She mentioned 'worthless' ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦
degraded ¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ the ebb of love-”
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ the end of love-”
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ with visitors, ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ childlessness is ending. Love
¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ over,
¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ adopted: she ¦¦¦ a month ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ (perhaps) many ¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦
until ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦¦¦¦ another Henry, ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦
¦¦¦ to ¦¦¦ pal.
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ tiger-lily dreamed.
¦¦¦ we dream, uncertain, ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ here
& there: ¦¦¦¦¦ we our loves, whereas ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ somewhere.
¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ We're on our way ¦¦¦ the ¦¦¦¦¦¦ fair
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ flicks & ¦¦¦ single flick
¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ intolerable ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦
Texas Bobcat—quiet resident of nearly every county,
you move through forests, plains,
and the edges of our neighborhoods
with the ease of an animal built to belong anywhere
concealment remains.
Your coat—tawny and mottled, with faint bars and scattered spots~
mirrors the muted colors of scrub and stone.
Tufted ears lift like alert punctuation,
your short tail flicks its small, decisive signal,
and your muscular frame carries
the steady confidence of a medium-sized hunter.
While we sleep behind walls and windows,
you cross rocky ledges, wooded corridors,
and even urban green spaces with practiced silence.
Your senses read the dark for rabbits, rodents, birds~
and sometimes the bold chance of larger prey.
Unseen and adaptable, you are proof
that wildness still threads itself
through North Texas—alert, enduring,
and entirely at home.
I see the eye of an albino deer,
facing east, as I face north
It is almost silent
The sky is an empty granite gray
His eyes match
the mimosa flowers
that feather down in a fluffy rain
around us, unevenly
He looks at my hazel eyes,
probably not seeing the color
I hope he considers me
as I consider him
It is 5:15 on the road.
We are sandwiched in by woods
in the fatigued heat
of a drawn-out Sunday in June
when even the cardinals are tired of singing
The buttercups
are a dusty shade of mustard,
too dry to stand up straight
The male albino drops his head,
after figuring me out,
nibbles the hot grass
and flicks his ears
His tail swishes away a fly
A hungry mosquito
mocks this moment
and won’t leave my ears alone
The oaks and pines stop swaying
as if holding their breath
There is heavy honeysuckle
in the air, and smoke
Someone must be burning leaves
I am close enough to see
the velvet blush of his antlers
He is a four pointer
I count the seconds
and try to find meaning
in this
A red-shouldered hawk
announces itself
and the porcelain king
scampers off
into the thicket
My tabby cat,
sprawls on the floor,
to catch a rat.
Her eyes gleam bright,
in dark like stars.
a hunter's night.
She flicks her tail
and quickly leaps
keen not to fail.
pounces on rat,
catches her prey,
drags to the mat.
Flicks and rolls,
It works in a wondrous way
Though some wish it would not obey
as the brain slowly tolls.
I enjoy how the lines flow
like they’re sought in the sky afar,
and though they leave the soul ajar,
it pays off what I owe.
As it aches slow and decadent
and helps litter my anatomy,
this is not a regret to me
as my pains are now evident.
Controlled by will
and yet none to be found
therefore no need to ground
what can be perfectly still.
The joint is my lover,
ligaments let the blood flow,
hidden and more on show,
all will be worn and washed over.
I have worked myself young,
creeks, grinds with naivety
skint with offers for prosperity,
so my wrist is what i have brung.
Robin lands on bench.
He flicks his tail in contempt,
"So, this is the world!"
The day arrives blaming no one. The sky wipes its face -
forgets.
Sparrows delight the earth. A feathered serpent
slips through time. Blood spills,
the living rejoice, and hawks sing as they reap.
Under the busy sod, bones grow lighter,
an enriched soil knits more grass.
Owls and mice greet each other between mountains
of mist. Forests shed their dewy tears, then reach
for the salt of the sun.
A lizard flicks its tongue tasting once more
a world just begun.
The air is very still
with not a cloud in the sky
the air is the temperature of my skin
as Paris sits in unearthly quiet
I love the liminal world
in the last-watch of night
the coldest-dark before dawn
when the city’s not yet alive
A low-area-mist lies on the Seine
like a luminous veil of winter breath
with stygian, pooling currents underneath
that always remind me of death
the black cat always sits
on the quay wall of the bridge
it’s there almost every day
not completely, solidly black
so i think, luck-wise, it’s ok
I make a conversational mee-oww sound
each time we pass, but it never answers back
it just jerkily flicks the final inch of its tail,
like it’s giving us the cat-bird.
