Tag: sonnet
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Poem 8
what would a lion write of the hunter?what story would he tell – being hunted, didhe lead the hunter away from his pride?did he sacrifice himself to save his bride?what final thought went through his heart and head?did he think himself brave or the cowardas he fled from the realizationof a predator’s predator, his ownpredation…
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Poem 7
Too much knowledge exists to be truly wisein one lifetime. how were we to know? truthis but the carcass, feathers the facts thattailor the bird . . . what evidence revealswe all too often disregard – we of thesentimental persuasion, and victimsof formative faiths in our hostage years.Too much of faith remains to be truly…
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poem 6
it matters nothing that the screen is blankit matters nothing that the screen is filledthe flow of words, the stream of consciousness:do these matter? what matter? what meaningto find in these ancient letters – magicthat we scribble thus and it causes usto hallucinate in a predictablepattern we call reason or logic. yetreality abides not our…
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poem 5
searching for a couplet in the dim din of my mindjust a muddle and chaos do I find:too little sleep, too much worry, it alladds up to knock you down – a working stifffinds little peace throughout the week. you fallinto exhaustion’s ruts and wonder ifthe whole damn shitshow isn’t some viciouslie, some trick –…
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A Lilly for Willow
send a flower for our darling dogshe’s been our sunshine these stormy sevenyears but now the Cancer has her and Ican’t even breathe – the shear thought of her gonebleeds my heart to Black. Send a flowerfor my Sweetest wife – how her red, red heartbleeds as well to Black! Our mutual sunshineis ravaged, savaged…
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Yearend Challenge
to write 100 poems by midnight 1 Jan 2024.
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Kali Dances
we went to kinney’s down on sixth becausewe like the jukebox, filled with old jazz and bluesstandards and classics from the nineteen-twentieson. kali especially likes munk and dukeellington and hoagie carmichael, andkali sizzles when she dances, so weall kept her happy, pumping dollars oneafter another and in fives to keepthe music fresh and hopping as…
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undergods of creation
I have just set the sun in the sky, slightlyangled toward afternoon, when my ghost comesto tell me my images are againinfantile like a child drawing with crayons.where are the birds, the jet from chicagostreaming its way to houston, or perhapsa reiterated ‘v’ of migratingfowl—it is the season—and where those leaves,richly colored in the bright…
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Humiliation
this image of the eagles down at ourriver keeps recurring. this bald eagledives lazily, riding gravity, overthe water, skimming just over its top,and then shoots out its talons to grasp a fishbut something goes awry and the fish flopsseveral yards across the river surface.unconcerned, the eagle loops back intothe gloaming sky to make a second…
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Poet & Muse #197
or perhaps bitter . . .
Fringemonkey Scribbles 