A man once was a lover
Of the noisy Spur-winged Plover
But when walking his dog
Hid under a log
As its swooping made him take cover.
Ah! What was that?
I shriek and freeze
Something flew past
I almost dropped.
It wasn’t a bird
Or anything sweet
It had long feelers
And too many feet.
It circled once
Then took a dive
I questioned how
I’d make it out alive.
Its shell was shiny
Its stare was mean
The ugliest thing
I’ve ever seen.
I grabbed a shoe
Prepared to swing
But it took flight.
The cursed thing had wings!
I ran and screamed
Down the hall
Not so brave
Not tough at all.
But fear held me back,
I couldn’t get away,
Hands trembling,
I faced it anyway.
Then I saw it
I stepped in slow,
Still full of fear,
It didn’t move,
But I wouldn’t go near.
I grabbed a slipper,
Threw hard from afar,
Missed on the first,
Then followed up hard.
I raised my sandal,
Gave one last swing,
A nasty crunch,
I ended the thing.
from the book’s open cradle,
a rush of color lifted~
soft wings trembling
like thoughts just born,
those delicate immigrants
rising from ink into air.
they gathered in a gentle rabble,
a drifting, shimmering chorus
of saffron, coral,
and moon-washed blue~
each one carrying a quiet story
the pages could no longer hold.
upward they traveled
a migration of light
toward the turquoise sky,
where the wind waited
to welcome their wandering,
to scatter their small miracles
across the wide, listening world.
From the book’s open heart,
a rabble of butterflies rose~
saffron flickers,
cerulean shivers,
petals of pink and ember-gold
fluttering into freedom.
They drifted upward
like loosened dreams,
each wing a watercolor whisper
of places yet imagined~
delicate immigrants
carrying quiet stories
the pages could no longer contain.
Across the turquoise stillness
they traveled,
a bright migration of meaning
stitching color into the sky,
leaving the book glowing behind them
as if every word
had learned to fly.
oh, ladybug, beloved insect
gentle, colorful beetles
with sweet red-and-black spots
delightful winged wonders
omens of good things to come
with spiritual messages if you believe
wish fulfillment
protection
renewal and transformation
adaptability
love
and positive things
and if you don't believe
ladybugs will eradicate your garden pests
I am in that in-between space
where nothing matters
yet everything does.
So much noise around me
while something quietly died inside.
Is it a magnetic frequency?
Misplaced energy?
Not to speak in codes—
I simply do not know anymore.
Surrounded by many,
yet still lonely.
Never truly understood.
No support from anyone.
Are we alone in this universe?
Do we pray to a God who does not exist,
or one who chooses not to listen?
Sometimes
I feel like a broken-winged Pegasus.
Will my wing ever mend?
Will I ever fly from this cliff—
to admire the stars
as the calming wind touches my face,
soaring higher
while the valley grows smaller below?
Tears run to my lips
as I watch the sun setting,
feeling the warmth of its fading glow.
At least that is what I imagined
for a wounded warrior
praying for days
of peaceful existence.
I still wonder—
will it have
a happy ending?
Follow the warmth into the light
don't hesitate to sprint away
when it doesn't feel just right.
Charlatans will bend you around them,
but the sixth sense is a winged gift.
A casual drift toward a peaceful realm
into the purist form of yourself.
Four and a half years ago we lost a fine poet,
a knightly gentleman, and a friend to many of us.
I'm reposting my tribute to him today.
Warrior is an adjective used for a hero or a knight
I knew one, briefly, whose wings have taken flight
Not just a fine poet was John, but also very kind
Generous and caring, is how he would be defined
Endearing was his 'love and light' message to all
Departed now, but his memory I will always recall
With words of tribute, I honor his humorous wit
Always a positive attitude, he was a candle ~ lit
Rest peacefully, ^WW^ ~ You're missed, my friend
Reflecting Ripples is a poem John sadly penned
In it he wrote about "shadows" and "silent sorrows"
Oh, If from fate, I could be the one who borrows
Respite from death, you'd have more tomorrows
Spring Sun Hiku 19
. k .
blazing flame in s y
d-r-a-w-n by winged chariot
sprinkles greens on e .a. r. t. h.
::::::::::::
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
---------------------------------------
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
Green waters circumscribe an island’s pallid face,
Hexagons of light, scattered jewels on the waves.
Earthly hues, against litharge seas, shimmering gleam;
Albatross wings glide, an immaculate blue dream.
The scene suspends time, and worldly cares release -
A whisper for the human eye, a quiet aurora’s peace.
“When a cardinal appears in your yard, it’s a visitor from heaven.”
-author Unknown
Daylight begins with a sweet chorus of angels with wings
A bat cries differently,
eats fruits,
gliding, hanging insectivore,
Jackal-Kite, living mammal, nursing offspring, pup , quarrelsome, rodent species, terrible, umbrella vampire, winged xebec, yearn zoo .
The birds, I saw
soaring high in the azure sky
of the countryside,
drifting softly through the air
beyond my sight.
Over the mountain,veiled in mist
where the rivers flow
and valleys twist,
they might have journeyed.
When they were no longer seen,
an emotion began to stir,
a metaphor of freedom's call
to the boundless skies.
My heart ached with longing
for journeys they could make,
their freedom song
a song of pure mobility.
I tried to fly without white wings
I cried inside with soul dying
Broken spirit broken dreams
Can you hear it my black heart screams
I was asleep and yet awake
Nightmares so deep they escape
The well in me the hell in me
Tormented spirits keep jailing me
I hide my heart in my shoe
Like it is money or gold’s fool
I walk around limping in pain
For I hate sun and love the rain
For sun makes clear all shadows
I’d disappear like a haunted ghost
Ever so near to holy hope
Depression is weird like me you know
Glassy eyes from teal tears fried
My heart broken my insides tied
Into burnt knots of mahogany
Lost in thought my glassy wings
Down by the river, we always washed our clothes together.
Slapping gray collars against the cool black stones.
Having willowy discussions about what's wrong with the world.
When it came to politics, we'd stab each other with sticks.
Now I do my laundry alone.
Humming to the huckleberry heat.
Even that blue-winged river bird
wants nothing more to do with me.
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