Short Clambering Poems

sand falls sweetly down
clambering over and through
in waves of the sea...

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Blossoming 
Effulgent sun proffers love 
Clambering… 

Ascending
Above the undergrowth…of
Thorns and weeds

Furtively
The moon unravels wonders
Glimmering...

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.     

     "With born"
The supple nymph
       prepares

           One
             t'
             t'
        SPLASH

   'pon mine ready
      clambering
 
    with hern wide
           eyne...

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A fat man while clambering up a tree
To pluck pears was stung by a swarm of bee
Alas! With a heavy thud, 
He landed in the dry mud
Bees stung on his limp prick and he couldn’t flee!...

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On a robust breeze, the sunset flares
through the ripe peach filtered clouds.

As they extend garish golden glaze
past bleached sands, salted corpses.

Cold crying of sailors washed clean
slipping off the clambering crabs....

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Takes in all of what she sees's
And so enthusiastically 
Leaps about, care free and heart felt
Longing to find a mystery or secret door
Under, over, clambering through her imagination
Lavender surrounds her in the hazy field
All is quiet, only the deepest sigh
Home bound on the shoulders of her father...

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Patio furniture dotting the curvature of Gaia's voluptuous breast
She smiles as it rusts while we war and we fuss
Clambering for what trinkets are left
She hums, coos and sings with each moment she brings
Selected from a chaotic choir
When she misses a beat
We all squirm in our seats
Vicariously feeding the fire...

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Of the public house,
I know nothing;
nothing of the
chipped walls and
clambering jazz,
or the joy that
washes over
everything like a
spilled drink

..only that there is
a girl, perhaps a
thousand miles away,
sitting at the same
table, while I am
alone in a bar
watching August fade
into an empty cup...

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On raised thorny stilts
Marbled lampposts, lifted eyes
Clawed leaves for soft filth

The spider grown fat,
And hard, and round, and callous 
Like hogs, blinds the sand

I know my species
The same purpose fits the flies
The outer shell lies

Barrels hiss with us
Clambering to scuttle time
Gravity's dead claw...

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between the pages of a rural world there is always us 
clambering for attention with hands mouth and noise 
gesticulating like a proud Italian, we run for every bus 
selling goods with salesmen talk and we never poise 
nor give a chance to silence, God forbid we should...

Copyright © Pixie Dust | Year Posted 2020...

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Daylight wipes its face.
I travel through a door
unlocking an attic of mind.

If I had a best pair of pants
I would wear them
but I have only the next to best.

Small unnamed birds
are clambering
over a heaped-up sky.

I may have to climb a little also,
my best boots are old
but they have been to the tops
and the bottoms
and know the distance between.

I have plenty of rope
new rope
rope as silver and sparkly
as the morning dew.
It will do....

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