Outdoors

[butters]

feisty stranger to our yard
stands her ground, head up
tail a-flick
a shiny statue
her ebon hide only blacker in the rain
sleeker, slicker, powerful, youthful
challenging mere mortals
to dare approach her intimidating mass
but still turns tail and cloven hoof
as the low white blur bears down—
barked threats and velocity
in the cause of pack-protection

 

[29wordsforsnow]

Dame Dahlia

the skies have shed their happy tears
blooming smiles all around here’s
what’s been a yellow-brown mess
put on a plush ballroom dress
pink princess with her entourage
of shy, keen girls of every age

 

[Piscator]

typos are funny... that inspires great imagery, sort of 18th-19th century brit woodcuts or newspaper adverts or a general description for the less-tightly buttoned bodiced ladies in mourning


''don't be a slack widow, keep your doorstep freshly scrubbed with Drudgesuds, daily!''

sigh my and my typos -and the idea of a slackwidow who plies her trade while hubby is becalmed at sea is interesting too .

 

[29wordsforsnow]

wild grass grows quickest
far from shrubs the thickest
whatever blossom may rise
within
the power mower will come to
and so
all beauty must die
and finally laid on grave
of its own
or a stranger's name
of words I am
over and out
.

 

[29wordsforsnow]

...
over and out

mmh, maybe not...yet

 

[29wordsforsnow]

Bee Gone

instead of home, in second best
on flowery pillow, you laid to sleep
teary nectar I will weep
your spirit now at final rest

 

[29wordsforsnow]

A strange hummingbird came around
given birth in my humble abode
its wings frequently asleep
brought nectar along

 

[29wordsforsnow]

Inspired by recent prosaic poetry The Fantastic Hotel by electricblue66

A fellow Literotican helped to identify this little beauty: it's indeed a wasp spider Argiope bruennichi. Actually a female one - in this case the very definition of one-night-stander; after mating the males end up as a source of essential amino acids...

this guy
most lucky
among hundreds
after moments
already spent
almost satisfied
she turns
and states
dinner time

 

[29wordsforsnow]

8 inches - no, thanks

Cold wind;
well below zero,
no matter who you ask,
Daniel or Anders;
came - with love from the far east -
and emptied Winter's blue balls.

Who likes snow anyway?

I said 'em, I swear it's true
all twenty-nine words for snow
- swearwords, if you must know -
even stopped counting, half-way through

Who loves snow anyway?

My bloody razor edge
delivers a close shave
to the concrete skin beside the hedge
so not-yet-angelic feet stay grounded,
if it just wasn't so compounded.
Oh, snow, why do you misbehave?

No one loves Snow anyway.

 

[29wordsforsnow]

Gardentalks

"Cutting at the base? Did you consider
flowers and bees would be gone?"
Composting the latest garden development plan,
her words seems to have deeper roots.
A read-between-the-lines-look budding,
should I mention the elder lady
with the lush backyard
offering to share her flowers?

 

[29wordsforsnow]

seducing noses
inhaling those's
inviting bed's
exploding roses
turning heads
ignoring etiquettes
​

 

[29wordsforsnow]

the autumned life leaves
blueskeyed illusions left behind
in front lines of no madmen's lands
growing, climbing on the trellis
humanity at the end of the line

 

[ElectricBlue]

A fellow Literotican helped to identify this little beauty: it's indeed a wasp spider Argiope bruennichi. Actually a female one - in this case the very definition of one-night-stander; after mating the males end up as a source of essential amino acids...

this guy
most lucky
among hundreds
after moments
already spent
almost satisfied
she turns
and states
dinner time

Hey! I just found this hidden away. Perfect colours for the wasp by the window; but I think my spider was far safer with the moth .

 

[Winter_Fare]

A wide eyed child
Composed of parts well travelled
Watched the sun descend
In hues of fire
Wondered how
The sky could be so different
From the picture books
Was it a lie?

In her mind's eye
The epic sunset lingered
As she learned to paint
The image grew
Til the masterpiece
Upon the canvas
Stilled the breath of
Everyone who saw.

Was it enough,
This pitiful impression?
Did it carry any
Grain of truth?
In despair
She crumpled up the picture
Put it on the compost heap
And cried

There it decayed
Among the kitchen refuse
Apple cores
And watermelon rinds
What was lost
Pursuing false perfection
Would someday feed the artist
Given time

And so it was
The verdant city garden
Bathed in sunlight
Only twice a day
Rejoiced anew
With every ruby sunset
And knew contentment
In the purest way

 

[GuiltyPleasure]

I built my house beside the wood
So I could hear you singing
And it was sweet and it was good
And love was all beginning

---------Leonard Cohen, Nightingale

On Hearing a Nightingale

As blossoms on the May trees burst
And April showers did their worst
I built my house beside the wood
It was a lonely life at first

But then I heard your voice one night
Throwing wide the casements light
So I could hear you singing
And watch you passing by in flight.

It was by moonlight you would sing,
You make the local woodlands ring
And it was sweet and it was good
When I reached out you’d taken wing

And so it was my life began
For I have no unfolding plan
You see, I am a simple man
And love was all beginning.