.
.
A song for this:
Nothing Can Stop Us by Saint Etienne
Levitating (Live from the Royal Albert Hall) by Dua Lipa
Delighting our Black Caps chaps
Uniting fans fighting nite nite naps
Gaslighting Indian foes mishaps
Rewriting those cricketing maps
As the Black caps hit their straps
Darryl the toast the host soul saps
Gunbarrel straight out of the traps
They unravel yet another six slaps
Our great festive carol never flaps
A late Christmas pressie unwraps
Flicks & tricks spate picks the gaps
Indian spinners fate sinners lapse
Black caps chaps claps & back slaps
Kiwi yippee we see diddy GP scraps
Even that fat cat Virat finally snaps
Zen of Darryl and Glen victory laps
After white-wash a chance perhaps?
Hitch both Ajaz & Mitch under wraps
No Will or Matt but still Indians zaps
The plush crushed can’t turn off taps
Out gunned out spun another collapse
Lush waves rush flush with Black caps
Rarely feral these days,
these agile creatures, mostly furry,
are kept in houses as pets.
Meows and purrs are their means
of generally pleasant communication.
Howls and growls – not so pleasant!
Whether Munchkin or Maine Coon huge,
each has its distinct personality -
accentuated by tail flicks and eye blinks
Consolation and companionship
they may provide the fortunate human
whom they choose to curl up with.
Only the very young & very beautiful can be so aloof
Hanging out with the boys all swagger & poise
Our new dashing wannabe tyro is ample proof
(coined by Tom with aplomb.. purloined by me)
Mused Caribbean calypso cool fused with well private school
Cherished plush rhapsodies segue with relished lush melodies
Lips licks fancy flicks & tricks picnics phoenix from the Ashes
Remedies for believers lulled by lullabies from lyrical levers
Poetic shapes lacy lines never frenetic balletic aesthetic
The boundary rope dope trope Jacob is our new hope
The computer says “YES” suitor for the future prophetic
Or down with the kids well Bethell’s the real deal rookie
Badgers hearts swell feels like proper Test cricket nookie
Tell his chilled southpaw drawer got more than Cookie
While other than Joe everyone else was playing hooky
Golden curls & olden twirls.. BET HELL for the bookie
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
She descends the trunk
upside-down,
skirts flaring like
spilled cranberry wine~
a furry scandal in December.
Her tail flicks twice,
aristocratic,
as she steals the last
candied almond
from your
gift basket.
Her neighbors
whisper~
no one dares
reprimand
a lady who wears
winter
better than
the holly.
It's with a deep feeling of love that
we decorate our Christmas tree
and mount it in a place of honour
so it brings joy to all who
will come to rest their eyes upon it.
It's a tradition close to our heart
as we bestow charm and beauty on each branch.
Many ornaments have sentimental value
as they've been passed down with great care
through years and generations.
Sparkle and glitter light up the season
with added sprinklings and flicks of magic.
Everyone enjoys how it brings out the child in us
as we reminisce about Christmases past
and feel nostalgic for loved ones we dearly miss.
AP: 2nd place 2025
In the cool, white
fluorescent light
a scalpel rasps, whispering,
insisting on detail.
A chisel flicks,
deft and sure,
snicking, razing,
in the clean steam
of icebreath.
Formless, frosty
bulbous ice
has pattern
punched into it.
An awl starts clattering,
keen steel stabbing
shards of crystal free
to shower down
as glassy shrapnel.
Ruth Amid the Corn
takes form,
growing
as matter falls away.
Final flurries of fussing,
flowers wreathed around,
and the beauty is inched
into the fug
of the banquet,
sweating.
Ruth weeps unseen,
pristine for now,
but already warming.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Four furry silhouettes, whiskers twitching, huddle around a cardboard grid~
Four acorn tokens clatter on the board.
Dew-damp grass stains the Baltic Avenue deed.
A whiskered snout nudges Community Chest~
Winter stores secured beneath oak bark.
Four paws grip the dice cup tight and shake.
Electric Avenue mortgaged for one nut.
Tail-flicks trace railroads, Park Place dreams
Shatter as a crow steals the top hat piece.
Four bushy strategists stare at Free Parking.
Rain begins its raid on Marvin Gardens.
The dice roll forgotten, they scatter skyward~
Squirrelopoly unfinished beneath gathering clouds.
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