Twiglets with both feet
I’ve tried it many ways
this dipping into life
I’ve timidly stuck in my toe
and shivering withdrew,
valiantly waded in waist high,
ballerina tiptoe style
but it just prolonged the agony.
I’ve thrown all caution to the wind
and dove headfirst into the deep
but somehow I didn’t like my head
covered before my feet.
Now, I think I’d recommend
springing, eyes open wide
into the deepest part
with both feet
screaming and kicking
and utterly indiscreet.
mindlovemisery Saturday’s Mix-silhouettes-prompt by Teresa
Shutterstock on Google images
I only ever saw you in silhouette
blocking out a space of bright
two-dimensional being of dark
that made the light around intense
I thought it was you that dazzled .
I guess it was peripheral vision
that distracted… I forgot to
look for your soul. I admit your
silhouette was well defined, sharp
but your detail was lost in blur,
fuzzy, indistinct like your caring,
your love, your commitment.
It finally came to me – I understood,
a silhouette is a stilled wind,
a static moment, a trick of light
and you never stirred me.
imaginarygarden get listed – July Imagined By grapeling
For this edition of get listed, see if you can bring the sounds of summer to the page – something missing, or maybe something just waiting to get noticed again. Please use at least 3 of these words (or reasonable variants): heat, bird, easy, fling, pass, sweat, corn, float, ice cream (that’s considered one), bright, cricket, dusk
Just at dusk, the heat turned down to bearable,
the bats come out of the attic and other dark places
darting, diving, in deranged flight chasing the skeeters,
gnats and moths, sating hunger in frenetic motion
and echolocation. Too high pitched, just a faint click,
and the drama goes on, to my ears, in almost silence.
In the far woods an owl whoos, another answers.
Mourning doves coo their melancholy song as a male
cardinal slashes the sky crying “Pretty, Pretty, Pretty.”
The easy sounds of summer comfort me like a lullaby.
Twiglets A Cool Verandah
When I was growing up
I’d sit with Aunt Letitia
on the verandah late after
noons drinking lemonade,
eating gingersnap cookies,
watching the fireflies begin
their shy twinkle of love
sirens in the tall grass.
I miss those days with
Aunt Letitia but iced tea
and Oreos with you on the
front porch is pretty nice, too.
Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie Saturday’s Mix with Teresa
and imaginarygarden The Tuesday Platform By Marian
The wind speaks in many tongues…
in the rustling of leaves
the roar of the hurricane
howl of a squall
the maelstrom of tornado
and the whisper of butterfly wings
stirring the air.
She whistles round the corners
she screeches through eaves
she moans down the chimney
she sings in the chimes
and chants in the reeds
with patois rich and holy
like a beseeching prayer.
mindlovemiserys “It’s All in the Title”
A river of time
streams behind me
as I stand in this moment
watching the water
flowing toward me.
Then this moment is gone.
Soon I’ll be gone,
and you’ll be gone,
then we’ll just be
shadows of memory
wavering in the stream.
imaginarygarden FASHION ME YOUR WORDS TO FOLD ~ Ergo Imagined By Gillena Cox
Dead fly on the window ledge
nothing to show why
it suddenly dropped dead.
I throw it away
as though it were nothing,
as though its short life trifling.
It touches me not. No tears,
no lament, plunked into a wastebasket.
I go on with my life.
I think of deaths
of people I’ve never seen
in cities I don’t know
in a hospital,a hospice bed,
a car crash, old age, suicide.
I hope they were mourned,
But it touches me only in passing,
otherwise, I would die
under its weight
or at least go mad.
Today we are revisiting [or visiting]
Peanuts a syndicated daily and Sunday American comic strip written and illustrated by Charles M. Schulz, which ran from October 2, 1950, to February 13, 2000, continuing in reruns afterward…with philosophical, psychological, and sociological overtones… the characters’ interactions form a tangle of relationships.
Peruse the Peanuts cartoons shown [click for larger views], ponder them in a fresh new light, studying each character, until, you think you have found yourself in one of them, OR the nearest possibility of yourself, at the time of your reading here at Toads.
imaginarygarden Literary Excursions with Kerry ~ Metafiction
She’s a shoe string that won’t stay tied
dares you to double knot her, pull tight,
she’ll still slip loose like a boat and drift
the currents and tides of her fancies.
You can’t pin her down like a butterfly
in a frame, not even with golden pins
she’ll grin and wriggle away.
She is an enigma, a fairy tale, a fable
with a moral at the end. Truth, fiction,
fantasy and cold, hard fact. She’s words-
worth and a p(l)ath through the fields,
a pound of wilde, a frost that burns.
(See what I did there?) And now she’s donne…
till the next poem is written in the sand.
The Twiglets “The Color of Mud”
The color of mud pies,
like luscious chocolate
tarts dressed in nature’s
frills of daisy petals fanned,
Rose of Sharon crepe blooms,
violets and clover and fern’s
lacy curls presented to mother
with muddy hands.
imaginarygarden The Tuesday Platform Imagined By Kerry O’Connor
I didn’t choose solitude
solitude chose me.
slash, clash, smash
of the world bruised
my soul till I could not
hear the song of the lark,
the music of the wind,
the wisdom of the clouds,
the slow, steady pulse
of the earth’s heart
so I began to withdraw
to the subtle call of quiet.
She soothes my spirit with whispers,
calms with colors of luscious
goose grey storms
and red roses, too.
She tosses the static…
the spark of strife away.
Even this room from which
I write is so quiet
I can hear a faint hum,
a strum of OM
Solitude chose me.