A forest leaf, sways far from any man,
amid soft rustling, pleasant to the ear,
like footfalls as the woodland creatures ran,
and birdsong for a passing greenwood deer.
Indeed, the leaf life on a country tree,
with clean, clear waters and unsullied air,
and green and blue as far as he can see,
surpasses Cuz who spies me in my chair.
Yet, Cuz is smiling from his vantage point,
through the window as I write this odd stuff,
(no one would ever me, "Leaf Pro", anoint)
as he awaits my girlfriend, in the buff.
The woods have reigned through countless ages past,
but catch mankind today, for it won't last.
I looked at my toes in the bathtub
Imagined them curling around a tree
Gave myself a shoulder rub
Thought about primal ancestry.
The dentist removed my canine teeth
They reminded me of the wolf beneath
And when insurance took me off his list
I growled like a cheetah being dissed.
Was I just a wild beast?
Like a chimp finding a feast?
Like a bird singing with a mating goal?
Like an elk at a water hole?
I ran into a hostile guy
Said I had told a lie
Said I was a snake, a skunk
So I got into a funk.
Didn't I have a spirit higher?
Wasn't there creative fire?
Couldn't I get respect
for my curious seeking intellect?
Tell me someone tell me please
that I'm not a monkey in the trees.
Though there's a white oak in my yard
Its fun to climb, and not so hard.
So I'll embrace my inner critter
I won't be angry, won't be bitter
I'll transcend it when I can
And I hope you understand:
why when I try to sing a tune
I sound like a wolf howling at the moon.
Tall crane wades the pond
he spears a perch and swallows.
Look out for gators!
Smug, tricksey brownie
lies beyond that sunken log
blending in with the sleek mud.
She smirks when my fly snags
and thinks, "Serves him right for teasing."
Winner 4th Place: MASTERING MICROPOETRY Poetry Contest, 5/13/26, Nette Onclaud
Beyond the shades in the back garden awestruck
The bracken locked her shoot to the daffodils in the
After tea blooming in love with music of the eyes
So blue! So blue!
I get three shots
on an afterlife
when I come back
as a living thing,
I've decided,
but only if this world
gets better
and not worse.
I choose an assortment.
I choose mythical
and nonmythical.
First, I'll be a Marahute
and save those who save me,
or an albatross who sails
the sky with unfathomable care.
Second time around,
I will be a Secretary Bird.
She stomps around
like it's no one's business,
and she tramples over dinner
al dente.
Third time and last chance,
I will obviously be a mermaid
with everything perfectly proportioned
and enhanced, just for me.
I will choose to be
the most beautiful mythical creature
of my imagination.
I will see
everything
under the sea.
That is where
everything
shuts up.
I will only have my eyes
and an appreciative heart,
and amazingly long
rainbow hair.
The fish will
appreciate me.
Otherwise,
they will just keep swimming.
Either way,
I will have the sky, the land,
and the sea.
Off to work upon his bike
in early morning time
When suddenly confronted
with a loud spine chilling wine
He really was confused
what's the source of this alarm
Nothing sinister he hoped
to likely cause some harm
His heart was beating faster
as he pedalled with such fear
He never travelled faster
with the bike now in top gear
Then one day he saw the culprit
in the fullness of the light
He new at once it was the source
of his enormous fright
Suddenly it hadn't been
a figment of a nasty dream
A bird , the bush Stone Curlew, claims to be
the owner of the caterwauling scream
The bird is now revered
when it's heard throughout the night
Though sleep is sometimes ruptured
The bird is now invited, to screech with all his might
=] mused by OldPoetMK =]
*feel free to substitute her/them/those for ‘his’
** it’s my cultural/sexual blind-spot.
A sex object suddenly comes into focus
we’re all prisoners of that old neanderthal lust
it’s tucked behind the lizard-brain rust
in ready reach, just wipe off the dust
Is it his shape, his walk, his fust
that makes your loins feel about to combust
get out you smooth, and win his trust
prepare your prey, however you must
to accept your dandy, randy and desperate thrusts
.
.
A song for this:
The Men of Your Dreams by DJ Jazzy Jeff & The Fresh Prince
I'm grateful for Mother Nature's gift,
each little thing that gives my heart a lift -
a blade of grass, a pumpkin seed.
But does She really think I need
a cockroach and a centipede?
The turkey’s held up signs
Protesting the Parade
“We were here before the Pilgrims”
They sought back-up from the Pumpkins
“Where were you on Halloween”, they asked
A Deer in a red vest strutted across the meadow
An old Owl shook its head from front to back
It gets worse every year mumbled the hunter
As he loaded his slingshot
An escaped lab monkey
Built a fire in the distance
As a feral cat
Longed for home
Capybara song
cartel tries to replace pets
got stuck in my head
Adored by all the plants and trees,
but forsaken by his wife,
he loved the sound of a gentle breeze,
and gave the grasses life.
When she said, "time to mow the lawn",
he knew which side that he was on.
Fertile turtles ~
remove their girdles
Mother Nature gazed happily on her brood,
until one of them spoiled her mood.
Her smartest monkey was on the take -
"Could it be that I made a mistake?"
A brave sailor who sails the high sea
will aim knowing his aft from his lee,
but Brownian motion,
that fabulous notion,
works well for an amoeba like me.
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