Short Plunking Poems

Plunking sound of rain
On a tin roof, inviting
Nature’s lullaby...

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Polite Pink 
Perhaps a not-so perfect princess
Performing particularly pathetically

Persuasive Pink 
Promoting purple
Pink, plunking piano 

Passionate Pink 
Photographing Pink
Perhaps playfully probably philosophically

Playful Pink
Prancing, painting, proofreading,
Pink is Me....

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Plunking two twin babies down in the berry patch now
They are being stared at by some animals, namely a cow.
She is watching them closely, more curious than a cat.
They look up into her eyes and want to play patty-cake-pat.

This spring air is great to get the twins ready for a nap.
I should take one too, it would sure be a snap.
They rarely sleep all night, and I am needing more sleep.
I watch them dig around in the berries, but do not make a peep....

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The most beautiful morning I have ever witnessed. 
Mesmerising expanse of cumulonimbus clouds. 




Pull me up there. 
Keep me alive or make me dead. 
I want to fly up in the air.

Misty clouds plunking down from the celestial dome. 
Oh! gravity is losing its control.

I want to glide through the clouds, evanesces and shines.
Pull me out of this cage. 
Free me from this incarcerate.
I want to write on your grey slate. 
Let me come up,  let me gyrate....

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This poem doesn’t want to get written.
It’s fighting with all that it’s got.
Apostrophes, commas,
Their daddies and mamas
Are joining to give it a shot.

I’m dragging each word that’s resisting
And plunking it down on the page.
So every letter
I’ve forced, with a fetter,
To take its place up on the stage.

This poem didn’t want to get written.
Its protests were lusty and loud
But the pencil I wield
Made hostilities yield
For the poet’s compulsion’s unbowed....

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