Red-wing blackbirds symbolize protection, good luck, and even prosperity. They’re a reminder that something else is out there watching over us and guiding us when necessary - Quote by Vanessa K. Eccles
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Zorro of lakeshores, coasts,
waterholes amidst tall reeds
Redkissed on wings, nicely earned
proud yellow shining badges,
worries so much over his
subdued, streaky brown missus
bossing around claiming digs,
ruling the roost, many gals -
fearless keeper of his lot
he whistles, she chatters mild
A large green iguana fell out of a tree
onto my head.
Ohio has no invasive Iguanas.
I don't smoke anymore.
Right in front of me
a speeding red van killed a woman.
I have developed an allergic reaction
to all kinds of blind spots.
Latterly,
balding eagles have buried their memories
under symbolic windfarms.
Since moving to where I am,
the mail truck arrives far too late
to do anything about it.
I used to leak over sterile tabletops.
Now and again, a thin lifeblood still drains
through systemic digital aqueducts.
Upon a time, I considered following the ways
of an autonomous wildebeest,
no matter,
an habitual herd instinct
led me to drink from only shallow waterholes.
I have reconsidered.
Ever since,
a rung-less ladder gets me high enough
without the use of heel lifts.
I choose my socks carefully.
#14: Revelations 23:1
Human chain meant Starman ... breathing room trips,
H**** sapiens chose ... plus naught minus,
the apocalypse ... opts total eclipse,
self-acquaintance, he splits us, Linnaeus,
Con temporaries times, countdown it chills,
Adolph & Stalin it ticks and it tocks,
Pre temporaries times, pour down it spills,
Alexander, Khan drip sands as it stocks,
Once down on the time, leaves heaped reds and golds,
down on one-timers, the large waterholes.
Cause and effects--pause and reflect; Reserved,
Blessed manifest--Grace takes His Place; The Word.
[Bible scholars well-versed: book/chapter/verse, Reserved?]
Oceans are vast breaking toward a shore
Harbors for sealife, both timid and brave
Sun is stolen by sea: tales in folklore
sunsets seem to melt into ocean's waves.
A stark vastness in deserts robed in sand
Vicinity where mind tags dreams for play
teasing of waterholes, though none at hand
Shadows stretching far, chasing end of day
The universe, full of planets and stars
As we've flown its vastness, we've become tall
Though little of wonders seen from afar
for Earth is remote, a blue ball, and small
Dwelling beneath our temperamental skies
smiling one day, the next, storms are forming
But their showers are a welcome surprise
Skies endlessly vast, sunny or storming
The living mind, scientists find, is vast
its depth uncharted, but this they now know:
we're all one, and there should be no outcast,
The edges of hope, beginning to show.
April 19.2023
for "Writing Challenge--V Words
by Constance La France
howmanysyllables=10
The brumby of Australia, not known to be well bred
Some are tough as leather, but that not often said
More criticised that praised, for damage that they do
Muddying the waterholes, as cattle never do
The biggest problem that they have, their wish to have a roll
Find some nice clean water, then muddy up the hole
They will get to station horses, the mares have foul breed foals
The quality completely gone, and fences torn to holes
The stockman love to muster them, the wildest of the rides
Chase them way along the flat, and down the mountain sides
But we also have a saying, and is so very true
You should never kill a good horse, as some brumby chasers do
So though it is so very sad, we have to thin them out
We can only breed fine horses, if no brumbies are about
Your life depends on stamina, and full trust in your mount
It is your horse that saves your life, more times than you can count
Roses can be green
The globalized world is a grey blanket
the common language and culture (consumerism)
A haze of foul jollity and hollow laughter
lost minds, save elephants and waterholes
life is self-indulgent a rush into the arms of self
where the famous chef wears a toupee.
Roses are blue, the only colour of today
oxalate hamburgers, beans in tomato sauce
sesame seed for breakfast, lunch and dinner
Eunuchs are ruling the worldwide internet.
Roses are not blue
The world as one is a grey blanket of nothing
The same language, the same culture (consumerism)
A haze foul of jollity and hollow laughter.
Lost minds save the elephant and waterholes
Life is self-indulgent rush into the arms of self
And movies of no consequence.
Roses are blue it is the only colour today
Oxalating hamburger, beans in tomato sauce
Sesame seed for breakfast, lunch and dinner
Eunuchs are ruling welcome to globalisation.
