Deep within the city park
stood Barnaby, a highly
grumpy, semi- sentient apple
tree.
He absolutely despised
when children approached
with fawning, goofy faces to
steal his fruit.
Whenever kids giggled and
reached up, Barnaby would
furiously shake his wooden
branches.
THWACK! A barrage of ripe,
juicy red apples went flying
like heat- seeking missiles.
He pelted the screaming kids
right on their bottoms, chuckling
a low, creaky laugh.
The children thought it was a
hilarious game and ran through
the park intentionally.
They made ridiculous,
exaggerated kissy- faces just
to trigger the tree's flying fruit
defense.
Barnaby snorted woodchips,
launching a rapid- fire green
Granny Smith straight at a
nose.
The park echoed with loud,
joyful snorts as apples
bounced harmlessly off
targeted bellies.
The grumpy tree finally
smiled, realizing his thrown
treats made everyone incredibly
happy.
The sea is a bit of a liquid brat,
always adjusting his white, foam hat.
He’s got no bones and he’s got no toes
but he follows wherever the north wind goes.
He’s a watery thief with a very long reach,
lifting every plastic bucket left on the beach.
He gulps down the sun like a vitamin pill
and never, not once, has the guy sat still.
He’s got billions of fish tucked deep in his pockets
and salt, crust stinging his old-water sockets.
He’ll roar like a lion, then hiss like a cat
but he’s mostly just loud and he’s mostly just flat.
He’ll tickle your ankles and tug at your shorts,
then mumble a rhyme through his bubbly snorts.
So give him a wave (if you’ll pardon the pun),
before he gets bored and outruns the sun.
French dog,
Dang hog!
Barks, moans
House, owns!
She whines
Food time!
Snorts loud
Draws crowds.
Long drools
Leaves pools.
Gets mad
Acts bad.
She loves
Best hugs.
Dusk is blinding, but champagne illuminates.
—Poet
Champagne Date at Purple Dusk
Purple champagne and candlelight.
Dusk’s hue through flutes; the beach forthright.
Butterflies; two chairs sink in sand.
Her crescent smile as moon takes flight.
They’ve been beached in gleam of dreamland.
Bashful lashes rise; sea tears land.
Bubbles rise to her nose; she snorts.
The chortle of horizon scanned.
Her twilight eyes - amethyst quartz.
His aquamarines, she supports.
Alas, rough and tumble, this date.
High tide and tension as he courts.
His romantic gesture isn’t late.
He’s new to this dame…and there’s fate!
Lips lock as they’re kind of tipsy.
Friends set them up on a blind date.
As cock of the walk and feeling cocky
I cocked a snook or two
derisive snorts more than cheeky
with a cock-a-doodle-doo
at her cock-a-leekie
and when she cocked an eye at me
on the moment's spur
I first cocked my hat
then cocked an eye at her
on a slippery slope downhill slide
absurd it was because
we were now both cockeyed
DOG CHASES TAIL
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
In circles goes the dog,
a furry whirlwind, tail a-wagging,
his nose to the ground, sniffing out the ghost of a bone
with no clue as to where he left it.
Ahh, the circle grows, and me thinks he’s quite mad!
Truth be told, that bone is a relic,
a trophy of nothing, a piece of yesterday's joy,
devoid of any savory delight;
yet, he’s bewitched
by the lure of that which once he had.
The quest persists, but time, the trickster,
plays its multifarious games.
Memory grows faint, but
the haze of longing remains
lost in the labyrinth of time.
Distractions dart by—a squirrel, a leaf,
But wait—what’s this? A flash of color
bounces by and the spell is broken,
the quest for the bone forgotten,
distraction wagging his tail.
And so he circles, a furry Sisyphus,
chasing phantoms in the grass,
he sniffs, snorts, and spins—
a canine circus act.
He seems to be the pompous sort;
looks down his nose at us and snorts~
"your poems are subpar
and only fit as char" ~
in the judgement of his self-made court!
Postscript: If the shoe don't fit don't try to put it on.
To date the snorthog
has only been seen
late at night in the bedroom
disturbing me and my dreams
first he hogs the bedclothes
then snorts up a storm
while I lie awake
counting sheep
trying to keep warm
but before I become
a grumbly old grouch
there is yet one solution
have him sleep on the couch
His eyes could pierce your soul and evaporate your spirit.
a stone face glare locked on his victim
trembling you turn your eyes from him
ever slightly...
A fist of lightning
strike of a foot in the face
you're on the floor
receiving hit after hit
his legs pin your arms
while tears roll from your eyes
He smiles that wicked smirk
of dominance.
You plea mercy
agree he's right
sorry how wrong you are.
