End of the Thirty Day Challenge

Thirty days

of tying up
words

with
syllabic laces,

of forcing
words into

uncomfortable
places,

and wondering if
they have life

or drift into stasis.

Thirty days

of chasing the poet

through her paces.

Thirty days

of worrying
words to death

in most cases.

Doggerel

CHAPTER V.

LADIES' TOY DOGS

The Aristocratic Pug

settles down most admirably

in the ways of ease and luxury.

The Peevish Poodle might

in a temper bite.

Words slightly rearranged from an old book The Dog by Stonehenge,

Revised by George Armatage, printed in Great Britain (no date).

Twilight Fragment

The last brown bird

has hopped away

to nest in bushes

wrapped in shade

and under stars

that barely shine

the darkness slowly rises.

Stubborn Spring

It's still cold for spring,

but the twisted branches

are trying hard to obey

the later lingering light,

are trying hard to burst

into leaf, but hover in bud.



It's still cold for spring,

but I keep poking sticks

into the lawn, the garden,

the compost, the mulch,

distressed that the sticks

stop short

where the soil lies

cold and hard.

"I am still dead," says the soil.

"Leave me be, leave me free

of seeds and digging wigglers.

It's still cold for spring,

and I feel no Easter warmth

rising through my bones."



No wonder the twisted branches

cannot obey the pastel pink sunset

setting later daily

with such

stubborn

cold

soil

blanketing their tree-toes.

It Is Raining Again

It is raining again:

spare drops at 3 a.m.

steady spritz at 4:30,

a cup of tea and a walk

in the raining again;

fine droplets on one still pond at 6,

an anarchy of splatters on another

by noon, fed by

the rain again;

and the water streams

into streams,

floods flooded lawns,

bubbles mud puddles,

wets webs and mists nests,

all dripping drops

till it seems to stop

but no --

it is raining again.

Anaphora Leaning Back into the Mist

In ancient Chinese paintings

everything is mist:

mountain tops hint at massive

bases hidden in mist,

serpentine pathways

twist into distant mist,

water falls splash-free

into hissing mist,

solid temples and shelters

breathe mist

fabrics draping graceful figures

veil like mist,

perhaps a dark blade of bamboo

pierces the foreground mist,

but the stand behind

already lists into mist.




"Anaphora is a literary term for the practice of repeating certain words or phrases at the beginning of multiple clauses or, in the case of a poem, multiple lines." Today's prompt from - http://www.napowrimo.net/ --- My title, "Anaphora Leaning Back into the Mist" suggests my reversed use of anaphora, since the definition suggests the repetition occurs at the beginning of the lines, and I have placed mine at the end.

Oasis

Atomic ants trill on the TV

but I'm not afraid you see;

I can drown them out completely

with my wave sound machine

because I have the luxury

of only imaginary

fears.

Gray

wind runs whitecaps across the pond

rain splashes rapids into gullies



but on the lee side of the feeder

the yellow sun of one goldfinch

Learning to Sit

Cool granite bench with celadon lichen

gently rocks under me.



Sun-warmed Spring Azure

rubs his lower wings rhythmically.


Mated pair of geese drown out
a camera club and the waterfall
. . . briefly.



Woodpeckers' aligned holes

for a giant's flute

slant along a hollow tree.



Only quiet enough to frighten wildlife,

not to see them

but to hear them

slide or splash into the water,

scream and dive under leaf litter 

suddenly.



Wood frogs sound like ducks
(pleased with my knowledge)
but today they are

ducks

not wood frogs

(easy to fool me).




So when I return home

from sitting

I will look up the Spring Blooming Arbutus

to see



if it is.

Chase

driving for hours

we watched for

flowers

signs of spring

wildlife



while we were gone

a lone grouse

grazed our

cast off seeds

and left

Roadside

boxes for wood ducks

tilt over still water

reflecting a cell tower tree



platforms for osprey

top poles in silhouette against

massive white power plant scrubbers



stewards of the earth vie

with engineers of change

seeking balance in an unnaturalized world