The high moors slant giddily over gritstone edges
where torrents overflow gallons of sky.
Grouse are blown sideways
by a bone-twisting gale.
The land is harried by fishtailing winds,
a sparse tufted earth blown beyond its roots.
In the valley, cats crouch; dogs snap the air
their barks as full as storm-drains.
Torrid echo’s outrun stampeding frights.
In the village pub,
locals move away from the smoke grimed
rattling windows,
gather around a coal fire in the taproom,
speak about past storms, compare and contrast.
Street sparrows survive
by doing what they always do,
though nobody knows how, what or where.
Categories:
fishtailing, poetry,
Form: Free verse
Torrents overflow a rocking sky.
The high moors slant giddily over gritstone edges
dark are the claws of calamity.
Small birds are blown sideways into scant
bone-twisted trees, crooked branches spear each other.
The land is harried by low and high fishtailing winds,
the tufted earth blown beyond its roots.
In the valley, village cats crouch; dogs snap the air
their mouths as full as storm-drains.
A banshee wails in our hearts
while we listen to its silent screams.
We are nothing but torrid echo’s run through
by stampeding feather-light frights,
guttering lights that seek a less bruising way
to escape grip of this blustering day.
Categories:
fishtailing, poetry,
Form: Free verse
Incinerate all vacant lust
Fishtailing the mind
In an ****** of energy
Finite thought turbulent
Expressions broken from their jaw
Antsy minds recoil in pain
Our mutant lives disintegrate
Against a streaming bed of action
Bombarded by the sun
We wake resilient
Floating from this wayward skin
Categories:
fishtailing, dance, dark, freedom,
Form: Free verse
Wind passes at high velocity, snow flakes stick to a cold, frosty ground. Dressed from head
to toe, I'm warm in my attire. Timberland boots, two sweaters (hooded to protect my head),
with an Addidas skully cap. As I walk, the footsteps left behind vanish, covered by the newly
fallen flakes. Above my head I notice the branches in passing, covered, colored powder
white. I blink, my eyes take a printed snap shot into memory.
A thin coat of black ice line the streets, slick, invisible to the human eye. I hear the sounds
from struggling tires, looking to the left I see an SUV fishtailing, brakes failing, then slides
into a guard rail. A stray dog walks slowly, crossing my path, shivering in this blistering cold.
The dog stops at my feet, standing, trying to collect whatever heat leaves my body.
My lips are chapped, fingers are numb,
my feet feel like heavy ice cubes.
to bad I had to walk outside
this One cold Winter
Morning
.........:JP)...........
Categories:
fishtailing, seasonsdog, dog,
Form: Free verse