Doris had not seen that teenage girl scowl for over twenty-five years
But here it was again,
Staring down her mother
Her daughter asked Doris, “Have you ever seen such a face?”
She could not stop laughing.
When a swaying wind gets mad,
It’s addressing what is sad:
I‘d wanted to say ‘The Bad ‘
As stained as hating one’s dad
And as gross: dumping one’s lad
For losses through care of wad:
They’re crimes with stings of a bee:
The bestial we pay its fee…
An Eve a face reserves scowl
And the wind maintains its howl,
For having its motive seen:
A future like horror scene…
The startling sight of green leaves
Us consoles over what grieves.
Don’t their wrought dances of grace
Reduce the heat of men’s race?.
Note I Nature gratifies
More than kitchen satisfies.
never desire
a reluctant umpire
fire and retire
had premonition
determined by dimension
what we must mention
fielder looked like owl
who was player on the prowl
on face had a scowl
older was player
who had become much grayer
which was hard to bare
ball thrown was last strike
heard after announced on mike
had to take a hike
after making probe
had an earring in each lobe
while wearing a robe
wages first meager
than became a big leaguer
with enormous figure
Howling wind, calls out sad and longing,
sighing solemnly through the trees.
Not threatening, but showing off its gusts,
warning of gale building up, with storm looming.
The howling is sad and threatening, like a lone wolf crying for company.
Now the wind roars breathy in the trees,
which bend yielding to the force, but resilient in submission.
The howling is haunting in its caress,
foreboding with its insistent persistence to get in.
Seeping through the cracks of shuttered doors and windows
stifling comfort and landing buffeting blows on peace and calm.
The howls surge and wane to whistling sighs and exhales.
The howls come and go, irregular and unpredictable.
No choice, but to wait it out, regaling, and enjoying
the sound of howls raging outside, not within.
No need to scowl, to the howling wind, while the roof holds.
YOU? Why are YOU up in here, all on the prowl,
looking closely at me, causing me to scowl?
DUDE, can't you see anger set in my jowls?
I just arrived brand new, so I still remember
how my last life ended one cold September
when someone - YOU - forgot to yell timber!
Are you listening, seeing this face, witnessing
my expression of disdain as loathing clad?
You scad ... what, huh .. what DID new Mom call you?
NOT grandad, no - no, that cannot be true.
You and me, related .. that I cannot do.
The angels must have placed this wee doodad
on the wrong heavenly infant launchpad.
Oh, me, just great - I'm already living mad.
And the sky brightened and the moon sang songs.
The mood setting fraught with many more wrongs.
Anne wore dark sunglasses.
Music’s like molasses.
The full moon kept her up all night long.
3/2/2018
Scowl from a Fowl
Everybody had been saying their blessing
Started to eat turkey filled with dressing
Along with some salad and cutup tomatoes
And my favorite which is sweet potatoes.
Ate crisp piece of bread without crumpling
Discovered how much I liked apple dumpling
Which is what we had towards the end
And turkey wishbone we tried to bend.
Longer the length always better the luck
And a turkey I never have tried to pluck
When it stopped running all over the place
He was left with terrible look on his face.
Teeth loosened as days of life did increase
And we ended up eating macaroni and cheese
Never again to see a face with a big scowl
Worn by tough turkey who once was a fowl.
James Thesarious Hilarious Horn
Retired Veteran
www.poetrysoup.com
Name: jthorn5656
Password: *soldierboy*
In asterisks and one word
in small letters
Sad clown, twisted scowl
Broken frown under misted cowl
Hateful grin, stubblepit chin
Eyes that spin, no next of kin
Forsaken old troll, asleep in a hole
The joke’s on him, the prognosis is grim
Don’tcha laugh…at this clown
He’ll take you down
Don’tcha laugh, nope no way
And alive you might stay…for today.
Let him be
Let him be
.
cracle of dry twigs
cracked the stillness,
the quiet of April's
blistering noonday
gray owl flew out
from dense foliage
into sun's fiery glare,
losing, finding its way
it flapped noiselessly
upward in slow spirals,
scowling down, then
soared far away, blindly!
.
the crackle
of dried twigs cracked
the steep stillness, the quiet
of May's blistering noonday;
gray owl,
from the dark foliage,
flew out into the sun's glare,
losing then finding its way;
noiselessly,
it flapped upward,
in slow spirals, scowling down,
then, blindly, soared far away!
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