I must confess:
I've never tried twenty five words or less.
I am a wordy poet at best.
To be concise will be a test.
Number of Words: 25
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Short lines must I carve,
Or else I shall starve;
Twenty-five words, a firm decree:
Let me fly like bees,
Chasing scents on flowers, free.
Less is best
Clearly expressed-
Purpose seemed breezy.
Wrote words to sow
Feelings I'd show.
Not “easy-peasy.”
Awwwwww....
I Was Beginning
To LIKE Those
Little Ants...
(Sigh.)
-Gray Squirrel
09-02-2025
My days are numbered
I sense scant few
no count on precisely
but know that its true.
I might make some changes
if only I knew
though change is unlikely
not having a clue.
Looking out over yonder
past some fog in my brain
no foretelling the future
as the days they do wane.
Passing thoughts
.......introspection
not a fatalist view
just a self realization
the days remaining are few!
When you can no longer bend down to pick something up
or take your best gal for a stroll in the park
And putting your socks on is a battle royale
ruining your morning and your remaining morale
When two minutes in the sun sets you to sweating
you lament that from life you’re not getting
any roses or tulips, but instead a pair of blue lips
from moaning and groaning at the aches in your two hips
Why not cheer up, my good friend – God must really love you
to pay you such attention, every minute he hugs you…
… Well, pardon me, if you will, but I’d prefer fewer hugs
if God really loved me, He’d just pull the plug
FEWER WORDS
Reflecting nature
But shorter and yet thoughtful
No more long verses
A mystery exists in my mind
Often we see leaders that are blind
Let us be one of a kind so that
We can understand that
The more effective we are the fewer titles we need!
Let us live in such a way that
Our first name is enough and that
We grow in the productivity of our name
We are much more than a required title!
In the confines of time the wave of mercy
Echoes more profound love!
The logic of error is hidden in plain sight
A certain measure of life must enter the darkness
Because an element of brokenness is set apart for an individual!
A mystery exists in my mind
Often I see leaders that are blind
Let us be one of a kind so that
We can understand that
The more effective we are the fewer titles we need!
Mark Frank
Copyright 2022
A mystery exists in my mind
Often we see leaders that are blind
Let us be one of a kind so that
We can understand that
The more effective we are the fewer titles we need!
Let us live in such a way that
Our first name is enough and that
We grow in the productivity of our name
We are much more than a required title!
In the confines of time the wave of mercy
Echoes more profound love!
The logic of error is hidden in plain sight
A certain measure of life must enter the darkness
Because an element of brokenness is set apart for an individual
A mystery exists in my mind
Often I see leaders that are blind
Let us be one of a kind so that
We can understand that
The more effective we are the fewer titles we need!
Mark Frank
Copyright 2021
The tabby slinkily strutted across the yard
fresh kill held loosely in diamond teeth;
a turtle dove, its tiny head bobbing,
to the lazy rhythm of the loping cat.
A flash of pink spangled collar
around a plump, too fleshy neck
bears witness to a home;
domestication of a sort.
Still warm; the feathers barely ruffled
the offering limpidly dropped with pride
onto soft white cushions of a couch
will be repaid with loving words, treats,
a hand gliding along a soft arched back.
The cat, again among familiar things
will guiltless drowse, exhausted
from the day's first kill.
The dove will rot; its putrefying body
trashed among the other scourings.
Two hatchlings with gaping yellow beaks
wait vainly; abandoned, they too will die.
The cat's companion tends the feeder,
enjoying morning birdsong in her garden.
Turtle doves, red-listed birds,
now, three fewer.
ancient wooden boats
gnarled hands slowly pull worn nets
smaller catch each year
Fewer People
The Fewer People who you will upset
Campaign results improve getting better yet
Instead of having voters moan and groan
They will love you much and not leave alone.
People approach you at doorsteps out front
Seeking more voters who have had to hunt
Wanting to hear what they have to say
Might shift over to your side yes they may.
Politics a behavioral science it has become
After hearing the sound of a distant drum
And while around camp fire people chanted
Maybe what we said should all be recanted.
James Thomas Horn
Retired Veteran and Poet
If you previous read the lower beginning of this looking to read a clerihew sorry, I made a silly copy/paste error, now fixed.
I could always include the philosopher your's truly
He's just a misunderstood soul that grew up unruly
I can make up excuses for him left and right
How he just ponders day and night
Long ago did he abandon his search for truth
Probably when the tooth fairy robbed his tooth
She left him a small monetary sum as he slept
Then he grew up, found out how much a tooth cost and wept
Now for a group I call the poetry soup drama club
No it's not for their love of theater that I give them this dub
It's for their concern of who gets comments and views
I think the very meaning of it all did they loose
They really shocked me and it's not that easy
To write another clerihew about it seems cheesy
But I wonder why, here they would seek such vanity
Thankfully I write mostly for my sanity
The Cathedral of Trees is without its nave as the willows did not behave,
threathening its owners' hearth and home in their own grown so executed
were they having had their day, but its twin spires still desire to reach the heavens.
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