I love my tabby kitty's tummy dots.
all those swirly, soft, downy lovely spots;
she likes to jump, spin and leap,
sometime, behind me will creep . . .
I wake each morn with kitty in my thoughts !
when out birding, woodpeckers are one of my favorite finds
in Kentucky, where i live there are seven different kinds
the smallest is the Downy and they seem to like my suet feeders best
I always see them in a pair so I hope nearby is their nest
next we have the Hairy and its just bigger by a bit
in the evenings they seem most active so I like to go outside and sit
a Red Bellied woodpecker visits one of my trees each day
I am pretty sure when I hear its call it asking me to play
Northern Flickers have speckles and a black patch on its chest
Its feathers are mostly brown, and not black and white like the rest
Yellow Bellied Sapsucker is my favorite one to say
I spotted my very first one in a field of flowers on a hot summer day
the Pileated is the largest and loudest and a majestic one to see
they like to make their nests in the cavity of a large dead tree
the last is the wood-cockaded that I have yet to spot
its rare and likes pine forests but I will give it my best shot
Sleeping in blossoms, plush pillows!
Fleeting dreams, of pink, cloud billows.
Red, orange, purple and golden,
spread over green park, so olden.
Soft, the sighs, as hummingbird flies,
Oft' plagued by purple martin cries.
Falling through petals ~ deep, downy.
Crawling time, scented and drowsy.
Steel insulation warm thin hot smooth downy shepherd smoothness. Pistol clasps palms crystal misses birching basket weavers.
Fluffy firm pedestals release hard deniers.
Doldrum office charts demonstrating
Appendages conceal resistance.
Halcyon boogie board heroes.
Greek play rehearsal.
Steel insulation warm thin hot smooth downy shepherd smoothness. Pistol clasps palms crystal misses birching basket weavers.
Fluffy firm pedestals release hard deniers.
Doldrum office charts demonstrating
Appendages conceal resistance.
Halcyon boogie board heroes.
Greek play rehearsal.
A crystal-pin prick at the beginning
a monumental vagueness at the end
the art of carving peace seems quite lost again
in between granite slabs-a tangle of black tragedies
and tiny clusters of downy light upon a peaceful being
The selfishness of flesh drifting atop the brine
in an endless maze of the triggered mind
where blue devils tap dance so raggedly
around the splintered sundial of God time
Peer at your reflection, see with their eyes,
the bloom of roses in soft, downy cheek.
Rigid, cold looking glass, no warmth to seek.
All life must wither and the moon must rise.
Each believes they hold to the pastel posy.
Change begins with frigid wind of slate gray.
Turn then, to me, see your soul's eternal day.
I, blind to time see you forever rosy.
In beauty you bask in each longing look.
Though your surrounded, each eye is your own.
Clouds of admiration but ever alone.
When night falls, I'll be the sun you forsook.
A downy feather slowly drifted...down
and gently settled upon the ground.
Full on, an innocent bird was struck
by an Amazon delivery truck...
whose driver, high on crystal meth, was wired,
yet, on this thirty-hour shift, was tired.
His mission was to deliver a poem,
speeding past the carnage below him...
which included a useful piece of fluff.
A mother bird grabbed a bit of that stuff
and used it for her little homemade nest.
With two young chicks, she thought it was the best...
thing to line their bed, just the right size,
not knowing it contained my ears and eyes.
I, the avian victim of that crash,
was the bird the delivery van did smash...
and so, unnoticed, I watched the chicks
as their mom went out to get some sticks
but those chicks would soon be out of luck.
Their mom was killed by a delivery truck...
driven by a drug fiend, who drove so swift,
with blood red eyes, on his thirty-hour shift.
So those poor nestlings grew up alone
'til they ventured to the great unknown...
where they met a fate, tragic and unfair -
an Amazon delivery truck was there
to both smash those birds and pulverize.
So here's your Halloween poem - surprise!
In the tranquil embrace of twilight's grace,
Hush, little one, the stars trace
A path of shimmering, silver light,
Cradling you through the velvet night.
Moonbeams pirouette, a celestial ballet,
Whispering sweet nothings as they play
Upon your downy head, so dear,
Lulling you into dreams, crystal clear.
The willow's branches, they do sway,
As zephyrs hum a tender lay,
A serenade to rock you tight,
Under the watchful eye of night.
Beneath the cosmos' endless sprawl,
The world is hushed, a serene shawl,
Embracing all in slumber's hold,
While dreams for you, the universe unfolds.
