A game of hide and seek breaks out
In the living room I duck behind the couch
Like a ninja on vacation
My dog trots by
Sniffing
Chuffing
Absolutely unconvinced
Until I pop out with a peekaboo
She jumps
Like she just met a ghost wearing my face
She sprints around the house
In victory laps of pure joy
Tail wagging so hard
It could power a small village
I pretend I meant to hide better
But she’s already celebrating her win
Like she solved the world’s greatest mystery
Round two begins
I “stealthily” slide behind a door
My dog staring straight at me
Because I’m terrible at this
Yet she still plays along
Bless her goofy heart
When I leap out again
She wiggles with delight
As if hide and seek was the greatest game on earth
Written: April 30, 2026, for a contest sponsored by: Natasha L Scragg
***********************
If I could change my shape today,
I'd choose a pet that's bright in play.
A fluffy friend with charm to spare,
who’d scamper laughing through my hair.
I might become a fox of gold,
with twinkling paws and a heart so bold.
Who trots to you at break of dawn,
and curls beside you on the lawn.
Or maybe I’d be something new—
a sky-blue cat with eyes of dew.
Who purrs in rhymes and hums in time,
and dances silly pantomime.
Or I could be a bunny sweet,
soft as clouds from head to feet.
Who hops around you in delight,
and makes your whole world feel bright.
But no matter which form I choose,
with paws or claws or floppy shoes,
I’d visit you with joy unplanned—
Your loyal friend at your command.
my English Cream retriever trots through his pool
he likes to saturate his paws and his belly
the water is green and gross
If I refresh it, he digs dirt and jumps back in
muddying it like a cow’s farm pond
my older dog walks back and forth
investigating his brother from another mother
Not about to get in, he is obviously not a retriever
The skyline cuts through faded tones,
With moonglow blazing gilded bronze
And fluid my ink is interlaid
As nightfall drifts like a peace shroud
The glass pane teeters in the breeze
With my pen zigzagging on damp papyrus
I hear an old couple laugh on the alley
Their banter rolling , perhaps, of younger times--
Across them, a lone man trots, forlorn
His bent spine enduring road's travail,
Leading his wobbly feet to tangles of blooms
While egrets scuffle homeward bound.
My mixed thoughts wander at this picture show
...Receding off so gradually
From the tip- tap screech of cobblestones
To my pane's sill, fingers reach for verses
Where each day is a page to write new stories
About jagged yet sleek edges of time's folly
My hands sinking into tattered phrases, kneading
Recitals of life with unknown episodes.
The fox slopes warily into the garden,
a sapphire dawn overlay's and
sheens his form.
He trots across
a snow powdered clearing
head low, electric whiskers
seeking trace and track.
Crystalline eyes
turn toward a window
where I watch between
aquamarine icicles.
A white speckled snout
wrinkles in sudden awareness.
A quick curious stare,
then off he vaults
over a frost jeweled fence,
a bristled tail whisking
diamond flecked snowflakes -
blue diamonds.
Under a frozen cascade of stars
a vixen trots to her den -
mice today
they were her only prey.
Hunger gnaws
at a phantom bone
heavy with fresh meat.
Tomorrow she will rise early
and return late,
only two of her three cubs
will live to share a field rat.
The rat litter will perish.
Survival now depends
upon the lightness
of one chilled whisker.
Meowlu the cat, with fur so black,
Sings meow-meow upon his back;
His purrs are soft, his whiskers long,
He loves to hum his favourite song.
At night he wakes and stretches wide,
Then to the window, he glides;
With tiptoe paws and eyes so bright,
Meowlu steps out into the night.
The moon shines down on the grass so green,
Where Meowlu starts his nightly scene;
He mews a tune for all to hear,
The nighttime creatures gather near.
With crickets chirping, frogs in tune,
Meowlu conducts beneath the moon;
Till dawn arrives, he takes a bow,
Then home he trots, with one last meow.
THE WEIGHT OF OUR THOUGHTS
Mind, the supreme gift to humankind is,
Plentiful thoughts criss-crossing whiz;
Enchanted spirits gliding high,
Success triumph when almost nigh!
Gratified the mind, with content filled,
Appeased exuberant gladly thrilled;
Vibrant agile mind dancing sprightly,
Energetic playful the outer selves’ lively!
When crestfallen desolate state of mind,
Languorous listless strolling down the alley blind;
Depressed psyche despondent gloomy,
Anguished being humming songs melancholy!
Strolling with heavy steps or light-hearted trots,
Let’s not carry The Weight Of Our Thoughts!
Her long eyelashes
are fetching.
Irene has beautiful eyes,
most donkeys have.
When I call her, she comes,
but not right up to me,
she trots to my side
turns,
facing the same way I am looking.
I am not looking at anything much,
we two are just sharing the moment,
that’s what friends do.
