Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Coop Lee Apr 2014
shapeshifter, son drunk
& changing skins.
he digs up skeletons of a spanish battalion
buried
by tigers on the garden key.

suncresent
spray of blood & oranges.
new-fangled sailors once soaked
in madness.
now just starvation.

the viking speaks:
in limericks of new world poise.
his antler woven mask,
set nicely upon the shore.

seod, turtle lord
of space & time, appears only once
every lunar eclipse. bound by treatise
to the jellyfish triumvirate.
his acolyte,
bolivar t. shagnasty,
wanders the mainland in search of water
or meat of trees.

kindness
of men turns to dust & belly worms.
forgotten, the plants mutate
into root-rich empires
of fish & figurine.
million year armistice.

dr. samuel mudd,
shackled years to tide-slab &
fort jefferson. he
purifies the island of its yellow
shivering death.
hospital key.

fastforward hundred plus years
through mudd lifeline:
battle weary sneakers,
spokes sung by strum of card, the bmx
stridden boy & his
teenage mutant ninja turtle mask.
previously published in Whole Beast Rag
http://www.wholebeastrag.org/dry-tortuga-1869/
Cori MacNaughton Jun 2015
I see them in the evening
echolocate after gnats
as they dart and dive for micro-prey
our night sky is alive with bats.

They clear away mosquitoes
never seeming to alight
and make it safer here below
these tireless workers of the night

I am fearful for their future
as we use our toxic sprays
for as we spray mosquitoes
we poison those who call them prey

Still the acrobatics thrill me
in their nightly hunt for gnats
and I hope for many years to come
our nights will be alive with bats

Cori MacNaughton
(July/Aug?) 1999
I wrote this while living in Largo, Florida, where we had a lot more wildlife than is typical in a heavily populated urban setting - including LOTS of bats!  

I have always loved watching them in the evening and early morning hours, so I was pleased when we moved to Tennessee to discover that we have even more bats here.  ;-)

I have read this poem in public on numerous occasions but this is the first time it appears in print.
PrttyBrd Apr 2015
Hues of blue and gray
With a succulent sweetness
That begs to be savored
In the briny waters off the sea
They lead a life unseen
Scavengers in warm water
A lazy afternoon
Wire mesh and day old fish
Chicken necks on a string
Baited traps dropped in left in wait
Edgewater shallows and a lot of time
One by one they come
Chasing that string to the shore
One by one they come
Pull up the trap and catch what you can
Fill the bucket with sweetness
There is nothing quite like
A blue crab Saturday afternoon
42515
kjforce Apr 2015
Sometimes we have a life long dream...
but not sure where to start....
and sometimes we must go to the extreme..
with a thought that's not so smart....
It started with an issue..
she knew she had to resolve..
Unaware of her options, but knew it had to be solved..
He destroyed the girl that she had been...
destroyed the world she had lived in...
She weighed the pro's and the con's..
and concluded it had to do with ponds...
So she set out on a mission..
and decided to save for her own condition.
A well deserved vacation in the " Florida Keys"..
for her and her honey , and with his money....
The months how they passed...
So slowly, then at last...
The day they left was 20 below..Brrr..cold
Soon they were driving down Old Cheney Road..
A backwoods road where the St. Johns' River flowed..
I hear the fishing there is great...
You'll get a bite with very little bait..
They reached the lake in the early morn..
and that is where her plot was born..
She poured the coffee she had made..
and laced it with some " gator aide "....
Here my love she said so sweetly..
I made this special for you my sweetie..
The cast was made, the bait was set..
No reason for her to sweat or fret...
Eyes did close and body went limp..
She started to shake and then thought..
Come on girl be strong don't be a wimp..
No one knows we're here or where we're at..
She rolled the body to the edge of the water...
heard a splash !..it was only an otter...
Within a flash, the body was trash...
there must have been 20 gators below..
ripping and flipping the body about..
She packed up and decided to go back the scenic route....

post note: I've always wanted to be my own boss, and now due to my recent loss..
The Insurance is an assurance and I don't have to wait...
I'll open a store and call it " GATOR BAIT "
We'll " rip 'n' flip" and in a flash... you'll be trash..20 below can be a temp......20 below can also " tempt.
100PaigesShort Apr 2015
I see a netted drape
Over my mouth
And a knotted one
Over my occipital

A breath of fresh air,
Still finds its way south;
To give no relief
As my ***** drawls.

