Gabby wailful goes wane
Gassy wagtail
Gruff white-livered
Grudging walleyed
Grubby wanton
Grouchy warlike
Great weasel
Gross-out wicked
Grizzle whiney
Going in will-o'-the-wisp
Going with his big baby
Traffic is slow.
In the drizzle
the holiday crowd complain and grizzle.
Magpies and currawongs are carolling.
The morning is silvery now.
A heavy sky bends down,
dropping diamonds
wetly on the ground.
Mounds and hills will grow emerald grasses.
Rain sings the treasure of life as it passes.
Today Russia has begun a war broiling in Putin’s sick fantasy
Ukraine people gird themselves for bombs and deaths, many deaths
Can the USA, NATO swoop in and stop the invasion?
Maybe yes maybe no
Humans can fly to the moon and aspire to travel to the stars
but can’t figure out how to feed or stop killing each other
maybe they don’t know how but
it looks like they just don’t give a damn about people
It will be written in the fate of mankind
that mankind did not earn a second chance
as killing of humans and animals continued
appalling acts in the name of selfish egos of men
Who have a rock of grizzle in their chest where a heart should be
convincing themselves a bad idea conceived at night is good however
the reality of an ill thought out plan in the chill of evening has a price
The destruction brings forth a different realism that hurts
women, children, the old and they pay the price
but they, the people hating, war mongers don't care.
Winter finally moves his lumpen sluggish weight,
Spring is like a shy dryad shivering in his arms
Wind's whippets droop to trifling whine
Sullen rain hisses to a grizzle.
tiny fruit buds swell enough to moisten lips.
First daffodil maidens preen, bright faces so fair!
Chattering swallows check granite grey mortared mansion.
Duck naps snug, beak a chest --- gull floats overhead.
Longer days mean I must leave my snuggly, sleepy daze,
slightly more light; work energies reappear
poetry is laid aside in favour of trimming trees
seething solar heating sound, signals dimly smiling sun.
seed packets eagerly spread out – What to plant this season?
Suddenly, more bees aflight – our crops will be alright!
Another cycle begins!
1) Anthropomorphism 2) Simile 3) Metaphor 4) onomatopoeia
5)Synaesthesia 6) Personification 7) Sensory Imagery
8) Ellipsis 9) Homophone 10) Caesura 11) Pun
12) Alliteration 13) Rhetorical Question 14)Internal Rhyme
15) Truism
Written 20th August for Line Gautier Contest - A Litany of Poetic Devices
when i say stop
i lie awake
to feel myself cry to myself
first we say to each we love
and find a lie in between
fare that
fare
i like that word
it makes me grizzle
even when the coffee rings awake
you with that staring at me..
oh, i’m supposed to do what then
i’ll make us a bloody mary
only for us, besides
i’m on my period
and as always
you non-relent..
and i go more
than three doors down..
to knock again
Wer curthing in a briney brew
All gurglin’ such a slimy stew
Did mousey chap a laddle tilt
And fill his fizzog til owt it spewt.
Poor butcherin was seen at fault
The growly hag had bowed it owt
All eyes and nerdles floated ins
With scum on tip and squirky things
Gungey green with pursed haze,
The taste of such ner amaze
Glopular grizzle and snotty lumps
A wicked stench like ‘is ol pumps
4 and 20 guest were due
At half past now or wer it 2
Seatles set, naplings laid
A feastling on which deposits paid.
A pinch of twist, a corbage stalk
Perhaps a teeny weeny grit of snork
Just slick it owt, wince a bit
En grab a tizzle, lest it slip.
The festers there, best be quick
Light the cammbly thing sticks,
En turn down the sights
We’ll curse their senses, so no frights
Let’s brow out the glooping mess
With silver service, all fancifulness.
A roaring cheer a grand success
Crown im up a MasterChef.
Grizzle.
STOP!
Who goes there?
Who dares to come this way?
Mt name is Billy Watkins and
I've just come by to play.
PLAY, PLAY! Is that what you say?
I didn't invite you, did I?
Go away is what I say.
And Billy Watkins began to cry.
Stop, stop that sniffling and just
be on your way.
Don't dare to come near my front door
it's not a place to play.
I like the peace and quiet.
I do not care for noise.
More importantly you need to know
I don't like little boys.
So away with you Billy Watkins
go back from where you came.
Go tell your dad what I said,
by the way, GRIZZLE is my name.
The spirit of the gypsy
free as the wind upon the open road
Horse driven home on wheels
taking them where they decide
to rest their soul.
Families huddled by the camp fire
Story and tales shared from old
Hedgehog stew
simmering in the cauldron
Leftovers of grizzle and sinew
thrown to the pack of dogs to chew.
Musicians strike up an ancient tune
underneath the stars
with fiddles clicking castanets and guitars,
Young Gypsy girls dance and twirl
arms raised to the sky
With teasing flirting eyes
Dark skin long flowing black hair
showing off their wares.
Next morn at the crack of dawn
o the piece of green no gypsy can be found
the only sign they had ever been there
os the scorch marks left upon the ground.
'' Inspired by the wonderful poems of Gypsy's
by Cherl Dunn''
Peter Dome.copyright.2014. Jan.
Happiest memories are the moments with you
even thought of separation makes me blue.
Missing you with every tic-toc
a second without you is a deadlock.
The moment we come together is monsoon drizzle
bringing an end to the long-drawn-out grizzle.
Your smile is command of nature
when thee sneer, you make me nurtured.
Your laughter brings life to life
claspin’ the enemies, forgettin’ the strife.
WINDY DAY IN THE CITY
Strain unwillingly round the city street corner
Into flurry of police klaxon-horn or
Double-deck bus or hobo with beard a-grizzle.
Saddened people rushing in the drizzle,
Wet wind picking up, weather getting worse.
Breezy gust snatches a thousand leaves to disperse
From the autumn trees barely awake:
Sudden blizzard of giant golden snowflakes
Obliterates the wet sidewalks, paved with gold.
People smiling, surprised at it all, pause and behold,
Brush them off shoulders again and again.
Ah the glory of it. No one thinks of rain.
Never was a transformation done so well :
A heaven snatched from the jaws of hell.
In blanket shades of ash and grey
she stands to stir the night
with her arms crossed
in appreciation
of
nature’s call of liberation
present in the sea of life
that
appears caressing her sight
with imaginary fictions
in the ripples of waves that
gradually swim and grizzle across her face in appreciation of nature’s release .......
Those blue eyes-how pretty they seem!
Asif through is reflected a golden gleem;
With all these inherent music they remained still,
Till a blink from one did it with water fill.
The left face started to grizzle-
From the left eye tears began to drizzle,
The right face stayed as it was
Lack of unique vision as it reflects, Alas!
Was that due to some faliure or sin?
That caused the bellows of emotion rise higher than the eye rims-
But the other stayed still and neither did blink-
The ball of hope in it hath not yet shrunk.
Lot of nectar doth a rose contain,
Lack of unique vision of a bee may cause death is certain.