A quadrille for Dverse Poets Pub. It is quadrille Monday and De is hosting. She has gifted us the word “fill” or a variant of the word.
The Songs of Birds
“You care so much you feel as though you will bleed to death with the pain of it.” ― J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix
It is cold and rainy but the trees
are speaking with the voices of birds.
Their songs fill the air –
they must have known I was lonely and
needed a friendly chirp or two.
I wander around this empty house
like a ghost – weeping.
“One Day I’ll Fly Away” Photography by Hayley Roberts
One Day
“With a deep, visceral ache, she wished her true form might prove to be a sleek and shining one, like a stiletto blade slicing free of an ungainly sheath. Like a bird of prey losing its hatchling fluff to hunt in cold, magnificent skies. That she might become something glittering, something startling, something dangerous.” – Laini Taylor
I dreamed I was a bird – a sparrow
pecking at bread left in mercy on the snow.
I dreamed I was a hawk soaring over the
tops of trees and looking down at earth,
I dreamed I was a crow hopping happily down the road
and calling out loudly to the other other crows
to explore the shiny things I saw
by the side of the road.
I dreamed I was an eagle in a two ton nest
looking after my eggs.
I dreamed I was a falcon hunting down my prey
on the steppes of the Gobi desert,
and returning to the arm of my falconer with meat in my beak.
I dreamed I was an owl soaring under the silent stars
and between the trees. gliding, gliding.
I dreamed I was a bird
born wild and free.
I had all these dreams and more
as I became a bird –
For the Midweek Motif at Poets Unite – Dance. I was really into Disco in the 1970’s. Gay Pride and free dancing were all born in the discos.
Backyard Disco
“Up above my head I hear music in the air that makes me know there’s a party somewhere” – The Trammps, Disco Inferno
Bees go back and forth in
weaving do-si-dos,
butterflies soar and dip,
hummingbirds hover and then zip!
it is a disco inferno in my back yard –
how the creatures dance
and make me dance too
For Magaly’s prompt on Real Toads – Poetic Irony. I don’t do irony well. I’ve seen too much.
Remember when we used to drink coffee with the paper?
Breakfast of Champions
“Left of west and coming in a hurry with the Furies breathing down your neck” R.E.M. It’s the end of the world as we know it (and I feel fine).
We used to drink coffee while we
read the paper at breakfast.
Times became more dire.
Then we graduated to coffee cups of bourbon
and shot glasses of coffee.
Now we just skip it all
and pour Pappy Van Winkle’s Family Reserve
over our Cheerios.
We stopped reading the news –
It never changed for the better,
It just got worse.
Hey! If Pappy’s is good enough
for world class chefs,
it is good enough for me.
I stood outside on the back steps
listening to the birds this morning.
They don’t know that the world is ending.
I take the last bite of my Cheerios and drain the bowl.
“A few of us are going out after work to pretend it’s not the end of the world,
if you want to join us.”
For the Tuesday Platform at Real Toads. Because as Cole Porter once said in a song, It’s Too Darn Hot. So I am posting a tanka from back in the winter just to get cool.
copyright kanzensakura
Black and White
white snow black branches
breathe slowly while dreaming of
awakening spring
and birds huddle in tangled
tunnels warm and unafraid
For Frank Tassone’s Haikai Challenge: #Haikai Challenge #15 (1/6/18): Winter Storm or Artic cold #haiku #senryu #haibun #tanka #renga #haiga. Also posted for Real Toads Tuesday Platform.
Three haiku for the challenge:
winter storm brings snow –
birds huddle on branches fluffed
against the arctic cold
arctic cold freezes
snow into sheet of ice –
prowling cat slips slides
putting seeds out –
the winter storm is so cold
birds don’t fly away
My first posting ever for Hedgewitch’s Friday 55. I am spreading my wings a bit. Friday 55 December 15 2017
Birds mutter among themselves
The angel that tops the tree
always has a serene and mindless
look upon her face –
she holds a candle in each hand
pure white wings boldly spread.
The birds that peck on the sill
look in at her in wonder –
How can she look like that
with the tree sticking out of her ass?
Dreaming Corn
rows of corn dream under
the peach ice cream moon.
crickets drone and birds sleep.
the sun begins to rise in shades
of raspberryorangelemon sherbet
and already at 6:00 a.m. it is 90 degrees
worth of heat. Birds begin to
sing, talking to one another
as they fling themselves to the blue sky
and back to the corn.
the stalks of corn form a cathedral
built of tall green towers
and music of rustling leaves.
birds tell each other of ants on this stalk,
crickets hiding under a fallen stalk
and flying bugs buzzing about.
ripening ears listen to the gossip.
the heat is a sweat of moist green.
until at dusk the birds discuss sleep
and slowly grow silent.
rows of corn dream under
the peach ice cream moon.
Today is Quadrille Monday at the virtual pub – dVerse Poets Pub. Come join us for a day of quadrilles – a poem of exactly 44 words, not counting the title, and using the word of the prompter. Today, the pubtender is Kim Russell and her word of choice is “ghost” (or ghosted, ghosting, etc).
Windblown Birds
the winter day was sunny and warm
as a day in late spring –
And oh, so windy!
Birds were tossed into the sky –
they fluttered like windblown ghosts –
and rippled like long chiffon scarves,
snapping back and forth like pennants
I. (senryu)
sparrows skate on ice
gobbling seeds – cat sneaks, spies, stalks –
leaps, slips – birds snicker.
II. (Bussokusekika poetic form)
high up in my tree
playing the violin and
watching fall at play –
leaves swirl birds chirp creek gurgles –
I saw notes trying my best
squirrel yells at me – silence!
Orange cat, blue birds –
A drama of colors and
Fur and feathers,
Plays out daily. Sam Cat longs
To escape and wreak havoc.
Captured behind glass,
The Cat is a comedic
Display for the birds.
They tweet, hop about and tease.
How irksome! His whiskers twitch.
kanzen sakura 