Waving daisies, Spikey grass.
Tree branch swords and running fast.
Collecting stones, spider's and worms.
A tire swing with new friends,
We're taking in turns!
Close your eyes, do not peek.
Count to ten, play hide and seek.
Some have seesaws, most have slides,
My favourite are the bars to climb.
Mum packed snacks, picnic munch
Parks are great to eat your lunch!
Fallen acorns, giant leafs, and resting under shady trees.
I love the park , its fun to play.
Spending time here every day.
the silver birch
it likes to hide
so as you search
at eventide
you find it there with many friends
playing poker through the night
the common oak
a wise old man
an aging folk
since time began
grandfathers of the forest they
speak myth and folklore when they can
the sycamore
with helicopter seeds
sets out its store
among the weeds
then grows to be big and strong
from people’s picnics on which it feeds
the horse chestnut
is the conker tree
the children’s favourite
but too spikey
until they are ready later on
and why kids were late home for tea
the yew
is old
and grew
so slow
its age is in millennia
and battles from the archer’s bow
the hawthorn
its blossom white
and at dawn
as if it snowed all night
then all too soon the white has gone
a desperate case of bad stage fright
the conifer
fir, spruce and pine
a regular
likes mead and wine
to keep it warm in winter then
comes into homes at Christmas time
verdent leaves
spikey, pointed,
symmetrical, heart-shaped,
walnuts, oak, maple
one lone elm
unseen in Kansas for awhile
crickets are buzzing
grating commercial airline sound
buzzing, trilling, droning
the forest is alive
insects chirping and chattering
one loud angry caw
clop clop clop
ha ha ha
locusts add to the orchestra
Sharp, spikey
in green coat
weed?
That time when Jesus walked among men
has long passed, only faint images remain;
and the curious crowds followed Him everywhere:
they heard a wisdom from the mouth of dare!
Herod was a savage: the king of Jerusalem;
too jealous he was of the humble Messiah
who taught miserable men the beautiful truth:
the holiest man that ever lived was Abraham!
Christ paved the smooth way of righteousness,
He embraced all leaving not a soul to wonder;
they listened and felt divine love in plain words...
the Pharasies gnashed their teeth showing fear!
Walking barefoot on spikey stones made Christ bleed accasionlly,
they weren't kind to the Savior who dragged the heavy cross;
the red blood dripping from His crown was mixed with tears....
He fell three tim, then Simon carried His cross to brutal Calvary!
Let's get this out front
I think I'm in love
With an angel who flies
In the sky high above
My protector, she guides
Or calls down when required
When the future gets tangled
Or perception gets mired
In the thicket of doubt
With it's grey spikey temptress
Angel gently release me;
From unnecessary distress
For my wandering life
Or my future, corrupted
With a laser like focus
Evil plans you've disrupted
Those mysterious voices
With felonious intent
Propaganda or fear
On distraction are bent
A dangerous flight-path
Is neutralised quickly
You're healing my heart
When it's troubled or sickly
Destiny Angel -
Here's my heart, you can keep it
I rely on your power to discern
As you see fit
Let me trust in the future
In you, I believe
As high in the heavens
You dance and you weave
A light laden tapestry
An angelic balm
Such heavenly presence
Of colour and calm
Oh restorative angel
You release me from fear
With a gentle persuasion
And your fore-sight so clear
As I wander unfettered
Through this life; go before me
My affection is clear, yet
Can I trust you'll adore me?
The first turn of a leaf, a constant reminder that summer is brief. The suns slow burn melts into the horizon leaving behind: a colourful show, a crisp autumn breeze and a sharp wind blow. Dark nights soon approach with the squawk of a crow, cold creeps in with the first fog grow. Green leaves fade to red the sight of conkers near. Spikey shields dropping from branches Mother Nature we ought to fear. A crisp crunch of a leaf that once danced to its demise. One of springs creations now drowned out by summers cries. The veil to the under world wears thin, celebrating Halloween by carving a pumpkin. Animals stock up on food supplies autumn a preparation for winter’s surprise.
ice crystals rest on my window
like a second skin
a season's restless spirit
in water vapour
condensing
a winter picture frame
spheres of spikey stains
in a silent closing
patterns complete
symmetry looping
luring
ice flowers tangible
that carve their way
down my window
till a warming sun
swallows them whole
Poem composed January 29, 2023
Dry river mystery
The river in the domestic landscape was not as big
as it used to be, for years, the rain upland fell sparsely
when the hot summer came, the river dried up.
