I watch the harbor through the falling snow
the sky and sea form one vast, gray tableau
the sun is nothing but a weak, background glow
the scene draws me, as if hypnotically.
Five mile’s lighthouse warnings go unvoiced
its strobes not lashing out, so what’s its point
it stands majestically but disappoints
replaced electronically
A tiny lobster boat makes its landward way
towards the inlet from the wider channel bay
a powdery blizzard is underway
which melts into the mirror sea.
Ospreys still hunt round the lobsterman's pride
snowflakes stain them as they soar and glide
other seabirds huddle side by side
shivering and crowing lividly.
Through the narrows the lonely boat steams
past icy Luddington Rock and East Breakwater's breech
its berths and moorings, within minutes reach
and sadly, it’s time for me to leave.
.
.
Songs for this:
Far Far Away (Charles Tone Mix) [feat. Brenda Boykin] by Tape Five
Hypnosis Theme (feat. Marina Quaisse) by Wax Tailor
Cold rain chuckles
Gurgles down the drain
Counting coup upon
A blurry windowpane
Birds huddle in bare trees
Dare not go aloft
Squirrels still hunt for food
Because the earth’s still soft
Lonely sits a spider’s web
Flecked in diamond dew
Shimmering in winter’s breath
Nor’easter comin’ through
John G. Lawless
©12/16/2022
It is time for the circled days
to hide their faces
on the far side of the fridge.
Dates and red letter reminders
clog the cyclic notches
on my prayer wheel.
The calendar dreams
always waking up too late
I recall how fish in a bowl
forget every seven seconds.
It helps, but date sharks
still hunt me down
when I mess up.
You can be a turtle, a deer, a buffalo, a dog, frog or a sphynx,
But you never know true love until you have fallen for a lynx.
I have a pair of them, and they adore me upside down and inside out.
They give me joy and companionship; they truly make me shout!
You may refer to them as bobcats, if you grew up seeing them this way.
No difference to Hansel and Gretel, they still hunt down their prey.
Their silent padded paws help them hunt with the best of the beast.
When they drag in their carnage, we have a wonderful meat feast!
They were found by me as babies after hunters got their mother.
They are happy with me, and even more happy with each other.
A brother and a sister, they like to prowl and hunt at night.
I sigh a relief when they come home, knowing they’re all right.
They can run fifty miles an hour, faster than most cars on our road.
I like watching them skedaddle, when they are in chase mode.
They like to curl at my feet and listen to stories, and sigh.
And no burglar has ever bothered me. Don’t you wonder why?
For eight months she carried her twins
only to give birth in her arctic snow den
for 18 months the cubs will suckle her milk
and a year later the cubs will finally venture out,
Her male cub grew to be 6 feet tall on all fours
but standing up he's a majestic four feet more
his sister a bit smaller but loves her seal meat too
bear noses smelling the seals 20 miles away on the floes,
They're insulated with blubber underneath their white fur
with paddle like huge paws when they want to swim
able to swim 60 miles if they're desperate for food
their designed for arctic swims as a general rule,
But these beautiful animals are becoming endangered
less ice means less seal meals to sustain them
becoming more dependent on other food sources
such as reindeer, vegetation, whale remains and rodents,
The Inuit arctic people still hunt them for food
but the hunting is regulated which is very good
these solitary polar bears need to be protected
or the 25,000 left will be gone forever.
11-23-17
IN THEIR EYES
I am the whirlwind, But in their eyes, I'm a passing fart
With a twitching stinking sound,
Although, I still make a noise
I am the sun, But in their eyes, I'm a flaming match
With only a flicker of light,
Although, I still shine and burn
I am a vampire, But in their eyes, I'm a whining mosquito
With only a sip of blood,
Although, I still hunt the night.
I am an Eagle , But in their eyes, I'm a simple Canary
With sweet voice of songs, commanding notes and not birds,
Although, I still command the sky.
I am an ocean, But in their eyes, I'm a miserly drop
With clingy network of pipes,
Although, I still wet the earth
I live my life for them, None is to be lonely,
For even the clichéic Island needs water around, I am not who I am, I am who they want me to be.
©PenGenius
My Primitive World
When people hear I live on an isle,
They ask me things that make me smile.
Like, “Do you gals still wear grass skirts,
And do you live in houses made of dirt?”
