The Fence
I’m on this side of the fence
And the animal on the other, whence
I perceive its cunning is intense
And appetite aroused by my presence.
Its docile, immobile stature
Dominated by an icy stare
Alerts me to the carnivore’s nature
If this separation weren’t here.
Eye to eye, our curiosities meet
As time hovers between the variances.
I contemplate wanton cruelty,
Whereas the predator desires freedom.
My resolve is disillusioned
When the big cat swipes and growls,
Which pricks my spine hair to stand on end;
I am afraid, whereas the lion is not.
My free life is a bargain.
A gap in time, she bellows.
A right to be defenseless!
Where's the body for the fray?
She swipes at her air guitar,
vocals screaming possession
by genies in brown bottles.
IVs and deathbeds
Line up like grocery carts
In a parking lot
Pushing daises up
From deep below the Earth's crust
Unstable terrain
I see nothing in
Where darkness is musical
And leads me nowhere
I'm an old man now
Looking up at the youthful
Young whippersnappers
Celebrating life
Over a blanket of clouds
That I crawl upon
Celebrate all life
Under a blanket of clouds
Let's snuggle below
Oh, woe to Death's blade
That swipes away at my life
Cutting it too short
Translucent twilight
Where doves fly forever south
By the edge of land
Luminosity
Slowly dying with the Sun
Setting fire to rain
'Til death do us part
So, I whisper, "I love you"
Before I depart
In between circles
I dance to the rhythm's beat
Deep below flowers
A celebration
Where rainbows bend at my knee
Proposing new life
(Marie from the Nutcracker grows ever older seeking her childhood dream...)
In her flat, thirty-something Marie
Is scrolling with mounting ennui;
Mr Right still eludes her -
She swipes left on Tinder,
Finding less and less fish in the sea
I saw a caterpillar sitting there
and soon we both began to stare
into each other's thoughtful eyes
as we sized each other up for size.
Our silence was quite unbroken.
Our words were telepathically spoken.
As he sat on his mushroom stool,
it was clear to me he was no fool.
Indeed, he was clever as a fox,
but had no feet, no shoes, no socks.
The socks he didn't wear had stripes,
like those a wicked witch swipes.
Me and that inchworm with mind, unmuzzled,
scratched our heads and chins and puzzled.
Under the illuminating sun,
what's won was lost, what's lost was won,
as we deconstructed history,
and unraveled every mystery.
Our work then, being handily done,
I neatly lied and said I had to run.
I bid adieu to my squirmy friend,
as my story reached a happy end.
Apocalypse
There is thunder, and lightning
The land is laid bare
The elements doing a death dance
Destruction in a frenzied dance
The trees trust the earth, the ground shakes
The mobile, helter skelter
The waters that give life, in spate
Uprooting everything meant to be constant
The lava flows here, acid rains there
The land trembles and disrupts elsewhere
Somewhere, a tornado swipes
While the Tsunami sweeps clean existence
The annihilation is defining
Yet a survivor stands witness
to an apocalypse manufactured
Now has to start all over again
The hunger, beyond the wounds, growls
Forced to hunt anything that survived
Carrion looks inviting
The last hunter is hunted
The bordello camp
Morning in Aruba, the cock has crowed three times
Men get out of beds that hundreds have slept in
of other men, they are silent, waiting for taxis
to take them back to their ship
Sad men, there is no jubilation here, cigarette smoke
A cold morning beer while waiting for the transport
A seaman, overcome by the tardiness, tries to run away
There is nowhere to run; the whore camp is in the desert
on a desert, sand, bushes, and snakes.
The madman, plied with alcohol, is sleeping.
The other carried him onboard.
In the courtyard, a woman swipes the dance
floor, doesn't bother to look up, when this day ends
They will be back again, or someone like them
will come, here, drink, dance, and pay for sex
The Butterfly
By Mystic Rose
As she drinks nectar from a flower, sweetness from heaven falls like dew
anointed with a gentle rain amidst sun showers she appears as if on cue
Lifting her wings she lands on a Zinnia beneath a tinted sky of April blue
flight of fancy fanning fast, fabulous marvel, she is beauty true on true
By Sean Kibble
A pair of glistening green eyes, glower in awe at the Morpho as she fanned
Fast as a flash, an imp with trusses of curly golden hair, swipes a tiny hand
To his wonder the elusive chrysalis hopped on to his outstretched arm
She hovered gracefully upon his palm displaying all its charm
Entranced by this serendipity, mum drew near to the spellbinding reverie
With a glint of mischief, face alight with joy he muttered “I think she likes me”.