I'm a southern girl,
So south you ain't south anymo',
The same as my health,
Downed like a Merritt Island Iced Tea.

(For those of you unknowing,
MI is were addicts go to retire,
and our teas are more green than the dragon)

For vainglory we go
Buzzed and slow

I did so well,
despite red in the bowl
over and over
I just saw roses

On my long nails,
under my eyelids,
in my nostrils,
Unnoticeably pale.

The pain makes me pass,
outer than cattle
In the Atlantic, you still won't find them.

If I count like a toddler,
why can't he?

He strangles my ears,
Slaps my eyes,
clenches my stomach,
hurts my hands, my arms, my spine, my legs, my face, my jaw,
And still they don't listen.

I can't blame them much.
Though I said many word,
The passion didn't seem right.
Wrong to the right people,
Screamed to the able,
Signed to the deaf.

No one has done anything horrible to me.
Nobody but me.

Sure, I have problems with my mind
Like most of you here
(otherwise we wouldn't be writers,
though I am of a differemt [boring] breed)

But that's not what's killing me.
My body is shutting down,
And I wish that was metaphorical.
Or that it would hurry up and finish.
We Are Stories Apr 2015
-Sunday, the twenty second of February-
I held a sunflower in my cold hands
For the first time in twelve years-
I cautiously stroked the petals
Like a small child holding fragile life in his palms,
Knowing that with one slight pull he could crush
its very existence-
I smiled-
I looked up to the blue sky and thought of you-
The way you hold me in your hands-
I placed my yellow sunshine in my breast pocket,
And I began to think of the way you've carried
me through this Florida weather.
100PaigesShort Apr 2015
Rain soaks the bone
holding the garbage bag,
fuller than a sail.
Plastic wheels click unevenly---
The professionals don't lay even asphalt.

Donning only a mismatched suit
From three stores, on sale
Insisting on exposure
The bones click,
clutching the parachute, already on the ground.

If life were a game,
my skateboard skill would be zero.

Pebbles leave a gray coat,
settling in the puff,
keeping it's hue,
while what was sanguine is diluted,
but taking more space than before.

We came out,
when our valuables were inside.
We were open,
when the metal was bolstered up,
celebrating a natural disaster.

Distant danger brings us closest,
when you are privileged.

Observation made during a storm
is never to be depended upon.

Over many days,
I learned to play in the gray.
kjforce Mar 2015
The wind was blowing when she left the city...
I believe it was twenty below...
Where she was going she already knew...
But... first she had things she had to do...
Get rid of the body that was clear....
There were no options, it had to disappear....
The heater was broken and blowing cold air...
She could feel the ice, building up in her hair..
She had cleaned up the blood as best she could...
As she had hit him hard with that log of wood...
All she had asked him , was to light a fire...
To take off the chill in the house....
Do it yourself if you are cold...he snapped
And while you’re at it get me a cold beer...from the fridge..
It was early morning when she finally arrived at the bridge..
This was his favorite fishing spot...
She pushed his body off the pier...along with his ice cold beer..
And suddenly began to shiver and sneeze.....
Oh well, she said...this too shall pass..
When I get to the Florida Keys..

PS. This is  # 1 of 5 in a series titled “ Gator Bait “.  
Be sure to check them out...
Sometimes we have an issue that is best dealt with " in the mind "
Justin S Wampler Feb 2015
the bay had swooned my comely heart,
as thus I felt it pumping a cacophony
of tangible love, viscous with sea salt.
James Jarrett Feb 2015
It was a **** in the forest green
A two track
Run red with clay
Smelling of grass
And laid down below
The ocean of humid air
And it carried off miles into the swamp
Riding on the back
Of the long, long Island
And my feet followed it
Like a river of earth
'Til its end
At the old Indian mounds
Mountains of men
And the ghosts of long ago
Just sitting there in the lonely forest
Reaching up to the sky
And every time I arrived
I always thought the same
Such a lonely place to die
Next page