Roses are not blue
The world as one is a grey blanket of nothing
The same language, the same culture (consumerism)
A haze foul of jollity and hollow laughter.
Lost minds save the elephant and waterholes
Life is self-indulgent rush into the arms of self
And movies of no consequence.
Roses are blue it is the only colour today
Oxalating hamburger, beans in tomato sauce
Sesame seed for breakfast, lunch and dinner
Eunuchs are ruling welcome to globalisation.
Roses are not blue
The world as one is a grey blanket of nothing
The same language, the same culture (consumerism)
A haze foul of jollity and hollow laughter.
Lost minds save the elephant and waterholes
Life is self-indulgent rush into the arms of self
And movies of no consequence.
Roses are blue it is the only colour today
Oxalating hamburger, beans in tomato sauce
Sesame seed for breakfast, lunch and dinner
Eunuchs are ruling welcome to globalisation.
Roses are not blue
The world as one is a grey blanket of nothing
The same language the same culture (consumerism)
A haze foul of jollity and hollow laughter.
Lost minds save the elephant and waterholes
Life is a self-indulgent rush into the arms of self
And movies of no consequence.
Roses are blue it is the only colour today
Oxalating hamburger, beans in tomato sauce
Sesame seed for breakfast, lunch and dinner
Eunuchs are ruling the planet, welcome.
The yellow dying sun throws lingering light
As the hills are bathed in pastel colours towards night
The trees are filled with pink galahs
And you can hear their incessant chattering from afar
The kangaroos get up and slowly hop around
As they graze near waterholes on dusty ground
Those that live in the darkening shadows
Awake to life in the Outback meadows
The campfire light gives an inviting glow
As the camp oven is cooking slow
It will take off the evening chill
A chandelier of stars fits the bill.
© Paul Warren Poetry
Love your neighbour.
Bomb them to Hell
Peace be upon you.
Off with their heads
Blessed are the poor.
We shall exploit them
Feed the hungry.
Poison their waterholes
Help the homeless.
Herd them into refugee camps
We are equal in the eyes of our God.
Let women be our slaves
There is dignity in labour.
Prostitute yourself
Respect the planet.
Pollute earth,air,sky and sea
Health is wealth.
Only wealth can afford health
Uphold freedom of speech.
The thought police rule
Poet: Ken Jordan
Poem: Random Thoughts
Edited by: Sparkle Jordan
written: March/2013
Whale kisses,
and baby seals -
Snowflakes on windshields -
Bubble's floating in the air - Marshmallow clouds,
Ice sickle squares -
Kites flying over the sea -
Blue birds in a Cherry tree - Sunday mornings,
and daffodil's -
Waterfalls,
little green frogs - Tumbleweeds,
prairie dogs -
Waterholes and rhino's -
Piano's and soprano's -
Sheep grazing on a hill -
Rainbows and windmills -
Autumn's gone,
Winter's here -
Pine cones and reindeer -
Spring showers,
May flowers -
Renewal begins -
The Pride of Lions
The interior of Algarve has in the summer heat
an African feel, waterholes are getting smaller
and mules must be careful not to be caught by
lions that lurk in the chaff, seed of things made
golden by the sun, but ultimately just T. V trash
blinding us so we don´t see the lovely animal
called reality. Endless rolling news, tragedy is
entertainment, transient fame of those who
want to be famous without doing homework,
end up as husks blowing in the wind, belittled
on the throne of craving for amusement by
the unthinking, who do not see blood and circus
are dust of distraction by the powerful so we
do not see how our freedom is eroded before
it is too late, and there are no lions left.
In the change of the season, fears fills life in the bush
The weak parish ,the strong survive, summers hot hell sky
The dry spell ends and the cowboys check out the waterholes
A constant fight for seasonal torture in this unforgiving land
The stream runs through the woodland between the gum trees
O'er the rocks it trickles where width and depth rises and falls
A place where time and age has cut and scoured a path
A place where horse and riders have to be weary
From unseen dangers from nature's elements and wild animals
Riding in the outback with guns strapped upon the back
The cowboys search for the herd that grazes upon the land
knowing that the cattle will come to drink at the river's edge
Riding the range is no easy feat in Aussie land
A place where instinct is your survival.
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