Short Ricochets Poems

door closed monk stands straight
                                        gold keys sun ray ricochets
                                    soul opens world breathes peace...

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Thundering paws pound the floors;
back flips off the walls, resounding.

Claws clicking floors as feline ricochets, 
down the hallway and back.

A cat with cabin fever,
after a long winter snooze....

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                      set for life 
                   
                  to be a success 
            takes an element of luck 
               a big sledgehammer 
                fortuitous ricochets 
       unlike me ~ know when to duck 
...

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secrets

some days
sunlight ricochets                             
plays hooky in the heavens
hides among the clouds

some nights
moonlight meanders
basking in cool soothing air
hiding in plain sight

sometimes
sunlight and moonlight
hang out on the horizon
hugging each other


John G. Lawless
8/15/2016...

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Song soars, dawn of day,
over fields gold with hay,
sudden rising melody.
Stirring balmy air,
heavenly fanfare,
giving summer therapy.

Lyrical bouquet,
birdsong ricochets,
a soulful “blues” remedy.
Skylark, debonair,
above our earth, fair,
create joyful fantasy.

Copyright, July 15, 2014
Faye Lanham Gibson...

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life is a playful flying fish..
   a dazzling glider that skims 
        and ricochets along 
             the surface of the sea..
                   on a silvery day..


sinks down, gone for a while
    but is seen once more..
        darting out of the water..
              playing forever more..
                    on a silvery day!...

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Tears of a shattered heart, quietly slipping unheard to a cold pillow.

Why? The question ricochets through long suppressed pain.

The trust of love given freely, the trust that dangles by a whisper.

A mind willing to mesh the truth with a lie to spare a fragile heart.

As mind and soul begin the treacherous journey to forgive,

The heart forgives the mind proceeds at a pace held back by reality...

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A-rush
In a feather ruffling frenzy
cooling the flamboyant sunrise
muffling the warblers
with waffling winds

chilling the audience
in an ice-like stare
your shivery essence
ricochets through the canyon

startles the cliffs
bellows amid the echoes
of yesteryears challenge
stirs a red dust devil

they call you cold, December
for they are frail
and cannot bear the sting
of Winter’s hoary kiss
...

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Blind discontent bets
    on favor of the gods
Nondirected energy ricochets
     back to the source and
tears apart

Dreadful vengeance bows
     to your bidding
     with pocket foggy
retribution

Roll over crisscrossed rage as
     aluminum pop tops tinkle
     on shaved black head
ebony living statue testifies

You did not pay attention.
      Hope left long ago on wings
       of the moment....

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and then buzzing starts below skin
shocks shoot along veins

I hold my arm 
a different pain today

it buckles the knee 
grinds the shoulder
it burns the elbow
gnaws the hip

I rub my back
a deep breath and sigh 
ricochets ribcage-aches like children 
playing at pinball machines

another new pain today
another old pain tomorrow
the everywhere everyday unsurprising surprise

and a spasm grips within muscle...

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Twilight tickles the moonlit canopy,
Where stars poke holes in the parchment sky,
And darkness slips into entropy,
As the Earth rounds the morning nigh.

The sun refracts what light it's given up,
To the moon who ricochets its gift,
And the planets before the belt lineup,
To cause a cosmic shift.

This is the midnight sepulcher,
In which our minds spelunk,
Into a cavernous awoken sepulture,
As into dreams we've dunk....

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.

joy is a playful 
flying fish

      a dazzling glider 
      that skims 

              and ricochets 
              along the surface 

                      of the sea
                      on a silvery day!



it sinks down, 
gone for a while

      but is seen 
      once more

             darting out 
             of the water

                    playing forever
                    on a silvery day!

....

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Often I am content to just think...
sitting still and using a mental
scatter-gun on my brain – seeing
where the pellets go, admiring
the splatter pattern, and, most 
important is what flies back – 
previously unknown to me.  
                           These are
the unintended ricochets that
make for interesting analysis – 

Once I saw the face of a past
life, looking fondly at me: “a
pleasure to meet you!” – I had
my reservations.......

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Burning Woman

I am watching
her embodied animation;
in exaggerated intonation.
Lightning ricochets about
in eyes
threatening to ignite my addiction.

I wish she would share her fire.

Brows invert; speech sharpens
A needle into my skull.

She is right, as always.

But this humble fuel will remain cold.

Then at night, when lights burn low,
I am left to rub sticks together
shoot inconsequential sparks.
Nothing will ignite her
until Morning comes....

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