Cloaked in a fitting grey suit and bow tie,
She floats like paper kites across meadows.
From a hollow in a tree, her eyes pry~
Her loud hoot startles nearby sleeping crows.
The spectral owl, with her faint, surprised look,
Watches as the crows flee into the dark.
Then silence reigns, curbed only by a brook,
And chirps of birds in the dark forest park.
Within calm meadows nestled in the hills,
The great grey owl sights frogs, snakes, and mudfish.
She floats on broad wings, drawn by hunger’s thrills~
A feast just enough to grant her one wish.
As dusk gives way to the coming sunlight,
To a hidden branch, she flew for a nap~
To await the call of another night,
And avoid the birder’s photograph trap.
Categories:
mudfish, adventure, dark, life, metaphor,
Form: Rhyme
The day is industrial olive oil.
Mudfish thrash on the shores of thought.
I grin a lot with my eyes,
grinners return my eyes to me -
no one wants them.
The morning's dull certainty
haunts me like a lugubrious condor,
wet ropes of laden gravity
drag me around.
Nothing irritates me
more than nothingness.
Ghost-talk filters through
a sluggish ennui
even the ghosts are boring.
The mudfish have had enough,
they are heading back to the ocean.
They know it’s a rainy Sunday.
My sludgy shores are full of killer shrimp
waiting for the squelch
of something fresh to arrive.
Categories:
mudfish, poetry,
Form: Free verse
at the old fishing lake
In a kingdom full of whitefish
And the mussels are never filleting.
~
at the old fishing lake
I remember I was oystering
That moment my soul grew scalloping
~
And the estuaries never reefing
Mudfish - mudfish – mudfish!
The lagoon laughed
As I threw in my line
Surprise carp and catfish whaling and barks
Dogs chasing squirrels onto rotten logs
~
look at the water
into the pond bubble-bubble
circles swarms
~
my line gyrating slightly moving and bobbing
guess the fishes are biting
at the old fishing lake
6/25/20
WRITTEN WORDS BY James Edward Lee Sr. 2020©
Categories:
mudfish, analogy, engagement, fish, fishing,
Form: Free verse