She woke up to a sunrise;
Bright in her eyes as she rose
She stares at the moon as it disappears.
The red hat sitting on her dresser,
As she picked out her daily dress.
Brushed her hair, sprayed perfume-
Still, something was missing.
The girl followed the echoes of her mom’s voice;
Alerting her of the time rush.
As she waited for the bus, the sense of incompleteness
Overweighed her.
Right then, her mom lent her the red hat.
A slight grin crosses her lips
As she outfitted herself with the red hat.
From then on, she’s never felt incomplete
Nor forget the red hat.
Inquisitive sorts enigmatic notions as positions--scaled left for the right-hander--behold various perceptions, thus preserving perfection as a cure for misdirection's subtle draw.
Earnest forgivingly weakens its posture as truth betrays, incredulously, amidst reality outfitted in non-traditions; Judas kisses a face, while the strummed favors oils embrace a straining revelation that pleasures the muted.
Distractions of another sort muse the ne'er-do-wells, while diligence inks the lost, ambulates ambitious quill of risqué 'Olympia' whose indecency is shaded decently.
Tryst loses in translation, forms anew in an altered view; observant exposed a chapter; a spilled review cores a novel of two; meeting of the minds formed upon a ruinous and trifle distraction, whereto whenever praise ventures, "A dull knife makes a cutting edge."
I am getting myself a retail therapy cat said my aunt.
I met one once, and I am telling you that you simply can’t!
She had made up her mind and brought home Mrs. T.
A well-dressed cat that was persnickety, stuck-up and snooty.
She won’t speak to me and she puts on airs, said my Aunt Lee.
I told you not to bring one home I said, laughing a bit with know-it-all-glee.
Mrs. T was outfitted in round dark shades with white rims.
Her leopard cape was elegant without any kind of extra flair or trims.
She was carrying a black patent leather purse when out popped a mouse.
The creature was wearing a mink pillbox hat that outclassed our house.
A mouse too! Said my aunt. What on earth was I thinking?
The mouse ran up into a wall and died there, so now things are stinking.
Our lifetime is a living fabric that we all adorn
Experiences and interactions vary with all seasons
The threads filled with promises we've all sworn
Outfitted with various triumphs and treasons
Full of knowledge, it becomes tattered and torn
Yet filled with strength for unimaginable reasons
In the end, it will be there when all that's left is to mourn
Willburger Zee never felt like he fit in with his family.
How much unalike as them could he possibly be?
His accent was different, his language was a new way.
None of them understood him at the end of a day.
It’s not like he felt disrespected, just misunderstood.
How could these people relate? He wished that they would.
When he aged out at thirteen, he understood at last.
For memories of his planet came back hard and fast.
He had been sent in a space ship pod, all by himself.
From a planet in the next galaxy named McZigger McElf.
He discovered his space ship pod, and found his way back.
What do you think? Asked his daddy. Do we need to attack?
Earthlings can be awful, Willburger Zee readily admitted.
But before you get the armies coated and outfitted,
Know that there are a few who are kind and loving and nice.
So, the king spared our planet on his sage son’s advice.
Faerie Glisten heard the news of the disaster
She tried to fly their fast, but her sister was faster.
Together they held up lights, trying to save as many as they could.
They stayed out in the water for hours seeing floating pieces of wood.
I think we’ve helped all we can, her sister admitted.
She gave up the search and ran off to get her trousseau outfitted.
Faerie Glisten was not ready to give up quite yet.
Even though her wings were damp, and her gown was wet.
Almost no noise was coming from the water, but she felt a presence.
So, she waited, putting her ears on hyper-alert, ready to help.
“I see a light!” a voice said. She held it up a bit higher.
“It’s a faerie!” the voice said. “We are saved!” She was overjoyed.
Her sister told the story later to whoever would listen.
You should have seen me and my sister Faerie Glisten.
We felt someone was there, so we waited in wet dew,
And guess what? We ended up saving another two.
The colorant of dawn, the cardinal sees,
intoning its hues with, “pretty...pretty...pretty.”
As I covet red feathers, in the teaberry tree,
the sunlit chickadee harmonizes, “hey sweetie.”
The woodpecker like a heckler is pining for laughs -
pounding, drumming the marionette for gaffs.
A tufted titmouse tweets, “peter...peter...peter.”
The goldfinch dines on dandelion seeds, lilting sweeter.
Outfitted with winsome wildlife, comfortable and commodious,
my small bit of forest resonates with songbirds, melodious.
I have a lovely daughter, who is a lovely mess,
for every rule you give her, she will have to test.
She’s always just inside the lines or balanced on the top.
She loves to challenge all the rules to see how they will flop.
My favorite of her hurdles was the school uniform,
and she was delighted to best this strict form of norm.
A uniform would be an insult to her fashion sense.
As her mother, I suspected the rules would soon be mince.
She wore exactly what they said: khakis, belt, white top.
You've probably guessed, though thusly dressed she did not stop.
Smiling like an actress in a play,
she wore a striped scarf with red beret.
Her belt was wide and trendy,
her shoes, black boots to knee.
A voguish olive blazer was her “coat.”
Stylishly outfitted
and with the rules outwitted,
the books she carried seemed a lighter tote...
The "book bag," after all, was a fabulous new purse!
and...
Her creative conformity sent the principal to the nurse.
There is something to be learned here, as I reflect on this bright girl.
Without the rules before them, there’d be no rebels in the world.
11/2/2018
Form = Free Range Verse
The Hunt
Mans desire to hunt
Testing skills from the beginning of time
I had outfitted myself the day before
With camouflage, and all the tools of the trade
The excitement of catching my prey
Outwitting my fellow hunter a plenty
Tracking for hours and hours on end
Off I went in search of the trophy
In my jeep and down the hunters path
Being not so familiar with the terrain
I often backtracked, here and there
Moving from one place to the other
Silently and with anticipation
Looking forward to bringing home my kills
I had already a few scores to my name
Now for the final
The pièce de résistance
That made the hunt all the worth while
Bang! I got it
Hunts Tomato sauce in Isle seven
Oh how good the spaghetti dinner will be
Hope she appreciates all the fine hunting you see
I have done at Wal-Mart to make this evening show
Candles and guitar in the shimmering moonlight
The hunter so proud for being her shopping Knight!
As he walked,
Breathed,
Talked,
Sneezed,
The root of all evil was indeed marinating deep within him,
A natural seasoning,
A cue for treason,
Short side of critical reasoning,
His attire was outfitted for any season,
His shoes covered many miles,
He supressed plenty smiles,
The eradication of the same breath he enjoys
dazzles his need to cause
pain and suffering.
He likes to be the Big Bad Wolf,
Follows his prey and performs a Houdini act,
Dangerous is an understatement,
Violence and cruelty is the aftermath,
He doesn’t know any better,
Desensitization at its finest,
He takes pride in adding the minus,
He takes pride in fulfilling his addiction to adding the minus.
Suited in great attire
With superb shape and perfect form
When you see through
Naked emotion hidden in rhythm
It stirs the beating heart.
Dressed in sophisticated words
Sharp and bright
Clad in imagery and intelligent thoughts
Rhyming with good reasoning
Fitting tone and matching style.
When you begin to play with thoughts
Embedded in expensive fashion
There is a price to pay
Outfitted with costly devotion
Bringing tears to the eyes
And questions to the seeing mind.
As you peel away layers of metaphor
They come deep down to
A single body of thought
And a vivid image emerges
That is expressive and unique.