Sole say I, What wouldst be the reasoning?
Murmurs, her head swerves about, hesitates,
nibbles green herbs with care then elevates.
Cautious white doe, quaint sight a wandering.
Alert nose takes air, head bent back, above.
Hooves pave a path, being blue, surges clear.
Unaware, her head drops, tickles my sphere,
casts her spot of me, blanched soul feels her shove.
She lights her weight to level her being,
the full breadth of her trots to my chilled beat,
trots to shore, genteel flow, dares to repeat.
Tempted, being tide, yet pursuit was keen,
Perchance another day of challenging,
Goes a white doe, faint glimpse a wondering.
Flapping gay garment hung on balcony bannister
Trots obstinate flung spun over railing
Fixated brazen Brigette immune to embarrassment
Boosted bemuse formats never failing
Composed to procure prominence, step with stars
Stage bound show must go on motto
Constellation shift slides velvet curtain aside ajar
Planets orbit origin wins Lyceum lotto
Horoscope high hope performs fame premonition
Bright light box office tickets Brigette
Halcyon sky spiral beehive secures each audition
Sixties seductress frequency fills seats
23rd June
Absurd Truth
it is one of those placid docile what-do-we-do April days.
I sit outside naked except for my light polyester mumu.
an airplane wakes the cloud with her powerful engine noises.
my wind chimes tingle a mirthful melody.
Sophie, my cocker spaniel sits behind me, she is an inside dog.
Buddy, our husky mix trots a giant six pound bone around in his mouth.
there is a car on Kansas Avenue, we cannot see it, but we hear it.
nothing else is moving until I spy a blue jay landing on a branch.
so light in hue, that he could be an arctic jay, he is the lightest gray.
annoyingly loud muscle car can be heard in the distance, tearing up a street.
roosters behind me begin to crow, even though it is noon.
melodic chimes heighten their melody as today’s breeze picks up.
trilling of birds gives me a reassuring thought of God in the yard.
behind me I hear the purr of our porch refrigerator.
if there has ever been a calmer day, I was not aware of it.
someone revs a car engine far off in the distance.
old man or boy, I think, or old lady in a mumu. This makes me smile.
Gumdrops and Raindrops Nursery Rhyme
Raindrops patter in such sweet, sweet songs
How I love their song - to sing along.
Jelly beans bloom in the peppermint's lane
Cinnamon bear showers dance in my brain.
Sour cherry drops hang from Boston bean trees
Whistle pops toot a song for my breeze.
Root beer barrels jive with fruity dots
In storms hot tamales do turkey trots.
Splashing through my puddles of gumdrops green
Lollypop flowers make quite a scene.
Foil wrapped kisses sparkle like rain dews
Sweethearts and sweet tarts play peek-a-boo.
Drizzles rain down flat Necco wafers
I duck hard hail so like hard jaw breakers.
Sassafras sky pounds with taffy torrent rains
As sugar babies chant their sweet refrains.
Abracadabra jujubes appear
Licorice buttons and rock candy clear.
I turn my bumbershoot upside down
To catch tasty rain so I never frown.
3-28-23
Contest: Children Sing to Rhyme Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Eve Roper
That Salad Went Right Through Me
I've always wanted to write a poem called
“That Salad Went Right Through Me”.
And I would wager upon its best destiny:
To begin with, there is the Universal Theme--
For who has not gurgled around a conference table
at half past the last radish scrap?
Who, once stalled, has not
persistently punched the flusher
to muffle the borborygmus din?
But on a loftier note, I prefer
to think of my paean emblazoned
in the annals of first line indexes,
where, as one wanders lonely as a cloud
over dactyls and tropes,
“That salad went right through me”
trots right off the page
demanding a fervid flip to its leaf.
And future discourse plied at workshops,
and other such rarefied privies of poesy
might thusly include:
"Did you write a poem for the class today?"
Yes...“That Salad Went Right Through Me”
"Well then, you should consider the cheesecake."
Twig twists intersect then spread victory
Receptors sprout cat waving paws
Fold fruit bowl foliage, branch tributary
Lump eye timber columns support
Steer me clear of thatch caged cluster
Cheerleader twirling ribbons sizzle
Shifted to soft focus forest, fairy dusted
In drifting dandelion seed celestial
Thrown down overlap of toasty tobacco
Crinkle constant joke cracked faces
Humour grants razor slim grasses tackle
Unused nests during seasons' phases
Basket interweave splice strap sun poke
Probes timid shade a radiating halo
Lathered limbs in blossom shampoo soak
Crown me neath ghostly citrine glow
Sombre trots towards her restful rotunda
Floating pollen fluff Snugglepot ego
Fingers spring flags of woodland wonder
Grip ant gazette trail to safe gazebo
6th March
Exists in the middle
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