Sunday Football Fans

Fussy Little Forms: Chained Rhyme

We’re linking some rhymes in the Garden

Sunday Football Fans

Ardent fan with painted face
Trace of human coloring gone
Drawn instead in greens and blues
Hues unnatural and strange
Exchange taunts with those who cheer
Sincere(ly) for the other team
Scream as if his life will end
Offend some other sitting near
Atmosphere becomes more tense
Defense makes a crucial play
They forget the slight and hug
Chug a celebration beer
Spear the air with upraised hands
Stand together shout and sing
Cling to hopes of victory

 

Write or Flight

2017 November PAD Chapbook Challenge: Day 14
It’s Two-For-Tuesday again.
write a sonnet or another traditional form – or not

~

Write or Flight

this poem is in hiding
until its fear of
con-form(ing)
passes

 

it is considering
hermit-hood
peaking through a
gap in the curtains

 

waiting for this
form(ula) of cadence
to march away
leaving it in rhyme-less peace

 

Wild In My Backyard

 

Day eleven at NaPoWriMo has us writing a Bop- a sort of sonnet+song

 

Wild In My Backyard – A Bop

The feeders are filled and I wait
For the return of goldfinches and
Chickadees to my little patch of backyard
With binoculars and field guide beside me
I sit by the window watching and hoping
To add a new species to my life-list

Until the hawk came

There was some drama brewing
As sparrows competed for the
Only empty housing option available
An unpainted box, nailed to the choke cherry tree
All morning they have flown in and out
Carrying small twigs and bits of found straw
Urgently building a nest for egg laying time
Singly focused- instinctively placing each piece

Until the hawk came

Squirrels were up to their old tricks
Trying to attack the feeder for an easy meal
But always thwarted by the black cone attached
To the pole that even their acrobatics could not defeat
And the first chipmunk of the year sits on the ground
Under the feeders stuffing it’s cheeks with dropped seeds

Until the hawk came

Life In My Hand

a firefly caught

I look at him

what have I got

the light is dim

here in the shade

it comes and goes

but in the glade

the sunlight flows

I told him lies

his light still shone

but if he dies

can I atone

returned to lawn

he’s quickly gone