We planted rows of beans. Surrounded them with fencing – the kind to keep rabbits from nibbling on the tender shoots. We watered, weeded, cheered when their white flowers were pollinated by bees. Now we are holding a celebration in honor of fresh green beans.
Like a Merry-go-Round ride this old blue planet spins round and round – tilting now and then just to add a touch of seasoning, a smidge of reasoning far enough away from the flame of that burning star that we feel its spicy heat
This poem’s been dragged and bagged and now it’s lagging behind – trying to flag down some scallawag staggering by, wagging an extra word or two that it needs to snag if it’s ever going to be able to brag about itself properly, on paper
d’Verse Poets Pub – Quadrille # 137: Throwing Poem Stones Duck! De Jackson has us throwing stones at each other.
I rescued a katydid from the pool this morning, laying it gently on the deck, hoping it will dry out, crawl away. Rain is in the forecast, so I move it to a stone under a broad leaf. I hope it’s a lucky stone.
The needle dropped into the groove of the old 45- scratchy sounds of rock’n roll filled the room. Her hips and heart began to sway, images of a high school gym filled with teenagers floated behind her closed eyes, and she felt groovy again.