Short Poke Out Poems

Running along a grassy land, the wind howls past,
but I stay hot and forget all else.
I sprint at speed, my feet dodging stones
and other objects that poke out from the earth.

Then stopping, I look over the valley
covered with streamlined tree all somewhat peaceful
and at ease somehow with the driving gales.

I don't smile, but I gaze entrapped,
in a world of amazement at such beauty....

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FEET

When I hear the tick, the gong
Too long?
Too short?
I mumble, “Too damn long!”

Cold feet, raw,
How they poke out
And not enough blood to withdraw

Hah! A marathon,
Kick the can, the dog, the football,
90 yard run!

They were always too big, with moles,
Too clumsy, too heavy,
In the 30s, that fat kid with paste-on, rubber soles

Wouldn’t it be just too intense – 
Toe jam and all –
If they were the last thing sensed?

Dave Austin...

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How strange this year has been. You see,
in my front yard’s a special tree.

By April seventh or about
the 10th, at least, its blooms poke out!

My prettiest of trees by far -
like fluffs of cotton its blooms are.

This April has gone very fast.
No blooms appeared as days flew past!

But on this 28th, with glee,
I saw the blossoms on my tree!

Written April 28, 2023 when I saw the blossoms.
For  A Brian Strand Premiere No 1216 Poetry Contest...

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