Thoughts-- drips becoming rivulets merging with creeks flowing into rivers creating puddles and pools backing up stagnating dry washes until new thoughts replace them in drips drops and drabs. It all flows downhill renewed re-energized unstoppable cataracts rapids hopping skipping, tumbling over rocks and occasionally themselves.
To celebrate, enjoy a brew If it tastes good, then make it two Poets, preachers and just plain sinners All agree that it's a winner Except to me, its just a waste I've never been able to acquire the taste. Cheers!
People are like Easter eggs of many different hues some you find immediately others found with clues A few of them are basket cases some of them are rotten some of them just roll arouond others lie in cotton You cannot always judge the egg by the color of it's shell Pretty is as pretty does You need the taste and smell
Cannonade of gusts Aimlessly butcher branches Warfare windblown style.
I tried to write a Zombie poem but all my thoughts went numb Maybe the Zombie ate my brain which is why this poem is dumb. Last night while I was fast asleep, he dined upon my brains leaving a mass of noodled thoughts like limp spaghetti strains
Poetry month is here once more just like it was the year before Limericks, sonnets, and other forms follow rules and the usual norms Some poems seem to meander around with a purpose that is seldom found Ego poetry is not a gift Like an unwanted guitar riff Some like structure, some like rhyme some think it is quite sublime Other think of Dr. Suess While other wonder what's the use. I'll try to write a poem a day Even with nothing worth while to say.
Windswept clouds surf along the Blue Ridge Mountains soaring over the ridge lines only to dip into the hollows before exploding upwards in a burst of white and gray spray
Do as I say not as I do because I know much better than you Send me your money my PAC is the best more honest and trusted than the all of the rest I love my base they love me back No one will listen to your false attacks What you don't know can't hurt me I say ahead of the law I'll continue to stay From white house to big house I travel along Continuing to sing my siren's song
Awaiting vaccine Appointment at CVS icicles forming Chill penetrating car, coat, sweatshirt, t-shirt, skin time spirals backward Incisors of ice guard the maw of the trashcan obstacles abound People slip around helping each other, no falls today. Ice loses.
A snowman's diet only requires warm sunshine Easy reduction First days of diet water loss is not really the same. Sauna helps.
I don’t normally use poetry prompts and decided to use the first prompt from Five Poetry Prompts from Writing it Forward
His steel-like policy was not worth saving. Its rigid ideology an imitation trumped up from some other theory chiseled in the quicksand of ego.
At dVerse Grace is hosting Meeting the Bar with an invitation to personification and imagery.
“But what about those windy spring days? You know the drill, you fight the sheets onto the line. Then the wind catches them and makes them want to sail into the next country!” The Texas Homesteader
The Next Dance Sick of line dancing, she wanted to cut loose with a tango or a foxtrot, even a rouge can-can would do it and, once safely pegged, she gave herself to the sea breeze throwing her legs up, her head back, tossing her skirt about with laughter just like linen flapping in the wind, and soon the others joined in the fun, swirling and twirling along the good time, refreshed and waiting for the next dance in the sun. ©Paul Vincent Cannon
Priscilla Bettis has written seven original and totally fresh Halloween Haikus. Since she’s a horror writer, I am guessing she came by this ability unnaturally (since it’s Halloween) and exercised her penchant for the eery with her normal writings.
When I was born they helped me hear
The original function of the ear.
Next, they helped hold back my hair
so my eyes could glance, or see, or stare
Earbuds were inserted for music and song
Before Bluetooth cell phones came along
Then vanity was added on to hearing
When I pierced them and wore earrings
Next came glasses to better see
Letters no longer clear to me
Now that masks are daily wear
My ears have more than they can bear
Hearing aids not yet required
Nor or they as yet desired.
Brewster the Rooster thought that he was the one
To pleasure the hens and get the job done
But when came time to deliver the shipment
Poor Brewster failed–he lacked the equipment.
Reblogged from Words and Music and Stories. Make sure you read the fun quarantine limerick.
Observed annually on May 12th, National Limerick Day celebrates the birthday of English artist, illustrator, author, and poet Edward Lear (12 May 1812 – 29 January 1888)
The 30th poem on the 30th day
This race is over, Hiphiphooray.
I persevered and now I’m done.
The Poetry Month marathon is won.
Pretzel shapes are varied
Like knots, or twists or loops
The baker decides upon the form
From the pretzel dough he scoops
Nature usually shapes the trees
Based upon the type
Unless mankind interfers
with his usual hype.
He grafts a twig upon a trunk
Intending to create
Something never seen before
But hopes it will be great.