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 Apr 2016
Joel M Frye
A phrase or two will kite against the wind,
seek headway in an unseen battle royal.
Exhausted metaphors need shelter, find
their respite in strong meter, rhyme unspoiled.
For those who found no haven, weak of wing,
it mattered not how lovely were the bones
that lay in piles: undone and crumbling,
not fleshed out; picked apart to die alone.

Inspired by unblessed muse, the writing comes
and goes.  Would she take flight, then thermal words
would dip and soar, careen about like some
unfettered raptor, finding smaller birds
to rip from sky with unrelenting aim:
the tiny, straining sentences unheard.
NaPoWriMo day 23 - a sonnet.
The words fight me to the death...only the strong survive.
 Apr 2016
Sam Temple
It's true, I hate them...

Sonnets are like bleak winter,

slow death to the soul.
Poetry month prompt 23


I don't care for the sonnet form and I am an adult......so, here is this

and, to be true to the truth,
I struggle with the confines of iambic pentameter.....
 Apr 2016
betterdays
treeshaper and huggiver
lived a life of comparative luxury
on the sandedge of the whale road

knowledgespinner lived with them
they were three, happy souls

in a comfortbox, with a nannexe
for  lifeknitter as she gathered
her olderyears...

they had two furlings
one tuxedocat, who hunted air
one longdog with boundless energy
and little understanding.

they did daily things,
but were happiest
when daily things,
were done
and the could
be together as one

fambily..
a kenning poem of sorts
 Apr 2016
betterdays
sisephean soldier *****
roll sand into spheres

seagulls sqwauk and swoop
for skerricks of sausage rolls

shaggy dogs bark and snap
at shifting sand and seas

dolphins dive and swing
throgh wave tips in a secret synergy

and out in the depths
whales sound and sing
with solemn  voices
 Apr 2016
Ottar
Ages past I was once a prized rose,
prized by a Beastly prince
prized by a promise since
filled, prized by a Beauty who chose
a simple request to be brought a single rose.

Please let me stop, to catch my breath
look not upon my petals withered
my thorns still own a fine point tapered
the Beast would not forgive the Merchant's transgress -
ion, so I was privy to a ransom demand, He then Beast, obsessed

that Beauty was to come of her own free will
otherwise Beast would the merchant ****,
(and remember I still lay on the ground, stock still
  not wanting to incur the wrath or step of ill will)
either of a Beast, my Master, or the Merchant, and his own disasters

to have arrived a thorn's point, a life and death balance, no act
no wonder once it was all done, I aged slower than the rest
but for Beauty missed her family and the Beast was in fact

Still a beast,

some say I was put under glass, some say under a magical spell
I was possibly picked up by beauty and she was pricked by a wicked thorn under her skin and a tiny drop of that love's blood sustained
me, think what that type of love, could do for the Beastly,

prince,

read the story for yourself, take a dusty book off the shelf
learn and live the lesson for your self and share your love,
like Beauty proclaimed hers,
and the Beast received then became the Prince,
from ugly, and the families all, filled the great hall,
Beauty had a marriage Banquet, the next day
I saw it all from my place, now let me retire, I fade faster
and in the end The Prince, his Beauty lived happily ever after.

Mind the thorns when you lay me to rest.
Beauty and the Beast
Fictional account of the classic in pen
 Apr 2016
Ottar
Is this thing on...?
A blue planet walks up to a
microphone, to tell a joke
or read a spoken word poem.

But no one hears,
for IT is coughing and choking...

i am a steward,
so
stewards are, we all,
every breathing human
has this duty to, the Sphere
with at most, one atmosphere,
no replacement part, no spares
get filled with awe at the beauty
if it is the inspiration to do the duty,
save your woe, save the fear,

use your eyes to share with your soul,
the toll, that bidpedal greed heads have
charged the future wee ones, you tell them "this is
not the planet you are looking for"

but it is the Living, that this Planet is dying for.

This Earth-toned marble and this garbled poetry
is as much responsibility that this Steward can
handle responsibly, alone,

I don't want to be alone in this,
go see the sights, walk in bliss that...
the contract for cleaning the whole
Planet, is up for tender,

and we know, it will go to the lowest bidder,
and not the lowest
common denominator,
in this case one,
we have one Sun, one Moon,
it starts with One,...
my soap box broke
it is recycled stuff,
we have all heard or read this by now,
...sure this is a rant, not magical mystical poetry,
woefully thrown together, like climate change
and weather, and global warming,
what is the harm in
...that, we live in a volatile and dangerous place,
the peace we find,

always has a layer of manufactured dirt,
or made from plastic, and as for air, it needs
a 'do over', where most of you are sitting,
reading this, please care,
I am not able to do much alone.
Earthday Prompt
 Apr 2016
bulletcookie
Winter-

Winds howl outside on this house
a frozen dream's stormy wasteland
Inside, an oven door squeals open
warm bread mouth-hums from taste-hand

Spring-

Melting snow rivulets thaw on roof
echos of wet hollow gutter sounds
unfold branches by way of raveled roots
where sparrows tweet-twitch 'bound

Summer-

Pine cones crackle a buttery sun
spilling seeds for silent ant brigades
while cicadas Doppler-rattle day's spun
bees' low bumble pitch in flower glades

Fall-

Dry flush leaves charging over others blown
crunch brittle ******* under boot foot fall
soon to silent rot in squishy mats prone
alone, beneath a thunderous rain squall

In Between-

In quiet dawn and daunting vesper's gloam
creeks and crows, grunts and moans
city screech far from nature's tones
with ear to ground, and round to home

-cec
 Apr 2016
Sam Temple
que the soft pipe ***** music in the background

dearly beloved
we gather here this day
this day
but 24 short hours
we could go into minutes and seconds
but it trivializes the point
ladies and gentlemen
we give this day
to the earth –
sustainer and bringer forth of all life as we know it
have a day.
every breath
each sip of water
any morsel of nourishment
any of us ever had
throughout all of humankind
have a day
the bacteria in our guts
the viruses in our noses
the plants
the fish and fowl
mammals and reptiles
have a day.
a day…….
tomorrow we **** you again
tomorrow we smash your peaks for metals
tomorrow we gouge into you with spikes
        to draw out your very essence
                 for cars
tomorrow we tear away your covering
      your forests and wet lands
              for materialism
tomorrow we **** on you
tomorrow we fight against you
tomorrow we poison you
but, today, we honor you….
have a day,
earth –
later I will walk through your gift
I will smell spring flowers and think of you
forest paths will come alive with your sounds
and I will smile
I will hold you in my hands
breath you in
and shed a tear
over a day….
earth, we thank you
today
earth, we honor you
today
earth we love you
today
earth
today
a day for you –

someone nudge Martha….she’s got her hearing aid down
shut that **** ***** music off ……


listen people,
gather round close
we are running out of time
and the earth
its gonna need a bit more than a day
like, forever
we are going to have to think a little
about sustainability
our place within the larger ecosystem
we can’t survive without earth
we can’t……
won’t you help me? –
poetry month prompt 22
 Apr 2016
Joel M Frye
The ocean's pulse, the ebb and flow
of constant waves' re-nourishment
bespeaks to me of life, although
an undercurrent message sent
in whispered sighs of Gaia's breath
upon the shoreline where I sit
relates a tale of bounteous wealth;
the wind, the rain - that we exist
at all is purely by the grace
of Nature's cycles. Also heard,
a gentle, soft, disturbing voice
reminding me without a word:
when we have come and we have gone
the ocean's pulse continues on
NaPoWriMo day22 - Earth Day poem.

I don't think I can write another as good as this, so....
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