A mottled feather glides,
then pirouettes to the forest floor.
Above me a deeply depressed owl
plucks at its plumage.
Birds of prey are too intelligent
their eyes swivel on lit-up neurons.
Sometimes it all gets too much,
what with the constant hunting,
surviving, keeping warm enough
to kill and avoid being killed,
raising ungrateful owlets.
I pick up the lovely feather
stick it in the hatband of my fedora
walk on whistling light-heartedly.
The owl watches me strolling away
with a very peeved owlish glare.
Categories:
owlish, poetry,
Form: Free verse
i wish
i could be a bird
owlish in my dismissals
giving chase to not one fleeting memory
while turning my gaze ahead
eyes and focus fixed
wings extended wide
winds lapping
upon my soaring spirit
a greater freedom remains elusively unknown
the time of your life —
is a lifetime spent within every moment
Categories:
owlish, bird, freedom, life, philosophy,
Form: Suzette Prime
Cruising southwards to LA from Sac
a midnight filled with songs ‘n Luna,
light-etching hills in a black infernal…
It was a leviathan’s back on which I
felt the tires unrolling a chilled grief ~
Owlish-full, a hypnotic moon, ‘n Dido
reminiscing tunefully about surrender
negating white flags and loves forlorn...
Inside the eye, a wispy face smiled hi
and gently slid open a papery fusuma...
Dazed, I held her gaze, so undead
Round face framed in softest ether
exhaling cool peppermint to inhale ~
Amaranth rains of fleeting gardenia,
mildly-scented dawn's astral gloam ***
(11/2/2020)
Categories:
owlish, allusion,
Form: Free verse
Owlish wisdom
Prophetess sees
Treats delicately
Bides her time
Gently watching
Soul’s auras
Recognizing danger
Keeping counsel
Startled dark ones
Leave vicinity
Recognizing owlish wisdom
Fearing prophetess
Categories:
owlish, wisdom,
Form: Free verse
Scratchboarded stars of liquid light pouring in like rain
beneath the cupola of heaven one sentinel of night
A solitary figure stilled by the mutany of a willful hoot
his head is bowed as he listens, pressed to the dark
A Universal ensemble of nightly vocation, owlish wise
he knows not to disturb the hour, as he turns right on time
Earthly vibrations of the lowest kind everyone is sleeping
but not everyone is blind, head bowed he listens to ...
Insiped in velvet with browny eyes of amber flame n' light
beneath the humdrum moments of nocturnal sweep,
the owl breathes, where no man has yet trespassed
the owl heeds, through ebons of nocturnality-delights
Scratchboarded stars of liquid light pouring in like rain,
beneath the cupola of heaven the Sentinal, of night.
Written by: Mystic Rose 5/18/2019
Scratchboard Painting Photography
By: Nathan Cole . coletop10@gmail.com
Categories:
owlish, appreciation,
Form: Free verse
Hospital forest pricking me not so lightly
Owlish creatures staring at me
Not as a person
but a body
One they knew they could not save
But they needed for experimenting
I flinched whenever I saw them
Knowing their intent was to pretend
They were not there to hurt me
Devil's Minions
Doing his work, evil in their hearts.
Just one little pinch, they would lie
Hoping I would hate them
Not to worry, I did, as they took parts of me daily
Sleeping here was impossible
Whirring machines, laughter of nurses who had no one
to speak to in the day time
Sleep interruption an hourly thing
Here is a new one
Waking me up out of a sound sleep
Devil's they are
Heathens
Infidels.
Hospital forest.
Where the
Evil ones
lurk
Categories:
owlish, sick,
Form: Free verse
Remnants owlish wisdom wafts through nighttime’s purple sky.
Fox settles down with her kits, against a nurturing oak stump.
Meadow and forest perform their nightly slumbering rituals.
Vigilant deer mama is resting in a bed of fescue next to her fawn.
Fireflies blink sheer happiness, laughing in Morse code.
Owl’s successive tri hoots are followed by coyote’s excited yips.
Forest and meadow slowly close their eyes, under the bright stars.
The day relinquishes her responsibilities to night, gladly.
It is a magical time when day and night greet each other, happily.
Categories:
owlish, 6th grade, 7th grade,
Form: Blank verse
Animals animals all we are
Have come from the jungle that's oh so far!
Happily happily we came dancing here
With many lessons that you all have to hear.
I am the ferocious lion king
The song of Valour is what I sing
Never take a step back in times of peril
Be always a man of pride and virile.
I am the mighty elephant here
I do have an empathetic ear
It's always good to stay grounded
Family turns your life fulfilled.
I'm the little squirrel in the burrow
Unfailingly active in every high and low
Vigilance and resilience are my innate traits
Your effort, I say, opens all the gates.
I am the restless naughty monkey
I am ingenious and witty
Fun and mischief are so vital
In a serious lifestyle for a quick revival.
I am the curious cub of the bear
My mom is so strict and fair
She taught me the way to make an owlish choice
And to always listen to the clever mind voice.
Animals animals all we are
Have come from the forest that's oh so far!
Oh dear humans! You're the best of all
Live and let live breaking the wall.
Categories:
owlish, kid, kindergarten,
Form: Rhyme
Creepy
Oozing
Pimply
Witchy
Ominously lit by bonfire
Grabs me to throw on hot coal pyre
I run
I jump
I yell
I scream
They drag me back kicking and hitting
I refuse to stop, never quitting
Drug her
Mug her
Smack her
Crack her
Alert, I refuse to go easy
They let me go, my stomach queasy
Owlish
Foul-ish
Smelly
Bad stuff
I feel quite grateful, big and rough
Glad Mommy taught when to be tough.
Categories:
owlish, light,
Form: Tyburn
Willy was a thief of Baghdad
One night he stole a pen from dad
Dad called the police
Willy looked owlish
Poo-tee-weet-too he vanished so sad
THIEF OF BAGHDAD: LIMERICK /Copyright © RAJAT KANTI CHAKRABARTY 11/17/2014
Categories:
owlish, fun, nonsense,
Form: Limerick
My mortal soul meets an Immortal Angel
My dark Angel, of a specie , so rare
Beautiful within, dark only in shell
Your pretty Owlish eyes erase my fears
...
Your smiles soothe my spine, like fogs do on hills
Esteemed hills, cuddling cold and chilly clouds
Your thought kills and heals my heart with sweet pills
Your saint touch Confines my worries to shrouds
...
On your wings, Angel, I steal Flight
Sights of your winking balls, float me asky
My dark Angel, with glows of torchless lights
And cherubic affluence that golds cant buy
Categories:
owlish, beauty, love,
Form: Quatrain
The ox and the moron kidded each other
with crazy questions one lazy afternoon:
"Tell me, oh, witty Moron,
what is an oxymoron?"
"That's easy, owlish Ox,
why, it's a paradox."
The ox shook his head and mooed:
"Guesses are far too many,
but the only answer is irony."
To which the moron gamely retorted:
"I disagree. Using hot flatiron, to me,
that is irony!"
The ox stood his ground, grinning:
"Oh, yeah? And a paradox
is but a solo parade of an ox?"
They laughed till they cried, till a deafening
silence exploded and died,
Meekly, together they asked the afternoon,
"Aren't we the oxymoron?"
Categories:
owlish, allegory, animals, funny, imagination,
Form: Personification