Allusions lead to absence?
Believe it, sir and ma'am.
Hold the door? Then get ye hence?
Why the constant slam?
Truth be told, the terror tells.
Tollbooth of the dead.
Nebula, will-o-the-wells.
Stray to look ahead...
Young the yellow yearling?
It's right there in his name.
Hornets, honeybees. Same sting?
Stake it on thy claim.
Frame of usual story?
O kindness, are you real?
Would if could, morning glory?
Flicker as ye feel!
Unity the ugly damn?
Indeed. That's been true.
Summertime, the crowds thin. Ham?
Blow away the blue.
Hated is the world outside!
Woe betide, landslide.
Pace of poet, poison plied.
How the cockerels chide...
"Somewhere beyond the sinkhole, past the magnolia, under the live oaks, a boy and a yearling ran side by side, and were gone forever." ~ Marjorie Kinnan Rowlings, from The Yearling
In heights above, see a dazzling sun.
Drink fresh air. It's time you must awake.
Arise, make for the stream by the lake.
On youthful legs, take flight and swiftly run.
Hunt for frogs. I know you'll catch me one.
Another day in paradise begun,
where clouds float aloft and aspens quake
in heights above.
Enjoy each moment, like a yearling fawn.
In boyhood's days, joyfully partake.
Gaze upon the stars in heaven's wake,
and spy that shooting star before it's gone
in heights above.
The sky becomes a deepened blue,
like army coats of yore,
clings to the trees atop the hills,
settles on valley floor.
The sun is gone but dim lingers
upon the rolling fields,
they seem endless done up in dark,
with secrets unrevealed.
The snow glows, just three inches deep,
reflects the rising moon,
some bits of grass still reach above,
but they’ll be buried soon.
The corn stubble is taller yet,
gives all a mottled look,
brown on white, in the morning times
it’s overrun with rooks.
A deep is picking though it now,
a yearling, and a doe,
I see its silent stride and I
wonder where it will go?
Probably to the hill just west,
beyond which is the town,
it’s rocky there, with thick forest,
a good place to bed down.
My foot crunches on crusted snow,
the winds have made their mark,
they’re predicting a storm next week,
so this is just the start.
Head home, passing the darkened barn,
with animals sleep,
I will be out in morning’s chill,
giving them hay to eat.
It’s not the nicest time to farm,
nut this job never stops,
at least the skiers will be glad
the temperature has dropped.
Go to Rhyme Zone to find words which rhyme.
Here Is My Mare Horn Haiku
Gilding is a Neutered Male
Yearling and Colt and Philly
Mustang Male or Female
Thoroughbred 16 Hands High
Wither
Pinto
Appaloosa
Feral Horse
Quarter Horse
Hobbled
Spayed mare
Pony
Shetland
Chincoteague
Assateague
called spayed horse a spade
was leader in long parade
off course may have strayed
words that rhyme with mare
a tall horse who has long hair
would won race by hair
call spayed horse a spade
by God each horse was made
around with we have played
when a horse did ride
countryside we would abide
Trump we had to hide
Yearling struts its liberty in unstinting energy
Oblivious to reserve that shoes a gallop with dullness
Unaware of regret's stable and the binaries of age
Trotting between indolence and indulgence
Hot-blooded youth that knows the sway of vigor in
every race, instinctive
right out of the gate
Acrostic composed May 5/2023
Popping out of pictures, pulling swords from stone,
Hunting with your coon dogs, shipwrecked all alone,
Rafting down the river, whitewashing a fence,
Balloons on Krakatoa, leagues under suspense,
Milo and his watchdog, Charlie’s ticket’s gold,
Meg and Charles go tessering, Lost Boys, never old,
Wizards, dwarves, and hobbits, James’ giant fruit,
Wilbur, Fern, and Charlotte, Belle’s enchanted brute,
Heartbreak with a yearling, a big old yellow dog,
Friends Mole and Rat and Toad, islands, treasure, grog,
Gardens full of secrets, the clever family Swiss:
Glorious great stories, just too good to miss.
Books promote imagination, candy for the mind,
Afternoons spent on the page leave the world behind.
Reading with my grandkids, adventure tales galore,
And when they finish all of these, I know of plenty more.
Lake Wollumboola is intermittent.
A coastal dune lagoon, enclosed by berm of sand.
Its basin a drowned creek-scoured depression.
This tiny lake is perched above high tide, vulnerable.
Its survival lies at the whim
of wind-blown and sea-thrown sand.
It's long term fate short-lived as its filling up
with sediment, weed, detritus and muck.
This little lagoon among the dunes
is mecca for migratory birds.