Tendency is, to apportion
Love:
like slices of iced sweet
at a party
braying festive, 2 playful swipes
at a swinging, loaded donkey
(not the husband this time)
toffee for the dear loyal mate --
allotment of love, for precious children;
for all our Prayer-family, appealed
a canopy of blessed shade, like that
bible gourd,
cat and dog needing, also,
some petting reward – no special
reason...just because --
to the poet, as with painter,
superseding costume body of flesh,
art is voice-echo and representative
image
one's deeper beating sentient part
ventricle tools, the writing pad, the brush...
more poignant the words,
broader the expansive, lyrical stroke:
ruled paper or mystifying canvas~ the soul,
a bottomless well from which to
creatively
draw
fluid destinies
for controlled dabbing
abundant dashing-splashing
spirit-inspired
awesomely appealing
saturating pour --
________________________________________
Life Changing
In these quiet woods, as shadows spread,
Timorous leaves whisper my secrets to the breeze.
A sentinel of time I am among the malus trees.
My roots run deep in my seed’s homestead.
--
I stir under the warm sun anew.
My blossoms blooming bouquets of pink petals fair,
I stand in beauty, unaware.
Unbidden but welcome, Spring has made its debut.
--
My branches grow branches, my leaves bear blades.
The bees buzzing come, a swarming tinnitus hum,
My stigma swipes their pollen, my honey glands reward their plumb.
Such is the dance of life, out of sight, in the shade.
----
Sated with Spring and Summer, exhaustion nears,
Pink petals pass. Unadorned leaves leave their color green for brown
And softly, gently, resignedly, flutter down,
Dumb in their final moments in the breeze’s tears.
----
Myself, in those moments, stark and bare, I ponder life.
Its fleeting fare seems awkwardly unfair to the fruit I bore, the leaves I shed,
My issue are now numbered among the dead.
But my roots still run deep, insulated from the strife.
---
A sentinel of stone I am among the malus trees.
Looking down from somewhere up in the sky.
Mickey Mantle and Duke Snider stand by.
Below, Bronx Bombers, all in their pinstripes,
come out swinging their bats, taking their swipes.
Dem Bums have Shohei Ohtani and Betts.
Get ready, this is as good as it gets.
"Play ball", says the ump, to a lightning flash.
Big bats heard o'er the land, a thunder crash.
It starts raining as, out of the park, it flies.
Is it Mantle or Snider who cries?
Do you think I run scared from you?
Do you think that you stand above me in those big boots?
Do you think I cower, trembling beneath a table,
With my tail tucked between my legs,
While you search for me atop that high horse you like to ride?
Do you think in this childish game of cat and mouse,
You so deviously started,
That you are the cat with the sharpened claws
And I am the weak, defenceless mouse—
Fulfilling my only purpose as prey to you?
And in this game that you planned out so perfectly,
You sit and torment me day after day:
Until, in the end, the tiny, petrified mouse
Acts out and bites the paw that swipes at it—
Only for you to reverse the roles and pretend that, all along,
You were the poor, poor mouse; hunted mercilessly
By me: the unruly predator.
So, now, you say the mobs will appear to chase the beast away—
You think I hide with my tail tucked between my legs;
Ready to beg for your mercy—
But I will not bow down to the words you say.
If I am the monster, then let this be known:
My teeth are bared and I am waiting to attack;
Say your prayers and kiss your family goodbye
Because trust me, friend,
My bark is not worse than my bite.
I sat and watched as it continually banged it's head into the window pane, that fly.
My cat sits on the cill and swipes out at the fly as it buzzes around his head,
But he missed and knocked over a china vase instead.
The fly seemed startled and goes round and round the light.
It's buzzing is driving me crazy, it's becoming such a bore,
So I open everything I can and the fly goes out of the door.
Well, la di da, just look at you.
I see how far you’ve climbed.
You think the common words you speak
sound like sweet poems rhymed?
So are you really all that great?
That sparkling new veneer
you show to us – with a few swipes
I know I could besmear.
Oh, la di da, you act as if
in awe we should kowtow
to you, who think you’ve got a roar.
It’s just a cat’s meow.
I know the you that lies beneath
the fancy clothes you wear.
You think you’re better than old friends -
yet still breathe our same air
So, la di da, Oh, la di da
to you and all your kind.
With toilet paper all the rich
are wiping their behind.
No different or better than
the rest of us are you.
You married up, but give it time . . .
your act he will see through.
There she is again! That great big spider.
Show her the door. Don't spoil this insider.
Yet now on the ceiling, she rests up high.
My broom swipes hard though I fail in my try.
She's hoping to stay and spin a big net.
I grab some bug spray but it's the wrong kind.
"Once I got bitten", my friends I remind.
Nightfall comes, spider looks to be asleep.
My promise to win is one I can't keep.
Last seen, she's bigger and hasn't moved yet.
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