Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Judy Ponceby Oct 2011
An elderly priest
sits on the dilapidated
stair to his hovel

Contemplating once again
the stinger he delivered
in his Sunday sermon.

An attempt to strike a note
of serious consideration of
the consequences
of sinning to his
congregation.

And yet, as he leans with
his gnarled hands upon his
walking stick,

He can not help but
smile at the wicked joy
he witnesses as a

Drunken Santa Claus and
a skimpily clad *******
weave their way past
him down the
cobbled lane.
Words given: Stinger. Santa Claus. *******. Priest. Gnarled. Delapidated.

Thank you, Sir Frank. :)
Judy Ponceby Oct 2011
Typed words flow
Across the screen.
Cursor blinks
seen, unseen.

Electrons racing
through the wires,
Transporting meaning
as word inspires.

Sensors picking up
the textings.
Users taking in
the sextings.

Social networks
come and go.
Human beings
move so slow.

Time's reduced
to microseconds.
Attention spans
too slow I reckon.
Judy Ponceby Oct 2011
The words

are slow

to come.

One at a time
trembles upon lips
before spilling forth.

Slowly
picking up speed
they
flow
at first
like a lazy undulating
stream through
a crowded wood.

And then
the pressure
builds towards
release
like a
raging rapids
words
leap over
submerged
emotion,
rushing forth
to be expressed,
to share,
to enlighten,
to dance,
to rage,
to comfort,
to share...

Always to
share.

That internal
need
to share
one's self
through the
use of
words
whether
spoken
or written.
Judy Ponceby Sep 2011
A flurry of furry freaks

Rambunctiously ransacked

Garish Gary's garage.

And for the trouble they caused,

Garish Gary garotted

them, one and all.
Judy Ponceby Sep 2011
Misted nightmares seep through crevices of my poorly armored mind.

Seeking entrance to give wretched life to multitudes of hidden fears.

Terror-laden visions gain fodder from life's dark abyss.

Suppressed fear and anguish roiling beneath the surface

Inflict anew the pain and failings of one's existence.

And so, I battle to fend off the failure and loneliness accrued.

Clawing my way to wakefulness in the scream-wracked night.
Judy Ponceby Sep 2011
Creeping in the cracks

Insidious winter chills

My summer-warmed bones.
Haiku. Inspired by the sudden egregious freezing temperatures in Northwest Ohio. Brrrrrrrrrrrrrr
Judy Ponceby Sep 2011
She felt his hands stroke her heaving flanks
Sensitive fingers brushing the dampness.

She leaned into the hands of this man,
Her friend and master for the moment.

Then she whinnied loudly and galloped,
To strut among the jealous herd.
Titled by Frank James Davis, an inspiring sort of fella :)  Despite Frank's opinion, this is becoming a grand collaboration.
Next page