The fountain flows as music plays.
A harpist plinks the water strings.
The fluidity in blue-white rays.
The winsome melody of water wings.
1/17/2023
Categories:
plinks, music, water,
Form: Quatrain
Moment after moment
Time drained into the void
The water waned dry
As drought vehemently annoyed
...plenty
The juxtaposition of the River
Sliced reason to bleed
Garments of value
Snagged on a broken reed
...trust
HAH!!!
Space between sorrow and suffering
Are plinks of relief away
Never lasting to create
False safety in a glorious day
...'round
FLAT...FLAT...Freakin' fat
Every dream, every vision
Lies on this drained River bed
Every hope, every promise
Are resources, unattainable, natural
...but, I'm lead
A stone, bright, baffled, like earth
Lying in the red, clay, silt
I gather my tools about the jewel
Digging, lifting, seeing what LOVE built
...in me
AGATE
Written by Trudy Schrader on 08-21-2022
Categories:
plinks, love,
Form: Rhyme
Day dawned dank grey.
Sky pre-washed to ashen, cuddled in.
Cats on tippy-toes dipped their toes in puddles
stalking prey, huddled to pause, slumbering in.
Birds ruffled dew drop spots from feathers,
distracted to pause their prattle tattle calls
by the gloom of low slung clouds engulfing the din.
The dank cupped hands of horizon clouds
called for hush in prayer
to say grace with the morning gathering, all misted-in in fog.
The dewy gossamer mist turned to gentle rain,
almost embarrassed
to fall with pitter-patter plinks and plops
echoing from puddles, leaves and panes.
The shower done with its drenching, quenching drizzle,
passed overhead
and curtain-called the sun to get up,
to stand to attention,
and to herald the day
to get on with its business.
Categories:
plinks, day, sun,
Form: Free verse
sleep plinks into deep
dark caffeine — a mug helpless
to stay awake
1/9/2020
Categories:
plinks, sleep,
Form: Senryu
The patrons moved by her angelic harp, never knowing her endless suffering...
FALLING
her silver harp
plinks and plucks
her mind dull
with angel hair
falling
her satin white robe
darkened with soot
the sole of a pimp
imprinted on it
with fine print
underneath
“keep playing”
her calloused fingers
plink and pluck
ground down to the nub
a puddle of blood
at the harmonious base
the symphony hails her
as a progeny case
“she never stops playing”
the fame of this place
like a cornstalk grows
the crowds ballyhoo
as ethereal crows
stalk
‘tis hell for her
as they cheer and praise
her mangled tears
falling
on deaf ears
the spirits magnify
this lost cause
with never ending applause
she begs with her feathery tongue
“please, please, please”
but they cackle with black strap molasses brew
the brouhaha of her superior selection
strums and slices
delicately ices
her fate
6/18/2019
Categories:
plinks, abuse, angel, dark, music,
Form: Free verse
The malady
Knocks on my door
The hall is empty and bleak
Dark doors keeping secrets
I tape a spoon against a wine glass
Its plinks sings from room to room
Looks for and outlet
Settles like dust on book shelf
As residues of unspoken words
I hear children in the street jubilant voices
Pain subsides
Get out of my chair slowly, a battle won
Categories:
plinks, absence, age, art,
Form: Blank verse