The land suffers too much greening;
luxuriance froths to fever and glut,
birds cannot consume all the insects,
nor serpents eat the thronging flocks.
The soil hogs on the swill of decay,
drey and burrow are ovens
for a prowling pestilence.
There is no softness. The sun
bites the bloated and rancid,
a balance is tipped off kilter,
the climate repaints its face
more garish each day.
A little poverty is needed, a tax
on the riotous and abundant,
the sickly succulence of ripe sap
be drained and clarified.
We live now in the eyes of strangers,
hunters are maddened by the gnawing
of long fevered bones.
we mend what we can -
broken saucers, with gum and patience
a detached belt buckle, with flair and calculations
but an air of nameless melancholy, with agony and gloom?
imagine this, darling darner
my skin is laden with a heavy layer of misery
for i am the embodiment of darkness,
to touch me is a sin
to have me is a crime
i stand alone
and not even a tempest in a glass of whiskey
can move me from my despair
no tool that you know of -
no plier, no hammer and not even a utility knife
can help me repair the wonderful misery that i am.
but oh darner!
you can mend me, they say
but why would you kiss darkness
and be one with my thoughts,
which are most certainly arranged like a drey
on a dying tree with only one leaf?
my love, after i've groped my way around this darkness
in search for answers
i have crashed several times
and hence
i am indeed wounded, and flies feast on my broken pieces
i haven't had a ray to bathe in, my darling
and these demons reek of anger and dead flies
oh no! you shan't have to come any closer!
it's not your kisses, nor your embrace
but what would really mend my broken soul, oh darner
if not your fairly blatant lies?
I should go paint sometime today.
My art studio is across the way.
In a garage not a concrete quay.
My horse painting can almost neigh.
I hear it from my squirrel nest drey.
Wait a second. Is that a blue jay?
Now where is my Hawaiian lei?
I throw myself into the fray.
With a cheerful hat merry and gay.
Sun is shining taking all the gray.
Showing her power in each little day.
The half painted canvases are my prey.
I shall finish them today, okay?
Will I sell them? No. That is a nay.
They are mine and mine alone today.
An Excerpt from Nature's diary
The Rain took a break
Sunshine embraced the wet woods
Squirrel out of drey
©Anulaxmi Nayak, December 2019
In the trees,
high up catching every breeze
small twigs, dry grass, and leaves form the large drey,
with stuffing from some cushioned chair pretended to be hay;
atop the forked trunks of mighty oaks
a perch of squirrels gather against wintry pokes.
Encircling the trees in playful chase
each independent life seek security and escape,
built-in a day, the nest is snug and tight
protecting the gray creature from windy flight,
fallen remnants of last year's nests
lay on the ground, a dispersed mess
as new ones soon replace
the error of past mistakes;
but now and then, a familiar little face peers in
the window at the wall seeking the warm within.
Craig Cornish Last Year's Nests
11/23/19
Premium members
can read the words below that
you see as three x's
There once was a French
girl named Nanc who set sail from
the west coast of ***
Seven sisters swam
in a race, but only one
finished in first ***
Cym went to the store
to buy shoes—but instead bought
two liters of ***
I saw her today
at the reception, waiting
for her ***
Drey was driving her
Lexus when she saw the sign,
"Don't mess with ***!"
Rhonda was riding
in a Caddy driven by
her Sugar ***
The squirrel who played like a kitten is dead
found her stiff and rigid body where she used to tread,
on the ground by the pond she lay still and silenced
only the furry tail still waved in the wind's defiance.
Looking up into the tall hundred year oak
were few remains of the nested drey she cloaked
for her refuge and hiding place once safe
still there, clung leaves gathered moss on the edge of escape.
The sudden change in weather, a north west wind that came
dropping 30 degrees in just a few hours with cold rain
swept in later in the night with a racing wind and snow
that slid thru the trees and flung her here to earth below.
This small creature once elaborating chatter and play
slipped quick and quietly away
unseen and missed by those around
she has final resting peace found.
Vass Mack doo im denn lederhosen? Vass Mack doo im den bett? So feeler loiter imm denn arbent. Frei frei drey. Skipping in a motorway cafe. Surfing in a lane. Motels full of moo. And moisture derived from a plant. Oh great leaf of leaves. How wonderful. How explosive and erotic the Zen like military precision of a tampered live performance and a jeopardy swung with an iron rope. Wielding an axe then. In a sub continent a prawn sunbathes only at left angles to the sun. Whilst the world sleeps. A fish claps. A wave sings. And a moon laughs. Sin in the bin then. Singing an aria to the trumpeting swans who swarm many metres above this globe. Canopy. Cacti. Call. Cakes. Calligraphy. Can. Ice tray flake not on a boom zoom board as the radiation leaks in a circular circulating pattern. 5.6 zebras. Xxxxxxx ha and I will have a dainty cup in the garden ball with all the ornaments. Xxxxx
Feels like the end
Busy
Scrambling a surety for a bend
Believing
Will turn to a trend
Never could feel for pay
But be a bit Daniel Day
With marilyn's kiss each day
All satisfied even just in a bay
Dreaming away peeling
But this feeling
Once like aubrey
Other brought comforting as a
drey
Confident but yet
En route so hot
Sweetly imperfect
But worthy as believed
Twitter: @bashalums
Curtain of brown dusk
Could not hide your pleasant silhouette
From my sight.
Memories of a day
Being shared between evening clouds.
A moment still hanging-
With a last wish of a spring leaf.
Wild wind playing flute
As stuck up in a drey.
Gloaming listens drifting bird’s swan-song,
‘ecstasy of living is joy enough.’
Then…
Abyss within
Rain composes a rondeau
‘I enliven grey soil.’
A poem by goutam hazra