Hour 20: Just a Jester
Laughing madcap with twisted grin
Man or mannequin, hatter or hare?
Needless cruelty or practical joke?
Omens in limerick, answers in riddles
Pallid painted harlequin
Tippy – Prompt Eighteen
Her name was Tippy, she was just a puppy.
Covered in black fur, with a white T on the chest.
Who was there every day after school.
Something didn’t feel right one day.
Hopping off the bus, I had no greeting.
Trusting the lies I was fed.
Until the truth had been exposed.
A little girl’s heart broke,
As trust crumpled in the wind.
Lil’ Red
They followed sly fox, through the cement surrounded trees.
Lil’ Red, keeping pace
With black bear,
Who’s ready to hibernate.
They see the sky-blue pink, poka~dotted, artistic walls
As they stroll along
Sucking the life,
From paint, into words
In ekphrastic forms.
Poets, the journeyman.
Into the woods they go,
To loose their minds
And find their souls.
Seeking~
Coffee, chocolate, stars
And the Unicorns.
©2016 Amanda Potter
RAILROAD TRACKS
on the back side of our property was a fence row,
and on the other side of that row was a railroad track;
berries grew on the fence and my Grandmother would
drag us back there to help her pluck those precious fruits
each season;
sometimes we would climb the fence and walk the rails –
picking u p spikes for our collection,
sometime my Grandmother,
always keen,
would know that danger loomed and scurry us
back over the fence,
then minutes later a train would clunk over the track
and toot a lonely toot for dirty children waving
on the fence line.
Michellia D. Wilson 8/14/2016
The Chili Peppers
Serenely, calmly walking
The girl-child, bear and fox.
They syncopate their steps
As they make their rhythmic way
Through the city of Angels.
All three are wild
In their own brazen ways.
Yet, also goal-oriented,
Motivated to reach their destination
Together on the album cover.
Hour 20 Not My Genre
Not my genre
I find it hard to describe
art, that I can’t get into.
No offense to the painter,
it’s all good and in the
pupils to remember.
Who?
Who do you trust, little girl.
A fox or a bear?
Who should lead, little one,
The kit or the cub?
Who do you love, little dear,
Can you make your choice clear?
Who do you know, little lass,
The sly or the crass?
Who?
Lue
August 14, 2016
promise of wings
The fairy girl and her mates set off on a journey
The red fox strides ahead
The black bear by her side
The fox and the bear decide the fairy girl -too young to see the carnage
Taking the roundabout route
They are to see a shaman about getting her real fairy wings
The fairy girl skips and giggles
Her laughter chimes in their ears
She sings songs and hugs their necks
The fox and the bear trudged through the slaughter
Smelt the scourged flesh
The fairy girl must never see any of this
Or she will never get her wings.
5
Warm skin
Even warmer
Glistening in the heat.
Sun~kissed glass
As I open the door
Shiny metal burns me.
I freeze in pain
Plastic slits of dash throw air
Like razor ice~cubes at me.
Sweet delicious grinning goosebumps
Make me laugh in glee
Locking it all inside with me.
I shut the door
And smile at the sky
Ahhhhhhh~Technology!