You strike that flint
With a mineral ball
You tinder fire
It's not special at all.

I've just seen a pigeon
In the heavy rain
Clinging on to
The surface
Of a sheer brick wall
I didn't know
They could do that
I was waiting for the fall
Was this fellah
The Alex Honnold
Of his feathered breed?
Or do they do it all the time
And I've just never seen?
He flapped his wings
Now and then to adjust his grip
But he hung right in there
With barely a slip
Then I saw it
He motivation anew
The bird feeder was busy
He was stuck in a queue.

(Maddy’s Music challenge:
“Write a poem based on three words from a song.”
Song: 'Words of love' by the Beatles 1964)

I’m the harshest critic,
the truest of nonbelievers,
when words of love are used.
Soapy words will not deliver
so please stop trying to be smooth.

Don’t compare me to a summer’s day!
I know that’s from some Broadway play.

Waste not flattery’s rose
praise not my grace,
at least not to my face,
you’re better off praising my clothes.

Forgo sweetness, promise nothing
then you may be onto something
say it, straight up, I won’t faint
trust me, sir, I am no saint.
.
.
A song for this:
Words of love by the Beatles

is it a daimon is it a bliss, a market sentiment,
this chase: fill your life with incredible experiences
how does it feel an ideology of sensation
when linden trees smell phenomenal,
the birds follow their heart of air
the sensuality of summer light simmers on the skin
I can simply watch the grass exulting, the involuntary smiles,
the pain of love's plight, the serenity of the morning tea
the poliphony of noise in an age of anxiety
the song of my shoulders attuned with sight
incredible when seeing is believing that there is innocence
even in the dark

Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Dispatches for the Colonial Office

                                              What Did He Say?

She sat on the porch with her big orange cat
All cuddled up happily in her lap
When we arrived to drive her to an appointment
In a large building in the center of town


The doctor said something about stage 2


She had little to say as we drove away
And when we left her at her home again
She sat on the porch with her big orange cat
All cuddled up happily in her lap