PS 52

The bottle spun

In Robin's basement

Pointing to you

for Robert Tacher who was not afraid..
Written for Haiku Heights, "forget me not"

Morovian Pink

Boa Constrictor

by Shel Silverstein

Oh, I'm being eaten

By a boa constrictor,

A boa constrictor

A boa constrictor


Damson Plum


You know her as
Moravian pink
Damson plum
She
Who takes your breath
Away

Plug your ears
Annul the contract
Do the deed
This is no time
For nostalgia
Either way
The heart is endangered.

written for real toads - 35 words or less...

Moravian pink

Take courage!
Cut the cord
Use whatever you have
Scissors, scythe, blade, teeth
Just cut it
Now

There will be no blood
She who calls herself
mother
Is hazard
Siren,
Red tailed imperator

You know her as
Moravian pink
Damson plum
She
Who takes your breath
Away

Plug your ears
Annul the contract
Do the deed
This is no time
For nostalgia
Either way
The heart is endangered.

Written for 3 word Wednesday (cut, endanger, hazard), poetry jam


Tags: anaconda, antediluvian, exorcism poems, hothouse dreams,  pretty poison, rue, succubus, you don’t know what love is

Damselflies

Damselflies

She veers
on the lip of dogma
Wide eyed
at the Chat 'n Chew
in Itasca


Backlit,
translucent
With promise
blousy as
Broadway


I am staking
the tomatoes
That grow heavy
in the heat
of July.

She pirouettes
without effort
or forethought
Faces
me square.

Mandibles
minding hunger
We catch
each other’s
glance

We are giving
everything
away.

written for OSI, "friends"

Sunday's rain

Sunday’s rain, the times

grow soggy—print blurs, I doze

and pull you closer.

This was my first attempt, 5-7-5.

Sunday's rain
print blurs--dozing I
pull you close

sparser still, 3-5-3.

Written for Haiku Heights, "vital"

Kite

Kite

A tatted tail snakes
her length
along a populated lawn,
calculating the odds
It is the first time
for this girl 
to run with the string
Just the same,

everybody knows
she has dragon blood.
It’s too bad
the air is being polite today
maybe in deference to
dizzying crowds
or an imminent squall
She takes the pulses

of the grasses
quivers
to the fragrance
of a thousand flowers
sings her blood
to summer's keel

---the thing is
they are ready
to fly.

Written for One Single Impression, prompt "kite" and Sunday Scribblings, prompt "stretch".