The night's embrace, a tender lull,
As stars and moon in beauty mull,
The precious gift of you, asleep,
In dreams where all your treasures keep.
So, close your eyes, my cherub bright,
Let go of day, embrace the night,
In my embrace, your soul at ease,
Sleep, my love, with the world, in peace.
For in this moment, time stands still,
In the quietude, we find our will,
To dream, to love, to be as one,
Until the morning breaks, my sweet one.
Picture # 4
Santa had a tiny elf
His feet were growing large
And everywhere Santa went
The elf's big feet would sparge
Santa spent so much time
Making the elf new shoes
Because it was late spring
Snow melt did ooze and ooze
Everyone knew when he was near
Because his feet smelled like cheese
Old, old stinky parmesan
Others would tease and tease
Santa needed a solution
To this big problem, so
He asked all the boys and girls
To send him answer though
He received so many letters
With answers quite clever
From soaking his feet in tea
To changing the weather
Santa was busy answering
All those long dear letters
He could not make any new toys
His mind was tied in terrors
Mrs. Claus came up with a solution
So, they could get back on track
Now everyone is happy
And filling Santa's sack
I know you want to know the secret
That helped those stinky feet
She took tiny elf to the doctor
Who prescribed some meds sweet
Anti-fungal tablets to take
Powder like downy sheets
Lots of soap and water to clean
Clean socks, oh! a great treat
disrespected demons demanded
Des Moines delegates demolish D, a demi-god.
disgusted demoralized downy ducks
demoted demons, discussed by Danny Dod.
Des Moines demonstrators decreed demons delightful
while downing demi-tasse.
D, a demi-god, demoted demure ducks
during democratic demonstration, of Doss.
Quote By: Nat King Cole, "You call it madness but I call it love "
A whisper of dreams landing on my pillow
arriving on the nightstands of amber afterglows
surrender to me and we'll take it nice and slow
gazing softly in each others eyes, by candle glow
A whisper of dreams soaring like two eagles
we will match our wings of glory to the seagulls
then fly towards the moon with passion's equal
in sotto voce voices, gleaned and culled
A whisper of dreams stitched by mere desire
with every longing quenched we will retire
to the mountain top where stars suspire
extracting from the sky an Angel's fire
Burning every bridge we'll swivel up forever,
like two matching weightless, downy feathers.
Quote: Some believe bluebirds are a symbol of joy and hope or good news arriving soon. Others think of them as a connection between the living and deceased.
Before your eyes on a warm day of spring you see the first sunrise
and then you see a little fellow in the skies,
a tiny specimen braving a morning song just before your eyes
Atop a tree he flies only to sit on a cup shaped woven nest
she shouts for joy to her little ones
there are 6 nestling bluebirds with no downy feathers on their chest
Tiny peep peep peeps come out of their loosely weaved hotbed
mama feeds them with her eager beak
while daddy goes Tu-a-wee, Tu-a-wee, then waits until their fed
Three weeks old and ready to fly they flap incessantly
until they learn to fly
aiming for a clear blue the sky they soar towards eternity
Six baby bluebirds finally, ... on their way.
The docile ducks toddle out in the sunny morn,
being in the winding file they are never forlorn.
In fluffy random rows the downy ducklings trail,
their frisky frolics aren’t ever listless and stale.
In curly webbed feet ducks scamper to a pond,
where the dancing lilac lilies they find so fond.
In the sunburst dulcet dawn under the sky blue
they slide with the symphony of the spring hue.
Sparkle of gold and emerald splashes all around,
the wrinkled reflections in crystal water abound,
performing in concert with the playful duck pack
on the sound track of their synchronized quack.
In chorus they intone the duck song of harmony,
resonating in the rhythmic reeds swaying in glee.
The rows of the fashioned feathers slickly swing
in the lilt of rippling zephyr of serenading spring.
Mama Mallard's hatchlings so downy and sweet,
she's proud to show them, springtime is complete,
waddling along the lake with her brood in tow,
Daddy Mallard quacks as people stroll to and fro,
decked in pastel clothes with cameras in hand,
photographing the baby ducks on a weekend grand.
The baby ducks in April are here,
toddlers feed them, grinning ear to ear.
Daffodils bright yellow, honeybees full of pollen,
Mama Mallard leads them to water, all in.
Spring brings animal babies to the earth,
we delight at their sight as we're full of mirth.
Related Poems