gallant gangsters glorified Germanic gargoyles
graceful gentlemen garnishing gossiping gazelles
glimpsing garbled, gaudy, garish glistening gracefulness
goblin’s Gothic genealogy generating gauzy galactic giants
Giggling galloping godmother germinating gingerbread gags
Gaunt, gooey galoots guiding gabby geese to Graceland’s gates
On caffeine nights when I study late
And drink for concentration,
I lie awake with open eyes
Dreaming of peaceful sleep.
It’s quiet here now
Except for the cars in the street
Zooming back and forth;
Lions chasing a pack of gazelles.
When the cars don’t zoom past my window,
And the gazelles are silent,
I hear a different sort of quiet,
And can hear myself think.
I lie awake, and my thoughts turn to you,
Images of running with you in fields of heather
Or wet sand between our toes as the tide rolls over our feet.
I listen for your heart and your breathing.
But you are not here.
I think of lying in bed holding you in my arms
Sharing love to Quincy Jones.
The gazelles return – I lose my focus on you.
Sometimes we cry for sleep
Where we can be alone in our beds
Without companionship we don’t know if we want,
But we know we sometimes need.
Poem originally published in All Your Poems Anthology Magazine Summer 2026, The Writers Publishing Company 2026 all rights reserved, ISSN 2977-3822
They're as swift as a lightning bolt,
Just a stern gaze—gazelles revolt.
A fleeting shadow in the night,
All prey leap off in frantic fright.
Stalking prey is their known special skill,
A silent whisper, born to kill.
Seventy miles per hour they race,
Yet still they blaze with fiery pace.
Their claws, a nightmare to all flesh,
Though they prefer their meals served fresh.
Still, no carcass resists their bite;
Eating it raw is their birthright.
Their playtime's always full of fun,
Pleasure is theirs in the long run.
They enjoy life as sly cheaters—
The reason they are called cheetahs.
Painted desert skies
blanket the shifting sands.
Hiding secret surprise
in the quiet badlands.
Hardiest creatures known
walk the hot, scorching earth
living under a stone
proving their robust worth.
Scorpions, spiders, snakes
and more native species
survive where the earth bakes
and little relief sees.
Birds, gazelles, and camels
all graze the barren land,
among many mammals
that flourish in the sand.
The painted desert smiles
at its varied creatures
as if they were exiles
in defiance of their teachers.
Nature’s ecosystem
thrives among the cacti.
Life is full to the brim
under the painted sky.
The smooth, soft crackle of twigs from large feet
Closer and closer wheezing, gasping increase
Trumpeting, rumbling, crunching sound so neat
In the jungle, mighty jungle can't rest in peace
Whirr of wings at daybreak, as lions give a roar
They wait by the water as thirst draws all
Doves break the silence, as gazelles splash ashore
All species come snorting, to nature's call
Wind, swirling, train whistle resounding wind
Sweeps across the Savannah's smooth plain
Picks up those sleeping, transports round the bend
Gently drops with a thud sleeping one in pain
Dreams whether peaceful or wild are filtered
Sweeping clean our brains so won't be off kilter
finis'
Date July 04, 2022
Contest: Onomatopoeia
Sponsor: Emile Pinet
Advent Of Spring
Reemerging sunlight magically illuminate a darkened alpine summit
Cloud lingered for an eternity now banished amidst surviving spruce
Spores through withered ground sprout anew like a recurring comet
Pristine water inundates bank of anonymous river nourishing moose
Above urban landscape people taste remnants of a variety of smells
Relishing April showers children emulate elfin leprechauns carousing
Cabs defying limousines vie for fares portraying overzealous gazelles
Memories of winter beneath a bluer sky heralds the advent of spring
01/13/2018
West Palm Beach
Florida USA
Not long will it be when the grass
Be nothing more than sand.
And forests through where rivers pass
Are but a barren land.
Not long until the songs of birds
Be just a memory,
And rats that dwell under the earth,
A last breath they will breathe.
Not long before the lion's roars
Be relics of the past.
And grasslands where the gazelles roam
Turn into wastelands vast.
Beasts that hide in machines' form
Purge lands with ruthless greed.
The human monsters that lives on
Their own kin they will eat.
Crops that serve their money lust
And buildings that stand tall.
Destroy what nature's given us
Make cannibals of us all.
A world that's run by selfish swines,
Corrupt and filled with lies.
The truth they bend and intertwine
All is money in their eyes.
Death is closer than we think
If we don't try to change.
The whole world in extinction's brink
Our forests must be saved.
We should learn how to coexist
And conserve what we must.
If not, our world will fade to mist
And be engulfed in dust.
Destroy all of your greedful hate
With love for mother earth.
The future in our hand's been laid
Preventing the great dearth.
I’m ready for investing in some ballroom real estate.
