my friend Fox
build box
another friend, Cap
produces trap
if Fox was a cap
and Cap was Fox,
every box would be a trap,
and every trap would be a box...!
Based on a Brazilian poem by Lopes and Lucas, author unknown...
Slopes of light dry powder means a snowy week of fun -
Keeping very happy those who love to ski
In the moderately cold weather on a day when the sun
Is shining in the sky. Yes, on the slopes they’ll be -
Not inside their houses! With goggles, masks and helmets, they
Get going to their favorite spot geared up for snow-time play.
Jan. 20, 2023
For Julia Ward's Skiing Poetry Contest
the nosy dog
that the street guards
is the cat's enemy...
Sinuous, cheeky cat...
On the roof is sovereign...
Dog and cat,
- captive animals-
of man are friends,
the man who is another man's enemy... !
PS poetic interaction of the poem modern fable poem written by
Arland Souza Lopes
in honor of the poet Alkas poetry
translation BY alkas poetry
Warmouth watches to the north, feeling the marauder’s eyes.
Her troops honor her stance with silence, in awe of her abilities.
The gift of prophecy is given to her prior to each battle.
She turns and looks at her lieutenant; he lopes off without a word.
This is the kind of relationship she has with her troops.
One of the newcomers is amazed at the prowess of Warmouth.
She is a force of one; the entire army respects her leadership.
She draws back her head and gives a long loud wolf-howl.
The battle has begun; the enemy is closer than the troop realized.
She draws back her dagger and heads down the hill to the north.
Her raven flies straight into the eyes of the other commander.
Screaming and slashing commence; it is a mighty fight.
The enemy retreats, recognizing the determination in Warmouth’s eyes.
She has backed off her third army in five months.
It is a record, but no one dares speak of it.
She is a leader who expects no praise.
Doing what she can to protect her clan.
She wolf howls her needs in a chilling voice.
Night listens, enthralled, yet terrified,
knowing she will take what she wants.
She lopes toward her prey, taking no prisoners
devouring those who irritate, anger or stifle her.
This she wolf appears the second the human's eyes begin flickering
In REM sleep, they leap over those who would thwart them.
Wolf howling comes from the bowels of their inner pain.
It is a sound that a spiritual entity cannot forget,
Even I am terrified by it.
And I am the she wolf.
Stupified I stare transfixed
The transmogrified beast stares at my mouth
He has my husband’s hazel eyes with gold flecks
He puts out his right claw. It is hoof like, gnarly.
I hesitate forty seconds too long
The beast flashes disappointment
With a howl he lopes off into the night.
I feel something hit me hard in the chest.
I gasp. My eyes flutter. I turn to look at my husband.
He is not there.
No more purple prince
who kissed himself
maybe just looked
purple through Jimi's haze
Are tha missing some respect
Chesters numb not even crawling
Amaze has its back to the black
I maybe curt
Never mind me
Janis has a hea
Eva and John seem stoned i imagine
Changes two pack of smokes
Someone gonna die
Big E's small cry
Oh it is easy to sit at the dock
The woodworkers daughter moved closer to you
RJ was cross at Rhodes
Lisa lopes about tears starts to fall
She's in need of tender care
but then again aren't you all.
An awful aardvark ate anchovies against all advice.
Besides belching beyond belief, he bit bitter banana boats.
Charlie Chimp cackled curiously, convinced
Delicious delectable desserts did damage.
Enormous energy engaged enthusiastic excitement
Frenzied friendly felines, forever forgiving
Greasy giraffes giving grievous gripes
Horsey happiness hiding hurt amongst hilarity.
Ignoring idiocy involved ignorantly,
Jumping jack-a-lopes jiggled
Kangaroo kindness keeping
Leisurely lions laughing
Merriment mesmerized monkey marines
Never notorious, nevertheless, nefarious
Octopus ostracized owls, ostentatiously,
Preventing Porcupines putting prickles precariously in patrons.
Quietly and quickly
Resuscitating rescued rabbits
Savagely sustaining simple seriousness
Totally terrorized
Underneath unique
Verbose velocity
Which worried
‘xtra ‘xtraneous
Zipping, zaggy, zebras.