He's up and satisfied
another victim
another victory.
You get up slow
humble
bow to him
look up into his dark black eyes
He snorts like a bull
and you flee
running out the door down the hall
and through the wall if must be
to escape him.
Wu Bi sits at ease in his desk
combs his thick black wavy hair
with his hand than cracks his knuckles.
and the girls all gasp and giggle
the boys look away
The teacher comes in
the class room.
Where is Su Yun?
No one knew
not a one
Wu Bi, handsome devil.
WORDPLAY
Scores of work to read and think deeply
Stores of enthusiasm can reduce steeply
Snores are heard and can attract curses
Snorts from a few less tolerant nurses
Sports offer very different entertainment
Shorts that sometimes lack containment
Shirts bearing logos of sponsors’ brands
Shires with accents nobody understands
Spires of churches that need renovation
Spares at the ready for every occasion
Spores of inspiration should be heeded
Shores with grass dunes, never weeded
Shares in publishing may remain frozen
Stares received if no works are chosen
Starts and endings complete all verses
October gallops in as stolid as a gray mare,
a blunt wind snorts furiously through autumnal trees.
Foliage rattles, but does not fall, it clings still
to green stems.
Appalachian backwoods have tough roots,
shod as they are into an earth salted
with a dark gritty ore.
Bears are foraging and reaping,
their black silky pelts clamber over gusting winds
to reach the furthest fruits
before first snows overburden stoic pines.
Today the sky is unharnessed
and racing at full tilt
It whips my raw lips like a wet mane,
it rears up to stamp down upon its own
animated onslaught.
I adjust my rucksack and reshoulder a shotgun
grin, eyes watering
caught under the stampeding gale,
buffeted now by its muscular flanks.
I need to bridle this striding wind,
to halter its headlong charge,
or better yet just surrender -
turn my back on it,
let it ride me
as we leap down from the hilltops
whooping it up like cowboys.
He learned so quickly how to not bring sticks and balls back
He seems to think when he puts his head down
there should be a bowl beneath it
Strained swell into a wells
Turning the nail
Hammering ahead
My legs stringed with tongued dog saliva
That tilt of his head where he pretends to know what Sit means I just don’t want to
Are you really gonna eat that without giving me a bit
Eyes that bo puss ots
would aawwww
His knack of wanting to go outside just as my head hits the pillow so far….
………………………… ahead
I
A
M
In another lane
Aircraft no more
It’s an ex
Plainly your not ready for this
but your humanoid alien kids are gonna love it
Am I still there
I sometimes ask
Sometimes in funny voices
If someone answers
the trickle of icicles caress along my spine
So divine
Nothing has a calmness to
A still just still
He snorts when he sleeps
And I mean all blown instruments being cleaned all at the same time by a sand blaster
Moose Encounter
In his element with eyes glaring,
The beast snorts out of his nostrils
Like a steam locomotive
All fired up, flaring!
On legs as high as my shoulders,
His front hooves paw the ground,
And the muscles flex
Beneath the thick, dark fur coat!
His head lowers,
Displaying a massive antler rack
(Swaying back and forth
With the bell almost touching the ground),
Preparing to do battle!
—I shudder and look to my escape.
Then, things turn for the better.
The bull moose realizes
I’m not the competition
Seeking a mate
And continues browsing
As if I weren’t there.
night yet clings
yet smothers the numb highway
breathe the wheel
sigh through the gears
wave-ride rubber after-shocks
follow the beam-eyed light
into the blossoming gray
adjusts to blacktop rapids
the sky is passing
it is now ahead of itself
convertible clouds weep dry tears
slip-slide the slick dark banks
with flickering wrists
A second light blooms
a small sun pastes itself onto distant white
a hooded bonnet shakes like a wet wolf
the horizon is now a mobile scaffolding
the whispering tread of a fast coming daylight
rushes into view, it snorts though a crystal vase
that the mind grips tightly
the roads blind ability
to avoid Niagara or the Grand Canyon
guides cold white knuckles
the drunk rocking of a back axle
warns you of a surfacing
unpaved parking lot
engine bones tick-over
articulate shuddering full stops
as they cough up stillness
here
at the end of
one half of a minute
and that is the third manifestation
of breathable light
jinxed souls i combat
each night laboriously~
snorting loud on bed
cognizant i lay
browsing mounds of ceaseless tasks~
drifting in my brain
fire flies breed in cheer
enclosing frame serenely~
rouses my spirit
i soar in night air
enthralling glimpses of stars~
steering halts at dawn
cycles thirsty dreamy thoughts~
as i sail on boat with snorts
10 June 2023
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