I tell them that I’m sitting here in my cave
Trying desperately myself, to behave.
I say I am wearing my skirt of grass
With my computer plugged into my a**!!
They seem to think that we are so primitive,
They wonder if our men are still very aggressive.
I tell them our men still hunt for the grub,
And then come home and beat us with their club.
It’s funny the things that some people believe,
And the way, certain things, they perceive.
Some seem to think we feed on one another,
I say, of course, I just ate my little brother!
Some even have the gall to think
That, to write, I still use a feather and ink.
They seem to forget I’m using a pc
Even as I sit here drinking my bush tea.
I tell them the only way they’d understand,
Is for them to visit my little island.
And living here is like being in paradise,
They simply have to see it thru natives’ eyes.
I have stopped dreaming about the dilapidating person,
And began to open the vital eyes of the forlorn reality,
Yet, if you observe the time’s dimension in milliseconds
Then you would realise the existence of dark shadows,
Lurking to fish ancient chaste villages for Today’s Special*,
Headlines switching from the wasteland to the desert,
As if a show screening for the mindless masses of meat**,
No sense of life!
And copious shadows still hunt puppets out of souls.
I have stopped dreaming about the pristine person
As I observed the wilderness in the city of Deer AlZoor,
Smiles did flourish in the small villages along the river,
Until the putrid puppets placed their powerful*** hands
On the soon-to-disappear persons of joy and glory,
The puppet’s contaminated minds removing all hope,
A move towards ethnic cleansing was just the start,
No sense of life!
And the shadows plan on barricading the city of Dar’a.
Sunday, 28th of September 2014
* metaphor for trying to find new ways to kill people
** consonance alliteration 'm' and meat is a metaphor for persons
*** consonance alliteration 'p'
and there are many more :P
It seems like we thrive from the adrenaline flow
While hunting the morning of the very first snow.
For all the mornings that we practically froze
When we can't feel our fingers, or the tips of our toes.
Yet, we still hunt day after day
In anticipation of the moment we can finally say
'I GOT A DEER' with a cheerful shout.
As we jump up and down and run all about.
We think it's skill, but it's mostly luck
That feeling we get when we get our first buck.
When we talk about the hunt, or the antler size
No one knows the real truth, 'cause everyone lies.
It's remembering our first hunt, as a girl or a boy
When we felt the excitement with a heart full of joy.
It's the fun that we have with our family and friends.
It's the sharing and experience that we hope never ends.
So, go deer hunting...just do it some day
Then you might understand what I'm trying to say.
Hunting deer is special to me
So, try it sometime and you'll find out and see.
In the mirror, I see my face melt away in shame
And, yet I still hunt for game
I hunt you down to catch some inspiration
I’m not looking for fame…
But, my heart’s pumping with anticipation
Why do they put labels on me? Why do I devour their debris?
Perhaps, it makes them feel satisfied… to know that I had a psychotic breakdown
Why me? How did I end up in a mental institution? I wish I could flee…
I wish I could…I wish I knew
The true answers…but I’m left to question my own actions…
Not to seek satisfactions…
I want to be set free…
From poverty…
angst…
and anxiety…
I tell the voices in my head to leave…
In Christ’s name, will you leave?
Just let me breathe for a second or two…
Didn’t I tell you
To leave? I grieve for your safety, sis,
But I think you think I’m crazy…tell me if I am, miss…
And still – there’s questions left unanswered…
I feel awkward…
Staring at a blank screen before me…
I see my past unwind – set me free…
Let me be…
Can’t you see…
You are bothering me?
Should I just move on with life?
Could He delete all of my strife?
Could he or she stab me with a knife?
I’m all alone…
And, yet I don’t groan
For solitude is my best friend
Until the very end…
Globalization's march toward a one world government,
has changed our perceptions,internationally...
geographic borders were latitude and longtitude,
now,it's all about the choreography of attitude...
Hunter gatherers forced search for subsistence,
as work at home becomes non-existent...
migrant workers in check 'cause of documents,
while family at home go hungry without supermarket...
Pre-historic hunters and gatherers,nothing has changed,
we still hunt for and gather our needs
just more conveniently...or for some...unconventionally
World trade and the market economy,
checks in the bank....as,checks at the border,
growing pains while we shift to new order.....