The music starts at nine o’clock; we’ll get there half past eight.
Be sure to wear your sexy dress. I’ll wear my sexy pants.
The rooftop lounge is under glass; let’s go downtown and dance.
Listen to the magic of that Spanish guitar.
It can take us far and away
Swinging past the limits of the evening’s expanse,
Gliding through the night like in some gothic romance.
We’ll tango through the crowd like irresponsible gazelles.
Then sip some fine champagne and eat dark chocolate nonpareils.
If I may seduce you with a mischievous glance,
I’d like to take your hand and have us go downtown and dance.
Savor the abrazo as we caminata;
Abrida with your foot touching mine.
Ocho walking backwards when I make my advance.
Gancho as we tangle in a sensuous trance.
Now don’t expect ballet with arabesques and pirouettes.
I never met Gene Kelly; didn’t work with the Rockettes.
But I’ll never let you fall if you piernazo by chance.
So, my pretty senorita, let’s just go downtown and dance.
As the world’s nations fall when all were once strong
Like proud golden lions roaring unsure in the darkness
While gazelles and antelopes graze watchful in the night
Their money and power tremble challenging their might
All this labor, Russia, China, Brazil or the United States
Creating electrical, technical, chemical, military power
While the humanity around us stands summoned to the fight
Nearby the mountains, oceans and seas dare life as a right
The predators plan and scheme while others try to create
Works of kindness and goodness and sharing
Nature joins with coldness attacking either side uncaring
While at our arrogance the hyenas laugh in the moonlight
As the earth undoes our schemes with a deadly blight
Ebony lies in a tree, waiting in dead silence.
Green eyes missing nothing, ears at the ready
Her cubs are hungry, and she is serious.
A rustle in the grass, yet she does not move.
Two unsuspecting hyenas; not terribly tasty but better than nothing.
She waits for the perfect time to make the kill leap
Knowing it is her one chance.
She is a great mom. She will be bring meat home tonight.
As she lies waiting an injured gazelle comes into the clearing.
Gazelles are fast, but not this one. It has an injured flank.
Ebony smiles. With any luck they will have dinner and lunch.
Ladies from France
Renowned for their glamor
Parade designer dresses
All day long all night long
Like gazelles in stilettos
Looking fit looking fab
It’s a mystery and conundrum
How successful they are
To maintain girlish figures
While we punish ourselves
Trying to lose every pound
It’s not right it’s not fair
I’ve decided to see for myself
Take the next red eye flight
Meet the ladies for breakfast
Spend a day à la parisienne
So here I am ~
Starting off with café au lait
And a big buttery croissant
Rush to this shop and this bakery
One errand then another
What a joy to sit down for a bite
It wouldn’t be a meal without wine
And a baguette s’il vous plaît
Then artful pastries sublime masterpieces
Whew ~
My day is done I’m back crossing the Atlantic
What have I learned from my day with the ladies
They’ll buy one croissant or a chocolate not a box
They love friends to laugh and chat at the table
They’ll nibble their pastry savoring each single bite
They prefer to shop for fashion than for food
Read on air by invitation ~ April 28, 2021 'OPEN POETRY WITH WOLF SPIRIT'
AP: 1st place 2025, 2nd place 2020
From the word go, here's my life in a nutshell
A common phrase used to depict the ups and the hells
Am I happy or sad
With the life I've had
Basically happy but who really is except gazelles
I am the king and the queen of my jungle.
Not identifying with either as separate or the same.
I am the big cat, and as such, the ruler of everything.
The ruler of the high. The ruler of the low.
The ruler of anything fast. The eater of the slow.
My happiest chances happen when I run into a throng of
Antelopes or gazelles, scaring them to death almost
Before they see me.
"Lion!" they yell. "Lion!"
It is the yell I love the most, for it makes me feel more powerful.
How can that be? You ask. You are already so powerful.
This is the curse of the lion.
Always dissatisfaction.
I want the power of the wind, the trees, and everything else.
Never satisfied, even after a tasty meal.
The curse of being me.
ROARING HUNGRY LION
sometimes I go on
as a roaring lion roars
chasing wild pig-bores
what is for dinner
gazelles and jackals do run
away from lion
the king of beast roars
chasing those animals he
hungers killing those
animals chases
giant paws/claws embrace
just to kill then eat
chasing wild pig-bores
for he is the king of beast
and he must survive
Oh, who do you call,
My beautiful one?
Rising in iridescent splendor
In the dark side of light against the creeping dawn.
A mourning cry to follow ere the heat of day,
Dries up the velvet feathered throats of longing.
A reddened eye of patience waits and watches;
Awash in tall grass, brown eyes blink
Then more as fear leaps to flight in graceful bounds.
But a muscular coat of dusty fur and the ruby spray of death
Insures another day of life and an all too ready hunger.
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