The Poetry Marathon

(Hour 18) 15.30pm-16.30pm. PROMPT, genre/theme: “prose/animal”

Hmmm this was tough…

the not-so-scary chezzy bear

he isn’t a big scary bear : he’s my sweet chezzybear : dread bearded
beautiful boy poochybear

wins the heart : of all who meet or greet him : even the hearts
of those utterly heartless humans : who like cats

plays like a puppy : then acts embarrassed when caught

lickytongued : nose sniffing : curious to everything
wants to be involved : to learn new stuff
but not smart enough : to realise
two tennis balls : will never fit in his mouth : at once

big deep eyes guilt trips gullible folk : into sharing tasty human food

hates being left behind : follows me everywhere bear : loyalist of the loyal : chezzy bear
every day lifts me out of the pit chezzybear : wouldn’t know happiness : without my chezzybear

can sleep anywhere chezzy bear : spread-eagled on his back
snoring like the roaring forties : his only flaw : his god-awful farting

Hour 15: Lightning Averted Gaze.

strike from the sky,
you…like some deity,
as always, like…
Zeus…who intensified every living thing,
from out of the soul and into my mouth.
avoided eye contact, set the match of fire,
turned straight to gathering flame,
static, electric,
knew what you were doing,
intensified,
heat,
radiation,
energy,
lightning averted gaze,
can you hear the thundering? rapturous and violent, like you and I bid myself to your power.

Quiet #6

The train arrives and we get on quickly. All of us in our best dresses, tight bows in our curly hair. We try to ignore the shoving and jostling, as we talk to each other in half-murmured whispers. An aura of solemnity cloaking us, distinctly setting us apart from the jolly crowd.

Debby, my little sister stood silently hugging the train’s railing. When we arrived, she cried. A deep sense of rawness pouring out as her salty tears crumbled all her walls. Our mother stood clasping my arm as deep sobs wrack her body. Everyone attempted to hide their grief.

Street cats chase us out. Mom feeds them bread, scratching their furry heads and tummies playfully. Dad used to do that.

I think they know.

They snarl and hiss at me, baring their white teeth, hair on edge. Mom’s furious face is pointed at me.

I think she knows too.

Hidden in soft mist

Oak coffin buried

Church bells echoing

Hour 18 – Prose with Breaks

The Heart of a Hunter

---

Proud feline heritage
in a very tiny package.

She stalks the moth as if it were her dinner;
catching it, she spits it out and mewls.

Her need for love is balanced
by her desire to be ferocious,
and every cuddle session
can become a pouncing war.

Raised with dogs, she knows no fear,
but when you only weigh two pounds,
it’s easy to get hurt.

Someday she’ll be a tiger,
if only in her dreams.

---

amazing #18

People take for granted that animals have no feelings,

Given they can’t talk , there is so much they are concealing,

I think of the elephant and how they truly shed true tears,

You know they feel hurt, you can tell they have fears.

 

Elephants are majestic, loving beings of the earth,

Truly amazing mothers, nurturing when they give birth,

Closest beings to ourselves with emotions pure and true,

They are so stunning , in everything they do.

 

How people see any animal just as money or a hunting game,

Makes me feel sad for people, and hang my head down in shame,

We should embrace the natural beauty, of nature so very pure,

It is amazing how true it is , how love can be a cure.

Canary 

Cat

 

 

Affectionate in great heights

Yet humbly in its ways

Silently moving surely no sounds emanating

As if a passerby just passed in no noise at all

 

Cuddling in every season

Admiring much in great ways

Cuddling in a master a human being

Moving in such delight

 

Always be surprise in such unexpected ways

Life serenading in a cat’s way

 

 

2:07  PM  PST 14/08/2016

© ROY MARK AZANZA CORRALES

 

Given the time constraints

Everything you have brought to life is thriving

keep breathing soul into all things….

It is magic really,

All that has become….

Given the time constraints

 

Bats Bats Batties

Let’s talk
about those creatures who are the darkness,
who are the night.
Who are they? Bats.
Bats, those tiny palm-fulls of fur in flight.
Those big eyes and noses that glisten
like they’re
glazed with sugar syrup.
How are those sweet things the cause
of so much fear.
Rabies is over rated.
and the blood,
well, they don’t love
blood
so much as ripe juicy fruit and
whatever fat moths and plump bugs that can be sonarred on the summer breeze.

The Problem With Spiders and Flies

Was the spider’s parlor
draped with webs
when the fly entered?

Stupid fly.
Even the idiot Tuffet
had sense to run.