"My Hairy Wild Petunia"
Likened
To lichen
Sphagnum
Mostly moss
Made moist
Dew do me
Kiss my
Lab ia
Good
Bi
Categories:
sphagnum, nature,
Form: Free verse
In a violent contumacious act
the rankled child smashed the terrarium;
the green shards of glass making an abstract
scheme on the tiles of the solarium.
Amid the sphagnum and the fertile dirt
sixteen years of tender growth lay dying
a single swipe with full intent to hurt;
the child listened to the mother crying.
Categories:
sphagnum, anger, emotions,
Form: Rhyme
Spring buds
Bursting
Like popcorn stuck on sticks
Raising my perspective to
Gallivant
In knee-high tickle grass
Nested
In the strew of stony rocks
Festooned
With sphagnum and lichen
Frothed with droplets
Of glistening crystal lather
Moored in glade and rill
Plundered in claggy stodge
Boggy green and juicy with rain
The jaunt sloshes with plunger feet
Air raids above
Signal
Whirring wispy winged ghosts
Bombers
Buzzzzzzzzzing
Skitting overhead
Barely black shadow fellows
Intent in reaching their target
Synced and signaled
Like flittering naked poltergeists
Aiming for a sticky sweet meal
Arms, legs ankles and necks
Covered or not
Stabbed with little mercy
In the trove of
Spring Buds
So Alive!
May 16, 2020
Categories:
sphagnum, flower, insect, nature,
Form: Free verse
The phantoms of Glen Affric call
from deep within the histosol,
where time and matter’s slow decay
of misty glen and ancient fray,
conceal Mackenzie ghosts in wait
with weapons drawn to greet their fate
of claymore blade; of Celtic cross,
to shed the blood of William Ross,
and stain the sphagnum bryophyte,
his soul to cut and extradite.
Amidst the whipping hilltop squall
is heard their eerie battle call,
where shadow soldiers groan and splay
upon the hazy, darkened brae.
As well, the loose of blood and spate,
to curse the earth and consecrate,
the peat to quench; the land emboss,
forever running red the moss.
Categories:
sphagnum, history, war,
Form: Rhyme
Scraped off the south-side of Old Tumble Falls
rigid rocks roll helpless down to an empty floor
no more holding roost high amidst cliffs kept
close final rays of her dying sun feathered
below sphagnum moss drenching burnt souls
held fast take more than they ever have gave
Turning with tides and skies to carry over burdened
thoughts of subsequently passing places left behind
sightless eyes downcast shamelessly listen intently
as a lone bluebird warbles a wistful departing song
ruffled hawk feathers float aimlessly in the breeze
and tomorrow's waterfall dreams slip silently away
Categories:
sphagnum, fate, imagery, song,
Form: Free verse
Sleep me, conceive me like sphagnum;
propel me to essence of death.
Seeing has put me behind the truth,
objectively.
Like centipede, fear crawls in deep blind cave
throwing the feelers.
The gene has faltered. No red lights.
A paw, a blackboard, white lines
message is not clear.
My absent candles are freaking in wormy
darkness, noiselessly. The solitude
trying to gather the words.
Listen to time clock. Past and future.
Present has held the lantern to see
the hands moving. Sound comes out
clearly from the prophets of galaxies.
I want to catch the winds
in my legs to blast the horror of life,
underside of the gnarled credibility.
The rains are coming.
SATISH VERMA
Categories:
sphagnum, life, love, peace, philosophy,
Form: ABC
I was a mosser
For many of years
Hard manual labor
Not what it appears
Sphagnum moss a life
For underprivileged some
A way to make a living
Not who you want to become
Working grueling hours
Amidst the dreadful heat
No indoor air condition
Gusts of wind your daily treat
Dealing with the elements
Biting insects and the rain
No cover for protection
Your body in constant strain
Filling orders daily
A deadline I must meet
Exhausted and in pain
As I try to beat the heat
Money received was fair
But not worth the endless pain
Another day of misery
With nothing left to gain
So wise up I did
An education I did receive
Fleeing a “sweat shop” environment
Body deterioration unable to retrieve
Moving forward quickly
Physical strength I now possess
Exhausting hard manual labor
Was never the key to my success
© Stacy Lynn Stiles
Categories:
sphagnum, introspection, life, work, education,
Form: I do not know?
T'was a warm summer's day, when I took to the trail,
to cruise that old black spruce, way down in the swale.
A gallon of bug dope was strapped on my hip,
which I figured would last me for most of the trip.
Down through the sphagnum I plowed like a moose,
a huffin' and puffin' and spittin' my snoose.
Then off in the distance, I heard a faint roar,
like B-29's coming home from the war.
The sky clouded over, so you barely could see,
"They're mosquitoes! "I cried, and they're coming for me.
They flew by me once and past me again,
a-flexing their stingers, before they moved in.
I grabbed for my bug dope and spread it on thick,
just hopin' and prayin', it would do the trick.
They came at me fiercely and punctured my hide,
But before they could drink much, they dropped off and died.
I thought to myself, "What type of bug dope is this?"
The mosquitoes all had smiles on, as they lay there in bliss.
After checking the label, I saw my mistake,
t'was the 100 proof whiskey, that Uncle Jake makes.
Categories:
sphagnum, cowboy-western, funny, nature, me,
Form: Ballad