Short Pitting Poems

What talks
in
a 
plankton’s 
wriggle? 
Weaving unseen 
whirlpools, 
pitting puddles 
(soaked, a mellow, 
afternoon shine)- 
lashing and 
curling 
like 
a sleek
blade, 
cutting into 
rotten green , 
perhaps, 
blowing 
a bugle- 
like 
a shriek 
lost 
in 
the chasm....

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young fearless daredevil surfers appear at costa de prata in the winter
pitting their skills against the colossal waves that break off Praia do Norte
confident they will be the one who survives, they are invincible right?
I stand on this beach, clutching my heart and my throat, danger aware....

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cheerful with cherries
sending the pits
scurrying into a bag

passionate red
sweet juice
like love’s nectar

round gems, plump.
their vacuous space
hide Cupid’s arrows

oh joy of each bite
blissful prayer
better than candy

pitting takes work
yes marriage too
worth it - mais oui!*

7/4/2018

*but, yes...

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Oh to be sailing over the sea,
hull down, with the shore on the lee.
Hearing the sound of water dashing past the hull,
and the mournful cry of a ravenous gull.
Pitting ones skills against natures wiles,
not another soul in sight, for miles, and miles.
Then come the end of the day,
dropping anchor in a small secluded bay.
Relaxing in the cockpit, supping a drink,
watching the sun, as below the horizon it doth slowly sink....

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Oh to be sailing over the sea,
hull down, with the shore on the lee.
Hearing the sound of water dashing past the hull,
and the mournful cry of a ravenous gull.
Pitting ones skills against natures wiles,
not another soul in sight, for miles, and miles.
Then come the end of the day,
dropping anchor in a small secluded bay.
Relaxing in the cockpit, supping a drink,
watching the sun, as below the horizon it doth slowly sink....

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i’ve been s-coffing quite a lot lately ~ i think perhaps i’ve got a s-cold 

said menippean to the rhymester ~ s-pitting out helios as he s-trolled 

                               —————————————

     a fair straightforward non rotating ~ syllable counted monoku 
          #.                                  #.                                #
even the maggots are important ~ grow wings and persevere with life 




By
David Kavanagh...

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Based on painting by Bev Doolittle: Woodland Encounter

American West in Camouflage

Two Indians* hide, in the birch forest,
         and ride their pintos, hooves pitting the snow.

Conspicuous - red fox in clearing - sights
         quiet stride of hide and seek…trenchant ears

at peak performance in centralized cope
         …sentient sentinel highlights canvas.

3/28/2022
Bite Size Poem #41
Sponsor: Line Gauthier

*Native Americans...

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I meet with three faces
   that come in the night

In dreams that preplace, 
  masks of darkness and light

Their voices once spoken,
   remain in my head

Until words are then written,
  pitting joy against dread

These triplets were born
  in a harrowing storm

Only quieting down,
  if new offspring are born

And then able to sleep,
  once each orphan is named

Their breath I still feel,
—in the twilight reclaimed

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2014)...

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Obsession 

Oh to feel the wind in my face,
hearing the sea, as past the hull it doth race.
Being hull down, at thirty degrees,
heading for a distant port, under a favorable breeze.
Pitting ones skills, against natures wiles,
being in front of the fleet, by a couple of miles.
Taking the family out, for a picnic in the bay,
teaching the grandkids, how to sail, and play.
For me my boat, she is my favorite possession,
Yes sailing, you can say, it is my  obsession. 

 Tango ....

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