The curlew and buff-breasted sandpiper,
The long-toed stint, pied oyster catcher and little tern.
These vulnerable birds depend on the vulnerable lake.
They arrive on-cue from long-hall flights.
Alight and feeds in the shallows.
Mate, breed and lay eggs in vulnerable places
on the open beach and shore.
They squat on eggs and fledge their young,
and when the time comes, migrate back
with young yearling in tow,
to whence they came.
They book return migratory flights to
Lake Wollumboola each year,
hoping it survives vulnerable
for another year,
and hoping its time is not yet up.
Makin' proper time for the rule of rhyme,
With a hint of lime, see? It ain't no crime.
I'm breakin' my fast, watchin' the broadcast,
See what's amassed, from first I'll everlast.
Standin' 'bout face causin' rackets in case,
I'll put in place all them chasin' my ace.
I'm on the off chance,
In my happen stance.
Makin' all eyes dance
In my happy stance.
Go 'head, call me fool, I'm shakin' the tool,
I'll make ya drool draggin' in the deadpool.
Rollin' the bones, riddin' the moss off stones,
Ev'ry bird moans payin' off all them loans.
Got my care package, it got ev'rywhere,
I know little bears, it's hard not to stare.
Put you in a trance
In my happen stance.
Knowin' in advance
In my happen stance.
Luck's my lady all-night, she's outta sight,
But she feels me alright, my hand's so sleight.
I make jokers laugh 'til they break in half,
Fall over their staff like a new-born calf.
Ain't no yearling, I'll start with static cling,
Who's askin' me "Is it good to be king?"
I'm author and lance
In my happen stance.
And it ain't by chance
In my happen stance.
If only my vision were totally perfect,
This yearling poet would never sleep nor eat.
You'd find me here 24/7, in my glory,
Forever and a day, on Poetry Soup Street.
You have seen my bare soul,
And I have seen yours through your poems
and welcomed comments, how very sweet!
It's more than a blessed magnificent treat,
Being with you all, on Poetry Soup Street!
Gratefully and with my love~
Panagiota
Affably Adorable
Beautiful birdsong
Cherished chasteness
Diabolical dalliance
Enthusiastic enchantress
Frolicking Fortitude
Glorious Gallivanting
Heavenly Hero
Idealistic Imagination
Joyful Journey
Kaleidoscopic Keenness
Light and Lithe
Mystical magical
Nocturnal night sky
Opulent Oracle
Prophetic promises
Queried Questions
Reflective Responses
Serendipitous Sensuality
Treasured Tranquility
Ultra-sweet and understated
Virginally vindicated
Whispery wishes
‘Xiting ‘Xtremetries
Youthful yearling
Zigzagging zealots
retirement homes
the doe and her yearling fawn
nibble the hedgerow
the night is the black down of a yearling
this sky a taunt of trailed stars
let me spin in a frosty lane,
head back,
too fast to count
and throw the dark to ground
He frolicked through the grass
And then he clambered up a tree,
Gazing at the cars all filled
With wide-eyed folk like me.
The traffic slowed so everyone
Could get a little peek
At the black bear yearling (give or take),
The highlight of the week.
It's such a treat to catch a glimpse
Of wildlife in the wild.
Perhaps that bear, confronting us,
Was equally beguiled.
effortlessly we cut a rug in the beautiful moonlight
it was one of those perfect nights you never forget
among the starlight scattered and spinning on the dance floor
the sweet remains of our lovely night dancing
we wandered the soft side of night
in eachother's arms
it was like having a yearling heart all over again
it was like being in love for the first time all over again
with my head nestled on her bare shoulder
like discovering what it was
like being with a woman the first time
a long beautiful moment that lasted forever in my yearling heart
that wrote a lifetimes love affair just in
those precious moments in her arms
such is the intoxicating beauty that is my lover
such is the occult magic of womanhood
that i thirst so much for
that i adore so deeply
that is the root of all love poems
the beauty of a woman's heart
we wandered the soft side of night
in eachother's arms
dancing embraced in eachother's love
forever more
© 2016 mark john junor all rights reserved
Life’s many twists and turns make a full of life,
roll with the punches when you’re on a roll.
Time will prove to you that it takes time
for there is so much to do and live for.
Today I pray love, thankful for yesterday.
Knowing you’re happy, I’m grateful knowing
all that we do rests on giving our all.
Holding me close to you keeps me holding-on.
Years of bonding, our dreams has lasted, yearling
tears of joy and pain. The lesser are tears
more contagious than laughter, bound for more
love forever after, a lifetime of love.
Dedication to oneness is our dedication.
Unity proves - nothing stops this unity.
SONNET FORM #6 - Shadow Sonnet
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