A crown
Of gathered shells
Indigo springtime sky
Mirrors the contented ocean
Mermaid
Time, known to draw out
Of a stale-made air
In wretched creatures of Tedium
Zombie-eyed despair
Midst friendly converse
Rises, excited
Quick shook as a flame back out.
That animated!
The beautiful butterfly fluttering and free
wondrous and windblown, always to be.
The wretched roach scrambling on the ground,
along with the dirt and grime hopefully never found.
Beauty and wretched on opposite sides of the spectrum,
traveling along in the other direction.
These roads traveled at length finally come to a destination,
curiously back to their origination.
Here the regal radiant roach angelic in kind,
now in a place it will always be fine.
The butterfly moth now harried and seasoned,
fallen from grace there really is no reason.
In the souls of men striving for clarity,
precarious perceptions prove loss of dignity.
Through the creatures eyes there is no vanity,
the only true vision not tainted by humanity
Delicate creatures from heaven,
making flowers smile and giggle.
Wings lite as tissue paper,
colors coming from God's palette.
Graffiti of Butterflies,
makes the heart love.
Love seeing these little beauties,
as they flutter by.
(Hast thou not known? hast thou not heard, that the everlasting God, the LORD, the Creator of the ends of the earth, fainteth not, neither is weary?)
Isaiah 40:28.
Ha! Rest day they say!
He is The Supreme Being
No slumber nor sleep.
Animals within the proximity,
Approximately a thought away,
Playing outside of awareness,
The highest vibrations,
Rippling through creation,
We are the designation,
Using our imagination,
Appreciation in the sight,
Brings delight to the viewer,
Fewer and fewer appear,
If you carry around fear,
They hear you clear,
And steer the other way,
So stay open to love,
See the birds above,
Think of the nature of things,
Watch the wonders it brings,
Singing creatures all around,
The best feature I found,
The ground is crawling,
I'm falling in love with Earth,
Even dirt is worth something,
Swimming in The sea of living ,
I've seen what she is giving,
Forgiving myself of the past,
I'm free at last,
Casting out my net,
In case you can't see it yet,
Get caught by my intention,
Your attention is needed,
Earth greeted us openly,
Only to be used and abused,
Leaving her creatures confused.
In honor of St. Patrick's Day and for the Daniel Henry Rodgers' "Green To The Gills" Contest, I chose a poetry form to describe briefly at least seven of the most familiar of Irish creatures. I find the belief they must have once had in these myths to be fascinating. The poem form Debide is strange and a bit difficult, but I thought it worked well for what I wanted to show because each one is a little poem for the creature being described. See in notes above how to do the form.
The Banshee
delivers a death decree.
Her scream is horrid to hear
near.
A rabbit
could become Pooka’s habit.
With mischief he makes a swift
shift!
If maybe
a changeling were your baby,
that stand-in is not a mild
child!
In water,
the Selkie’s not an otter.
On land, is he still a real
seal?
The creature
*Dubh-Aos’ horrid feature:
Is he carrying a head
dead?
A fairy
is not Tinker-bell airy.
Leprechaun’s type is a tad
bad.
Of terror
Fear Darrig is a bearer.
Cause you nightmares? This Red Man
can!
*Doubh-Aos sounds like Doo-Ace and
with apostrophe is three syllables
100.
7 Creatures of the Night
Hihi!...hihihi!
I am a witch
And I'm a creature of the night
I can make you a sandwich
Here! Take a bite!
Hur!...hur!...hur!...hur!...hur!
I am an ogre
And I'm a creature of the night
I can tear you asunder
Will you dare me a fight?
Hehe!...hehe!...he!
I am an elf
And I'm a creature of the night
Watch your step
Or I'll take away your sight!
Huhuhuhuhuh!
I am a vampire
And I'm a creature of the night
Your blood is my desire
I wanna hold you tight!
Haah…aah…aah…
I am a banshee
And I'm a creature of the night
Come on, sing with me
To the grave be frozen with fright!
Awooh…wooh…wooh!
I am a werewolf! Woof!...Woof!
And I'm a creature of the night
Look at the top of your roof!...Woof!...Woof!
I've just hopped…Now, I'm on your right!
Brains…brains…brains…brains…brains!
I am a zombie
And I'm a creature of the night
I am coming to munch thee
Now run with all your might!
-03/10/2012
(Dumarao)
*created for English 413 under Dr. Minnie P. Chan
A thin and frail
Shield hangs across
The garden gate
Separating their world
From mine.
Still heard and seen
They certainly are
A strange kind.
Wandering
Roaming
Mindlessly
On the other side
In finite lands
Unknown
In any of God’s atlases or plans.
Making noise, living lies
Eating with their unwashed hands
Enormous political pies.
These hairy obese things
Play meaningless games
In purple nights in chains.
F…king in obscene dreams
Twisting through
infernal days
Headless and unashamed.
The mountain stands, so tall and grand,
A silent vigil, on the land;
It does not claim the skies above,
Nor drives away the birds of love;
It weathers storms, invites the breeze,
And hosts creatures beneath its trees.
In the evenings twilight gloaming
daytime changelings cease their roaming
place acorn hats upon their heads
lay down in hidden feather beds.
Some sleep while others shake in fear
as blackness comes so ever near,
and beasties you should never see
will search the night for me and thee.
Strange sounds break silence of the night
as darkness takes away your sight.
Scuffles, howls, a sickening moan;
echoes that chill you to the bone.
When, if you sleep, they stay with you
they live within you through and through;
the beasties you should never see
who search the night for me and thee.
The cockcrow is some distance yet
more demons you have not yet met.
Night seems much longer than a day;
that moment when the changelings play.
Is that the creaking of the stairs?
You quickly say your hasty prayers
that beasties you should never see
don’t search the night for me and thee.
Shock, horror and cries
Bodies bereft of souls
Dried blood and flesh
Unbounded sin and evil
Of ‘evolved’ creatures
Even vultures are aghast
The jungles are better
Days and nights pass
All remains intact
Peace and freedom reins
Coexistence blooms
Without drama and rhetoric
Others are not so evolved
They say, claiming superiority
Coining human dignity
Not one but billions of them
Greed and hatred personified
The nature’s biggest blunder
trilling twittering
cicadas frogs or song birds
creatures of the night
But not the interminably hopeless daddy longlegs
some say cellar spiders also know as the cranefly
lurking amidst the shower curtain then
flapping wildly all around my hat
just not first thing on
a Monday morning when stark staring
and uncoffeed thus it must
be duly despatched with an implement
humanely and meanwhile the water's
spraying in all directions
Later on leaving my nosy neighbour beckons
from her window and announces
there's a wet patch on the outside wall
you must have a leaky bath
you'll want to get that sorted and
I'm already late and it's the dullest
blanket grey dullest cold beans for breakfast
not that you have time for it
dead nothing morning and I wish you the best of
luck with the rest of it
Famous pet doctor, James Alfred Wight
Who, at 50 years of age, began to professionally write
Taking "James Herriot" as his pen name
Bought from a goalkeeper at a football game
Couldn't publish with the name he used as a vet
Self-promotion goes against professional etiquette
But he had a way with words
To write many funny blurbs
About his family, his friends, and their pets
His books then made their way on TV
A film, a sequel, and shows on the BBC
But the man was unflattered by his fame
After all, the critters still saw him the same!
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