Isaac Albéniz's Asturias, Three Versions, Three Instruments
I
By Andres SEGOVIA, guitar, 2006
Man lopes up mast-pole
Man lopes up mast-pole
Man lopes up mast-pole
And finds no maiden fair
Who mimes his Asturian air
II
By Andronicus, piano version
Man bikes up mountain
Man bikes up mountain
Man bikes up mountain
And espies masts far from there
Biscay Basques back with wares rare
III
By Florin Croitoru, violin-solo
Man runs up belfry
Man runs up belfry
Man runs up belfry
To count sinners in every square
Come to keep their bosoms bare
© T. Wignesan - Paris, 2018
Juan Marques Lopes
Juan Marques Lopes lives in Spain,
To move one day is his only wish.
Free himself of a poor life with his wife,
For he knows he can do better than this.
One hundred years have come and gone,
since the day that he was born,
To a Shepard’s daughter on a farmers land, he was her only son.
Three decades ago he received a bite to the neck
and thought he would die from the blood loss,
For the pain to stop and to save his own life,
he said he'd sell his soul whatever the cost.
One moment of weakness and his soul was the Devils,
To do as he pleased, just to not die like this.
Freedom from death must come at a price,
For a vampires thirst craves the deadliest kiss.
Juan killed all his friends then he killed his own family,
To feed his thirst for blood and for power.
Three times a day, he must feed on their blood,
For he sold his soul to Satan, this is his last eternal hour.
(C)2005 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
One lopes through
his dense tree occupied domain,
thinly dappled,dispersed stripes
gleaming,
dully on a soft fur coat,
tongue lolling lazily in and out of
a pearl toothed mouth
Another careens widely across
her vivid fields green fields
wind flapping back
watchful ears,
screeching to a stop to
sniff and
hone in on the scent
of a shivering quarry,
jet black fur shining in
blazing light
the last scampers neatly on
swift toes through
his unknown vine-tangled trails ,
ever exploring the lands
beyond his own vast territory,
unveiling whatever remains
covert to his curios mind
My dogs seem out of place
in my backyard
In my chest there lied undiscovered treasure
Forged in the heat of life's immense pressure
A heart that burns with a warmth of love beyond measure
Passion fuelled by the primordial oils of soothing rapture
I have sailed the seven seas in my humble abode
Explored the four corners of the globe in my android
I have navigated the infinite stars in my universe of neurons
Discovered a new one (me) hidden in the lopes of galaxies
The mind has seen what the eye cannot begin to imagine
The imagination stretched beyond the edges of the unknown
The soul has danced with phantoms to a melody never strung
And found my sound track back from a real life drama unsung
In me I rediscovered the banished son of a lost empire
A forgotten King who ruled with an iron fist of fire
They ride the range with horse and gun
Their backs are bent, their heads held low;
Their faces burnished from the sun,
They travel with wild winds that blow.
They go so fast with rope lasso,
To catch a cow that lopes alone;
They search the sky and kiss the dew,
The great wide earth they call their home.
Around a campfire they all feast,
On beans and bread they share;
With stories to tell more than the least,
They make their camp just anywhere.
Throughout the night they tell their tales,
Of hopes and memories from back home;
They pitch their tent among the vales,
To rest their heads so sleep will come.
Man with horse cannot be tamed.
They do not follow the host of rules;
The lives they live cannot be framed,
For they scorn the life of quiet fools.
Ablaze firmament
with captivating light blue...
a nacturnal's whim!
The luminous moon watches
the lonely pine on the hill
caressing a star;
while below, the quite town sleeps,
not seeing the painter's hand!
Inspired by von Gogh's painting," Nocturne "
Entered in Abe's Lopes contest, " Vincent van Gogh's paintings "
Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci
The Dik-Dik is an antelope
Who longs to be a misanthrope
But since he “pronks”, instead of lopes,
He doesn’t really have a hope …
* “Pronk” is the name of the dik-dik’s jaunty little bounce when he runs.
It is an Afrikaans description.
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