell me this is all just harmless shtick.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The third drawer down,
stuck sometimes,
resists like a child refusing supper~
then gives all at once.
Inside:
a landslide of faded cotton,
each square a surrendered flag.
Some still crisp with the ghost of starch,
others softened by years of fists,
damp with forgotten tears.
The blue gingham one
worn thin at the edges~
once blotted my knee
when I fell running toward her.
The white lacy one,
embroidered with spring flowers,
never used, as if saving itself
for a grief too clean to stain.
At the bottom,
one still folded tight
into a perfect rectangle—
the way she left it,
the way I won’t unfold it,
keeping her last touch
trapped in the seams.
related memoir vignette at: poetrysoup.com/short_stories/lavender_time_and_mother_13659
Thin
Very thin
Like a worn shirt
Cotton threads pull and fray
Bare skin
The pale skin finally appears
Through the gaps
Through the holes
Rare
The hair
Black brushes write on the dark clouds
Or they write on themselves
Their own present
Vanished
It has disappeared
It no longer exists
No longer
I don't know what I know
I don't know what I know
What I know
What I know
A world destroyed before me
A world destroyed under my feet
Before me
Under my feet
The tops
Of these birches
Like paintbrushes
They paint the darkness blacker
The white whiter
Dark on dark
Light on light
I don't know what I know
I don't know what I know
What I know
What I know
A world destroyed before me
A world destroyed under my feet
Before me
Under my feet
The moment I see it
The moment the clarity
Reaches my eyes
Reaches my mind
Fleeting
We see only what no longer exists
We see only what no longer exists
The past brushes against us
The past haunts us
The past lies to us
Neither one
Nor the other
I don't know what it is
I don't know
What I know
Under my feet
It's gone
Gone
Gone
The gentle beauty of your blooms
are delicate and exquisite to the touch ~
your history's fraught with wrongdoing
but through ne'er fault of your own
AP: Honorable Mention 2026, Honorable Mention 2026
snow falls stern and strong
cotton shroud on sleepy trees~
stars frozen with cold.
Sub Categories
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.