Denizens Poems - Poems about Denizens

Mother Nature, divine and yet so whimsical Her flowing streams fall warm, healing and abiding A darkened blue-green sea, maroon and sapphire shores, cradle us asleep, with your gentle waves harboring the dour rude awakenings when eddying rapids currented by the tide Consume the uncertainty and the lies of the day tearing the heart apart Suspend...

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Lone snowflakes drift in As anorexic, claustrophobic bats shiver Wrapped in their bat wing sleeping bags. A field mouse plays “Three Little Pigs” With a patch of straw. An eerie wind whistles wickedly Alarming an itinerant mole. I snore, noisily unaware, That my brother sub-let His half of the den. John G. Lawless ©1/21/2023...

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2022 was the year the flights disappeared Cancellations mounting as Xmas neared Hope gave way to despair For denizens of the air The year's imprimatur ~ a cross to bear...

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Part 3 of ? in an unfolding Denizens series Spring came; Penelope left with a company, bodyguard, chambermaid, there at her side. Ten days of travel now lay there before them: the passage maintained well, the way open, wide.  For six days, the journey was most uneventful. Then the air thickened, felt heavy to breathe. When they made camp in the moonlight...

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Part 2 of ? How did we get to this point in our story, and why was the army the king had so small? It would appear that we need to go farther back, tell you about this sad king and his fall. All great adventures come with a sweet princess, and ours is Penelope, as you will see. She...

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Part 1 of ? Clippety, cloppety, clippety, cloppety All the king’s horses and all the king’s men mounted for battle in all of their armor; they rode off so gallantly through moors and fens. How could they possibly know what awaited them?  Would it have mattered, or turned them around?  Six days out, there has been nary a sign of them,  and not...

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Where the sandhill cranes gather, I stand and watch the swans preen In the morning sun near the bridge Alone, except for a circling vulture All denizens of the lowland culture, Passing high over the flanking ridge A red-tail hawk hereabout rarely seen Above the warm, crystal blue water. written February 19, 2022 (Using the reverse rhyme scheme which I have discovered in so many of...

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twisting in tingled arcs through a cold late september breeze, dancing in serpentine patterns to the puppeteer strings of the wind, a scrap of paper gracefully lands upon your windshield it says "GET F*CKED"...

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