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Hannah Borke Poem
On one sultry August day
In a clearing in the woods
Within a long delay
for salvaged auto goods
Amid decaying vans, under glaring sun
High above one ant, homebound, on the run...
Along a rugged trail
of micro hill and dale
Between pebbles and sprigs
Over shards and twigs
For seconds brief, beneath a leaf
‘Round a rock, willy nilly
Root outcrop, dilly dally;
Up the maple, fast
With head-on-haul in grasp
In and out of bark
Inside crevice, dark
Astride the edge, at last
Across a lichen patch
Behind broad leaves of dark green hue —
To my chagrin, beyond my view;
Out from under the shade
Into the open glade
Within the reflective collage
of glinting metals and shards
Beneath the tranquil sky — recharged!
Copyright © Hannah Borke | Year Posted 2017
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Hannah Borke Poem
At a spot of roadside, shaded
A predator on the prowl
Concealed itself and waited
for prey to run afoul…
Then, madly, with a dash,
It shot out from the thicket;
Nabbed one prey, in a *flash*
And slapped it with a ticket.
Copyright © Hannah Borke | Year Posted 2017
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Hannah Borke Poem
It took some five millennia
Ahead of Plymouth Rock
For Whites to reach America
And discover unknown crops
Where the land’s amaizing corn
Sustained exploring guys
With green-bean pods galore
And the pineapple surprise;
Who also would have dined
On red tomato fruit,
The avocado find,
And sweet-potato root.
Meantime, peppers, yonder,
Created a sensation
As potatoes sated hunger
In needy populations.
Topping that …. vanilla
And the strawberry gem
Plus chocolate, the thriller
— From Americas, stem:
Plus peanuts in pods
Pecans and cashews . . .
Thus, let us thank G-d
For great recent foods!
Copyright © Hannah Borke | Year Posted 2017
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Hannah Borke Poem
Once upon a whim
As I watched a tractor’s limb,
Poke, and under-tuck
the feed it hoisted up,
It seemed as though it goes
Akin to an elephant’s nose.
When later the machine
Departed from the scene
With scary points hung in
beneath the folded limb,
Its appearance was akin
to a giant scorpion.
Copyright © Hannah Borke | Year Posted 2017
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Hannah Borke Poem
Ode to my crocs -- BALD from high wear,
In serious need of good-riddance
During my TREAD on a wet floor with care
In the throws of a SKID and imBALANCE
By the absence of any TRACTION
Between the floor and the sole of my croc
In need of replacement action
for my crocs on the croc-chopping block
Up from the floor no worse for the wear
Through all the sales in the fliers
At the store with the Croc footwear
Back home with the new set of TIRES
Copyright © Hannah Borke | Year Posted 2017
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Hannah Borke Poem
The polar bear eats
Essentially meat
Including Man
If it can;
Now that you know
Do not go
Ever near
A polar bear.
Copyright © Hannah Borke | Year Posted 2017
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Hannah Borke Poem
The Maker of violets and roses
Gave a land to the tribes led by Moses
In antiquity
For eternity
And all of humanity knows it.
Copyright © Hannah Borke | Year Posted 2017
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Hannah Borke Poem
For a poet, albeit,
Recognition’s elusive,
It’s not the exclusive
Measure of treasure.
Copyright © Hannah Borke | Year Posted 2017
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Hannah Borke Poem
I stepped outdoors to moist air brisk
As fallen leaves in circles whisked
Accompanied by swishing trees
Which symphony could only please
And, aah, no blast of humid heat
Engulfed me in my driver’s seat
I lower the window, mist blows in
Soothes my asthma, fans my skin;
Now the drizzle just began
Nice and cozy in my van
Driving up the street serene
Taking in the autumn scene
Copyright © Hannah Borke | Year Posted 2017
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Hannah Borke Poem
1.Crystal 2.Gloaming 3.Frosted 4. Forevermore 5. Pathos 6. Valiant 7. Melancholy 8. Unpredictable
Word Challenge of Eight:
Reading poems of late
I found myself homing
In on the word "GLOAMING"
To the point that I felt accosted
By the poems that it FROSTED;
For me, now, "gloaming" is FOREVERMORE cliche;
While "PATHOS" tossed me for a loop with its long 'a',
Due to the UNPREDICTABLE
Pronunciation of that syllable.
By now, it should be CRYSTAL clear
This entry's not VALIANT or sincere;
There -- I've admitted my folly,
Feeling contrary to MELANCHOLY
For contest by John Hamilton
Copyright © Hannah Borke | Year Posted 2017
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