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Water gushing down a stream
Reflecting the sky like a dream
Nurturing the plants around
Making a calming sound
Leafs floating on the surface like a boat
Shivering in the wind as it stays afloat
Minnow darting away in the current
Shiny wet pebbles gleaming in the playful light
The suns ribbons making the sand look bright
Tall trees showing off their height
Squirrels over an acorn, they fight
Birds learning their way to flight
While I look on at natures might
~21/3/21
Happy poetry day! :)
Reagan Lee Feb 12
One day I looked out my window
And saw a squirrel waving at me
My dog goes crazy
As I walk out the door
The squirrel scurries over to me
And I almost faint
Because he starts to talk
" Thanks for having 2 bird feeders
because only one is squirrel proof"
Says the little squirrel
and he runs away.
I made this poem with my friend
Mark Wanless Feb 9
the circle complete
squirrel foot prints in deep snow
blossoms memory
Cicadas gather on the grapevine,
a mass of wings and vibrating abdomens.
Males call out to females
but it is the grey squirrels who answer,
chattering loudly as they feast on insect flesh.

I sip cold wine and tap my fingers
on thin glass, watching and waiting.
My phone buzzes next to me;
you, calling, again.
I ignore it and turn my gaze back to the feast.
Mark Wanless Nov 2020
i am rich now
see dog squirrel and rabbit
huddled together
neth jones Oct 2020
pipe cleaner tree rat
are you prepared for Winter ?
first snow touches ground
Poetic T Jun 2020
The chirps of feathered friends
   serenaded her to sleep.
hues of magical memories that
fluttered upon her every dream.

You see she wasn't like you & me,
more unique than you could think.
She heard voices, but couldn't see
                                 a friend or foe.

You see she was a princess, with a
strict father who forbid  magic of
any kind. She meet a squirrel in the
forest and happened to see him
carrying his horde of nutty delights..
I swear I'm losing my nuts,
  glad you aren't losing yours little one.

"Me no, I know everywhere I've hid mine,
               I hide them so well I cant find
               them later, now that's nuts...

now that's good hiding your majesty.

"Did you just talk?

   Did you just understand my joke?

Nuts, your a whisperer, my lady.

           "I'm a what, what...

Please, whisper, there are ears everywhere.
             We used to have many friends
to talk too. But you are the first in generations.
                                           The others
they became candles that were extinguished.

My Father he doesn't like magic, he forbids its
words, actions. Even if it was to help he would..

         "Never let the snake bite you,

"the Snake,

"Your father is of magic, he absorbs those
he burns. the wood has runes etched into
its bark.. and a silent spell so they cant call
out to the others of there kind..

"Never shoe your value to him, for he will
                  not falter in his quest for dominance
of the elements and others. We tried to stop
him an age ago. But he burnt half the nation
to stop us... he used his whisper to make others
forget that he breath the fire from on high.

He pulled a star from the heavens to scorch us,
        we haven't tried since...
please be aware, be cautious.. learn your gift for
when you are older and learn to use others with
there offering you may fulfil your destiny as the
whisper of the wood..

Long live the queen of whispers...
Paul Horne Apr 2020
No mean to offend,
young laddie,
a point, if I may
It’s ‘Quirrels, not Squirrels

..a difference of ways

Not all big bushy tails
have ‘Quirrels
attached

Maybe pedantic,
this dance with semantics
perhaps, but

more than
a letter amiss
or our ginger tinge
to explain with this,
the Them and Us, they,
while swing from tiny twig,
we’ll seek the tallest tree, fly,
fall, all, as always, without a fuss,
them, no fearsome frights, no sense
fun or adventure, they’ve little rewards
no risks, no treasures

So cute, so cuddly?
so canny, so needy,
with greedy grabby razor Teeth....

Hard lives to fulfil, you’d think!
flitting from bark to branch,
boring and every day,
dressed in grey
while us,
ducks and dodges
tankers and trucks
between the wheels, but

chance is our dash;
life in the moment
or squished in a flash

...That’s how it rolls,
fast and loose, the Lowlands,
life without stale imitations.

Red or dead.

And never enough mush,
only enough for another
furry, fat Squirrel
This poem plays with two truisms; the Scots aren’t overly keen on the English and the Red Squirrel population (the ‘Quirrels in the poem ) has been all but wiped out in England by the grey squirrel. Most of the remaining Reds are now found in Scotland, presumably not there for the weather! The poem is a conversation between a ‘Quirrel and some poor badger he’s cornered, probably in some Glasgow pub towards the end of the night when he’s a bit worse for wear. The idea was to keep the rhythms random mimicking the way a squirrel / ‘quirrel runs, stop, start, quick, slow, but never smooth and never straight.
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