Category Archives: October

The Dopia

Grove upon grove
Of olive trees
Just growing
Into an eternity
Returning from antiquity
A thousand years
Or more
Ancient gnarled entwined
Their delightful purple harvest
Fruits of the gods
The olives
Ready for the press
The olive grove

The Wild Dogs

“Three
A pack of wild dogs
Feral scavengers
Yet not aggressive
Loveable in fact
Under coats of dust and dirt
Lie two
Trusting large brown eyes
Yet crafty canine eyes
Under a cover of partial mistrust
Likeable to look at
Barking howling
Squealing
Asking
“Where is my food?”
They bark to the
Ferals on the other side
Who in turn bark
In reply
“None here!”

 

The honey guide bird

With the cries of the birds
Perhaps the honey-guide
I come across a flounce of red flowers
In a pearlescent dusk
The bees must have a name for it
Lazy-blowing fragrance
Of the carnation border
They must have a name for it too
In bee language Honey flowers
Here and there More and more
As the branch Peeps over the garden wall
Until at length~ Tiny fragranced flowers close
And night has come

Howdy Partners

As a lover of old westerns, I remember the scenes of the town, just before the baddies ride in, or when the gold has finally run out in them thar hills.  The camera shows the empty street, dust swirling, saloon door swinging in the wind and then zooms in on a clump of tumbleweed rolling down the middle of the road…it’s a bit like that on our Cross Border Poets site now that StaPoWriMo has finished!

 

Dying Sunflower (a cinquain 2,4,6,8,2)

Dying Sunflower

Curling
at the edges,
a whorling maze of seeds
where goldfinches get lost inside
gorging.

 

 and another………….

Mushroom Magic

I let you see
cap, stem, gills.
But not my best trick.

Behind a curtain of leaves
I’m dealing with decay,
decomposing debris,
conjuring carbon into oak woods.

 

 

Long Distance

Death phoned me today;
it was quite a surprise.
Wrong number, I guess
but we talked anyway.
I was feeling so well
until the bell tolled
but a discourse on hell
made a change from cold calls
from the depths of Bengal
so we talked about life
and the end of it all
until time just ran out.
‘See you later’, I said.
That’s for certain, old friend
and the phone line went dead.