Of the day
Crane
Peaky
Leafy
Heady
Beady
Hour 2 – A Close Encounter
Crow and the fox
Old lady was frying vadas(1) in the open
Crispy, golden brown makes your mouth water
Hungry as she was, a crow dived down like a bomber
The best looking vada it snatched
Settling on the boughs of a mango tree
The treat she began to savor ever so slowly.
Down came a sly fox with evil designs on the vada
” Oh you beautiful crow!
Surely your voice is as great as your person
Sing a song for me you nightingale”
Thought the fox, ” the moron would open her mouth
Down on the floor will be the vada
Oh , the taste I will enjoy does give goosebumps all over”
A confused look did the crow sport on her face
Hopped left and right on the bough
A thoughtful frown filled her eyes
Ever so carefully did she balance the vada on the bough
And sang thus, ” hear this mournful melody you silly fox
Smart and half are you
Alas! I am smarter than you!”
The fox slunk away with the tail between his legs
________
1. Vada – deep fried, donut-like savory made with lentil and spices, originated in South India, popular now all over.
Melancholy
Sometimes I go sunny yellow
Taxi cab yellow
Hey, you Talkin to me?
Yellow
On my nails.
Click click click
I rarely feel sunny.
I’m more a mauve half dried
Half rotting petal
On the rose kind of girl.
Or blue dripping into black
Dragging me along
Without any marks of resistance.
But don’t you ever just want to feel it?
Sunny?
I do.
I blast across my nails hoping it can hitch a ride
Up my veins, arteries
Pump to the heart and get pushed
Everywhere.
Probably looks odd
Yellow nails screaming
But dead eyes
Splotchy gaze
Unfocused pupils.
The lips try their part
Royal purple mats
Red slippery glosses
But alas.
Nails, lips, fuzzy shoes
All the things screaming FUN!
Nothing can cover over glazed eyes.
Excitement from within.
She wants a hit
For now she costumes up
Trying to take it til she makes it.
Then her nails can finally go bare
Prompt 14: Tale of Twelve Elve
Twelve elves, you know the story is true.
Twelve elves, and this is what they do—
One only watches for spelling botches,
Two takes tense and makes it make sense.
Three is malaprops, where the right word is dropped—
And another slips in, but should be stopped,
Like pantry and panty, not the same, you can see,
But even worse, when one is looking for tea!
4, 5 and 6, punctuation to fix,
And run-ons and splices—
Which aren’t the nicest.
Seven ate nine, the scene of the crime,
With cannibal fervor, and belches sublime.
And the rest of the crew, now scanning the page,
Mad at the others, are striking in rage,
And tap-dance on my keyboard in fitful rampage
Olnvdzi….?i0295-9@%@&&emWia949kalenaldand#—
Quit that, you three, and get back to the grind
of fixing my poems, for meter and rhyme…
Now, these twelve elves had a big task to do;
To edit the poems as we write quite a few,
But one by one, they’ve all fallen asleep.
Seems they stopped counting words
And now count the sheep.
Ewe are done a very good job, and breaks you should take:
Edit tomorrow, when the elves are awake.
Opposites Attract – Hour Fourteen
You’re the butter to my jelly
The ice cream to my cone
The waffle to my syrup
The lemon to my scone
You’re the creamer to my coffee
The ketchup to my fry
The sausage to my pizza
The corned beef to my rye
You’re the chocolate to my cupcake
The bacon to my toast
The cheddar to my burger
The carrots to my roast
For many different reasons
And many different ways
We’ll scale this world together
Until our dying days
We may be apples and oranges
If we’re being exact
But we’re still great for each other
Because opposites attract
The Communist Manifesto
Forcing it – a universal error in sports and Eastern philosophy.
To speak when silence is sufficient, or enough has been said –
the work of politicians and entertainers.
*shudder*
(but also a performative wink)
I have identified the problem!
A lack of the sublime.
Where did it go?
Who took it?
Spider and the Owl
We gathered around our elders, in a circle
It was story time
Anancy the Spider and Patou the Owl
Jamaican folklore, pit these two against each other
Anancy Mr. Bragadocious, had no humility
The Owl cannot see in the day
Both hosted a party
Patou the disc jockey
Anancy the look-out-man
His job to tell the Owl how close it was to daylight
Party in full swing and Patou had all the girls
Anancy plotted to embarrass Patou
Everytime Patou would check with Anancy , how late it was
He would say all is well
Patou played way into the morning and at daylight Anancy opened the door, sun streaming in shouting to all Patou’s admirers
“See the man you’ve been fawning over
Do you see how ugly he is?”
From that day the Owl has never been seen in the day.
The Owl does his best work at night.
Spilled Ink, a lune
Spilled Ink, a lune
Writers gathered together
Passionately reading their scripted words
Into the microphone
Poets and authors
On the stage
Invigorated