sunprincess May 3
My favorite creatures of the night-
Sometimes after midnight
They fly around the neighborhood
and call out loudly "Who"
And then sometimes repeatedly,
they cry,  "Who, who, who"
Why must they always ask this question?
Jim Musics Apr 28
Owned  0.9333...

Standing on a big rock in the middle of Owl Brook
Moss so green, a good green
Last week, last mortgage payment
Mortgage, yeah, what a word
So I own it now?
Not the water that flows, evaporates, rains over the whole Earth, not any of the rest either
Used me up mostly, paying tho'
Pinch pennies now
Was – at least I have a job
Now – at least I'm still alive
Rice rules
Bargain beans, 'good as any
Homemade bread, 'get me a solar oven, sunlight's free.
Make bread while the sun shines
'Will dig me a well
(they wished me well as they thought of themselves)
Go fish
'Just a matter of time
I don't own nothin'
Yet right here, now, it's beautiful
More moss,
Bardo Apr 11
To the soft strains of the sea
The booming of distant hill and mountain
The stars dance about, waltz in the night.

Where atop of a startled canopy of leaves
A moon like a big owl sits, ready to pounce
The sea rising steadily now

Inching its way up onto the shore
Giving added buoyancy to the sailing boats
Nestling in the jaw of the bay.
A nocturne at bedtime for restful sleep.
a lawyer's
batch in
a brief
if hiring
direly break
trepidation that
equality sucks
when a
state of
confusion interrupts
rights to
a genuine
occupy of
love where
intent only
makes mark
in society
a note on hiring in land of oz
SeeTed Mar 31
Content in Solitary,
Loftily in the night sky,
Passing over tranquil hollows,
With peering eyes of deep perception,
Wisely then perched in tall trees of safety,
The owl awaits the nights unfolding,
Inside it knows all of the worlds holdings,
For the owl has learned from this place,
Hearing nature speak it's truths,
It has listened to the brooks babbling,
The soils endless turning turmoil,
All the trees as they speak in their creaks,
Even hear the softly breathing deer,
And the bats as they flutter near,
Hear the field mice speak in squeaks,
The moans in the night wind,
Of the coming of new season,
The splatter of the late night rains,
The rustles of falling leaves,
as life escapes these trees,
The howl of the hungry lone wolf,
All this knowledge being spoken for those who listen,
The owl in it's perch does not let their teachings fall on deaf ears.
BC Jaime Mar 2
He said
          “You’re a bear.”

I said
          “No, I’m a fish.
          Two fish, actually
          Swimming
          in opposite directions
          One tells me: Do it!
          The other says: Oh no
          you betta don’t!”


He said
          “No. You’re a bear.”

I said
          “No. Actually,
          I’m a monkey.
          A crazy, funny monkey
          who can pick up stuff
          with his toes
          then wonder when
          I’ll evolve
          (Even my pops used to call
          me his 'little monkey'.)”


He said
          “Just face it.
          YOU.
          ARE.
          A.
          BEAR.”


I said
          “I beg to differ,
          I am a night owl
          that stares at stars
          or watches Friends
          reruns in the wee hours
          of the morning.
          Ask me a question
          I’ll show you how
          wise I am.”


He said
          “Do you know that
          you are a bear?”


I said
          “Nope. I’m a snake.
          I have tremendous
          sympathy for others,
         great depth of perception
          Am intense, passionate,
          determined,
          at times, headstrong.”


He said
          “But, you are also a bear.
          A hairy bear.”


I said
          “Fine. I’m a bear.
          Are you happy?
          I’m grumpy, lumbering
          & hate bees.
          I’m hairy,
          I hibernate.
          I.
          Am.
          A. Bear.”
  

(after a taste
          of honey)

I said
          “And what are you
          Hmmm…?”


He said
          “I’m an otter.
          hairy & cute
          just like you
          Now, give me your paw
          Let’s go splash
          around in the river.”

© BC Jaime 2014 || IG: @B.C.Jaime

This work is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License. To view a copy of this license, visit http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/4.0/.
BC Jaime Mar 1
howling coyote
great owl's moonlit serenade--
moaning of the train
© BC Jaime 2018 || IG: @B.C.Jaime

This work is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License. To view a copy of this license, visit http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/4.0/.
tye wilt Feb 28
That cold, harsh,
February rain slashes against
the panes of glass in my bedside window.

The sycamore tree in the front yard
with it's thick lashes,
groaning,
rattling,
has chased away the coo of the owl.

I've grown used to it's lullaby
and, as I drift off,
I worry a tired thought:
will he come back?
Chris Neilson Feb 14
"Meeow", said the pussycat
"Twit twoo" said the owl
"woo me you twit", she scowled
"it's St.Valentine's Day
where are the flowers?
chocolates and wine?
and why the pea green boat?"
"I thought we could use them
to dance by the light of the moon", he wooed
"but it's raining and cold and in Manchester we live"
"my darling it's not where you live, it's where you're at"
"oh go on then I'll get me coat
I just wish we'd never won this Bullseye boat"
Bullseye was a low budget gameshow in the UK in the 1980s/90s
I am the night owl
flapping its wings
stealthily through your dreams
with a soft  feathery touch
    you may remember
       you once imagined
like the figure at the end
    of the corridor
    whose face always remains
    in the shadow

I am the sower of images
   growing from the dark
touching your mind gently
tapping at forbidden doors
   closed to the brighter hours

I am the prowler of twilight thoughts
that lend shapes
     to your hopes
     and fears and desires
living their lives
     in between

I am the night owl
that shudders
    and folds its wings quietly
when the sun rises
    always too soon
patiently waiting again
until the day is done

* *
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