The river bed was eerily white with a massive overhang
spikey plants as a scar of lumpy skin after heart surgery.
Of the farmer’s four children, three liked to play
in this mysterious scenery of skull-like rocks, when lifted
had pockets of water like there was a hidden stream
under the bed, the fourth child had an instinctive fear
of the dry river’s strangeness and kept away.
When the summer was over, rain of epic proportion
came to the mountain where the river’s nascent began.
Suddenly a wall of water ran faster than a train
drowning all in its rouse to meet the sea.
The farmer whose wife had died when giving birth
to the fourth child was devasted, those will lose
tongues blamed him for being thoughtless.
Of the surviving child, nothing is known, fading away
as never born.
behind my last
word
and letter
is the wh
missing the why
Yet a yeti without an eye
rattle the door
to give them a scare
the Baritone sax
the all knowing facts
spikey haired to the max.
Still until the still is still
cloned myself twice
hoping one of them
will end me
is the wh just waiting on the at
I hear its scary voice
Approaching my scope
I hear its ruffling footsteps
Walking through my door
Wildly opening its arms
I feel its spikey claws crawling on me
Digging deep inside me
Pouching my soul
And neglecting my body on the old mat
A brand new documentary
A first for archeology
The Western Wailing Woolysaur
He’d never spotted one before
Neither had he seen one dead
It’s very spikey and it’s red
The spikes it has are everywhere
Some poke through its wooly hair
It’s wailing cries assault the ears
Imagine the primeval fears
Of prey that found this crimson beast
With all its spines, prepared to feast
He found it so he named it thus
Woolus Attenboroughcus
The cameraman said don’t be dense
That sheep’s caught in a barbed wire fence
How did the jungle get here?
Did it come on a train
like an old time circus
rolling in before dawn
while we splattered safety-nets
with doomsday drivel.
A rainforest has invaded;
has manifested out of alarm and
a far too high quotient
of native dumbness.
The clacking of parrots
mutes the lowing of milk cows,
only the cicada drone on
happy to click along.
This green thunder is oppressive.
The domestic canopies of backyards
are sprouting mythic Triffids.
Grass is getting spikey and carnivorous.
Tabby cats are abducted
by prowling panthers.
Giant sloths hang from the hedgerows.
Did we dream up this primal Eden?
Did we cancel
the regular unpredictable weather
of predictable Ohio?
Global Warming
could never have appeared to be real
if we had not made it so
by thinking it so,
and as so many here
think very little -
we had it coming.
How did the jungle get here?
Did it come on a train
like an old time circus
rolling in before dawn
while we splattered mind-nets
with our secrets?
A rainforest has invaded;
has manifested out of alarm and
a far too high quotient
of native dumbness.
The clacking of parrots
drowns out far off whale songs,
mutes the lowing of milk cows,
only the cicada drone on
happy to click along.
This green thunder is oppressive.
The domestic canopies of backyards
are sprouting mythical Triffids.
Grass is getting spikey and carnivorous.
Tabby cat are being abducted
by roaming panthers.
Giant sloths hang from the hedgerows.
Did we dream up this primal Eden?
Did we cancel
the regular unpredictable weather
of predictable Ohio?
Global Warming
could never have appeared to be real
if we had not made it so
by thinking it so,
and as so many here
think very little -
we had it coming.
Daddy brought it home to mother
She did not like it at all, in fact it made her angry
Those innocent tough spikey, sword-shaped leaves
Centered with white rosettes in tight buds caused anger
Today when I see those buds appear
I think of you~ Sadness wrenches my heart
You meant well and that Yucca has spread
There are many white rosette buds dripping dew and rain
You called it bear grass while laughing
Finding it in the woods you dug it up
Those rosettes still in bud waiting to open
Mother did not laugh~ she wanted a lilac bush
Years later I told my husband not to dig it up
Let it stay, memories flood my heart, mind and soul
Each spring when the spikes appear straight and strong
Loaded with rosettes of your laughter~ my grief wanes
Then joy fills my being because
Yucca's creamy buds remind me of your love and joy
How your emotions could change
When seeing the beauty of the simple Yucca buds
I think you were a poet and romantic at heart
I know this is not a quatrain but is more free verse.
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