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George Krokos Jan 2022
The birds in the backyard often look there for food
and it seems they're doing so lately in a happier mood;
it was just the other day when I mowed the grass
so now they can move easily over it again and pass.
Their activity is done habitually each and every day
and watching them closely seems as if they're at play.

They scrounge on the soil with their beaks and feet
competing at times for some bite and morsel to eat.
When disturbed by a sound they fly up into any tree
away from the threat of danger they scamper and flee.
A human presence would be enough to get them going
particularly when heading in their direction knowing.

It's a bit of a delight to see them at play in their quest
doing what they all have to do to survive hunger's test.
I used to feed them some crumbs on a regular basis
which became a habit for me to them as in an oasis.
Together with water left in a plastic bowl for a drink
they'd a few things going for them one would think.

It was only after the local cats caught onto the idea
with their basic instinct, that food or game, was near.
One of them would come around and hide in the grass
crouching there patiently for the right moment to pass;
if the birds were unaware they would fly down to eat
of the crumbs left for them so their hunger could beat.

The cat seizing on the opportunity then would by surprise
spring up and race after them as food or game in its eyes.
There would be a mad scramble and loud flutter of wings
as the birds, escaping from that danger a predator brings,
would scatter and fly away as fast as they could to where
they'd be relatively safe from the clutches of death there.

Sometimes when looking out the back window I'd see
a cat roaming in the backyard in the shadows of a tree;
this would be enough warning for me to raise the alarm
and get out to try and keep those local birds from harm.
I would do this by chasing the cat away over the fence
so the area would be clear again for the birds I'd sense.
_____
Written in December, 2020
Dave Robertson Jan 2022
Cook for me,
put things in the ***
that make my tongue go
Hello Dolly!

Rock ‘n’ roll flavours
savoury sweet and acid hot
so lips smack and I get lost

It’s not the quantity that counts
just the beguiling intensity
of spice blends, herbs
and the nerve to let the metal smoke
Robert L Sep 2020
Inspection leads some men
to brief resurrection,
But that course can also
lead to a defection.

There’s often some needing,
for a frenzy of feeding,
When we seek to feast,
on an ego that’s bleeding.

Is it real or some mirage,
lost in forest or garage?
So many casualties of truth,
how can we triage?

And this is that place
too well we all know,
that if you disagree
well that’s just your ego.

And right or wrong
you must submit,
Or be tossed from the circle
a dishonorable ****.

How is it we can be so blind,
to not see we are of a kind.
Who run about with desperate shouts,
without a mindful mind.

In the dark I see a wraith
Perhaps a remnant of our faith,
Ephemeral and tinged with rust
Forgotten father of our trust.

I’m not speaking here to thee,
what’s this paradox I see
But you said that, no I did not,
Oh, what a travesty!

Walk a mile in my shoes,
see for yourself what you may lose,
Perhaps you’ll find the fit so right
that it awakes you in the night.

And there you’ll lie and toss and turn,
amidst the loss amidst the burn
Oh, sad child who would not learn
Please say a prayer for me.
Cattatonicat Jun 2020
Kissing ***, left and right
Feeding on the weak, feeding them sweet nothings
Makes you wonder if they can mean anything truly sweet

Kissing ***, up and down
Feeding on the weak, feeding them fake respect
Makes you wonder if they can truly respect anything
victoria Feb 2020
Title; Feeding off their unhappiness

Drop
        drop
               drop
Bring your silver lined buckets
Catch and gather
Tears for collectors

Clink
        Clink
                 Clink
What's your preference
Sadness so valuable
Happiness now obsolete

Joy
    Joy
       Joy
Your contentment rising high
Filling your void
Empty buckets make you cry

Silence
            Silence
                        Silence
Too dry a day today
Happiness a comeback
Fill their buckets
Your tears of hate
Brandon Conway May 2019
Soma that seeps
flowing
like little creeks
sprinkling
off the edge
wetting
a tongue outstretched
watering
wilted flower beds
feeding
that pretty head
cycling
arid to wetlands
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