My windsocks and my whirligigs
All dance and spin around
And with wind chimes, there would also be
A sweet melodic sound.
The wind’s a great companion
When it’s gentle, with a breeze
That allows these things to happen,
Meant to lift one’s mood and please.
Even when the wind is whipping,
It’s a marvel to behold,
Though perhaps that’s only to the point
When it can be controlled.
We live in what a world
that
whorls
and whirligigs with giant feet
upon
its
waters splashing along as if
its
coastland
His hem not even
wet
like flying fish Peter’s hands
flip and
flop
into the palms of Christ
who
sets
His disciple back in the boat
mercy’s
in
Christ’s eyes His Father smiles
shines
the Holy Spirit
Angels applaud all the glory
as
for
earthlings there’s a story
My whirligigs are spinning;
The trees are all a’sway.
The dafs, with blooms beginning,
Bow their heads in mock dismay.
The windsock strips are dancing;
The bushes are a’bounce,
The dogs on leashes prancing,
Swishing tails an added flounce.
As I sit here with my writing,
While the sunshine’s all a’peek,
Rhyming words have been alighting
To allow my thought to speak.
Guard dogs try to sleep in a deaf corner.
Smaller barkers do what they do best
from under bed or table.
Large bugs in the sky
keep blinking and teasing.
They jig and jag
and only the dogs
and a few elderly cats
can hear them.
Whirligigs descend only to disappear,
spinning wings bite the air.
K9 units are advised
to use extreme caution,
it's almost as if
we know that they know.
Bells
Solitary heart, newborn in brooding silence,
Steps on a cluttered path
Through elms and boughs of broken limbs,
In a pungent, evergreen hush
Absent of astral cacophony
That falls like mute pennies from wishes,
No buzz nor whirling wings
Disturbs the tacit spell
Until a faint and far-off chime
Brushes against my startled heart
Like the flutter of a butterfly kiss
For at my feet coral bells harmonize
With snowdrops in strings of chimes
Awakened by the breath of angel wings -
Music born of stardust carried on wind chimes
Banishes black spells in lyrical pinwheels,
Melodic whirligigs ringing in silvery silk jingles
Like crystal icicles brushed by soft winds -
A carillon of the winter angelus
Pealing in effervescent tiptoes to remain.
A closer look at a fantastic word
And no, I’m not talking in bafflegab
To not repeat this speak is just absurd
To absquatulate like a fracas herd
Throw a foofaraw over a little jab
A closer look at a fantastic word
A uni-brow is a glabella furred
And whirligigs hung too slapdash to grab
To not repeat this speak is just absurd
Scuttlebutt schlepped to sassafras by bird
Skedaddle from a skirmish of stone crab
A closer look at a fantastic word
A quibble over razzmatazz occurred
Doohickey from a lummox, easy nab
To not repeat this speak is just absurd
So scrumdiddlyumptious I may have slurred
Like tintinnabulation, it’s not drab
A closer look at a fantastic word
To not repeat this speak is just absurd
My whirligigs are whirling
Since the wind has come to call
And my windsocks’ arms are twirling
Like they’re gearing for a brawl.
The temperature is dropping
Back to wintertime degrees
And the gusts will not be stopping
‘Til we all begin to freeze.
Mother Nature is enjoying
Making mischief these days; hence,
‘Tween the seasons we’ll be buoying
As she laughs at our expense.
multicolor leaves
showers of seed whirligigs
bird nests now empty
shift of the leaves
slowly changing
separating from summer
chilling whirligigs
ready for color
dying to fall
!
!
!
!
!
!
8/27/2022
My brand-new garden spinner twirls
When breezes start to blow.
It joins my dancing windsock,
Strips a’flying to and fro.
The wind provides the magic
For the whirligigs and trees,
From little puffs of air to gusts
Of varying degrees.
On days when all is still, I hope
The weather will improve
So I will once again enjoy
All things the wind does move.
The storm brawled with the flying rags
of mad clowns.
Small birds exploded
in spiral sprays of feathers.
Deer slogged against a hoof tugging fright.
Raccoons clung to barn beams.
Trashcans spun like whirligigs.
Ducks sunk amid churning reeds,
the wind hurt every eye & heart.
All hid from the calamity jig.
Whirling trees danced,
in a bugaboo blow
that chased a sky around its own
wracked
and flying red ribbons.
I am sitting on the cliff overlooking the river
Far below in the crevice of the mountains,
Where the waters meander like a ribbon
And the rafters are tiny figurines fighting
The currents like whirligigs on the creek.
It’s a fine place to ponder life’s options,
When all seems grayish skies and bleak
And words come slowly to fit the writing,
While the mind wanders free unbidden
Ideas bubbling up like creative fountains
Thoughts as elusive as slippery quicksilver.
written September 23, 2021
[written in reverse rhyme
scheme ABCDEFEDCBA]
Considering whirligigs, how they spin,
While I, I sip on my ginger and gin
Awaiting the next miracle my way,
While my hair turns ever so gray
Thinking about small wonders now,
And asking myself, quietly, “How?”
FOURTH PLACE WINNER
written July 6, 2021
for "Bite Size Poem No. 11" Poetry Contest
sponsored by Line Gauthier
dim and dismal green
disconnected from the sun
waiting on the rain
the leaves dull-humid
still-standing, no breeze blowing
expectant of drench
a relief of burns
the Summer cold to the touch
an austere old thing
the tinkling droplets
chime whirligigs with fancy
those cool snowy clouds
puddles with bare feet
the steam escapes the pavement
white sandals in hand
7/23/2019
aged
leaflets
gold and crisp
hued
scarlet
whirligigs
wind
briskly
blows and shakes
yard
lettuce
raked and tossed
bones
of oak
left leafless
9/14/2018
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