Lady in a spotted dress

little lady
spotted dress
yawn from slumber
awake to this

dancing atop
cobalt stage
orange and onyx
a winged cape cage

little lady
silver stems
faded azure
papery gems

threshing about
bundled birth
scattered across
freshly turned earth

little lady
large bright eyes
into the spring
away she flies

How the rabbit got his eggs

there was a squirrely rabbit
who stole the robin's eggs
he jumped away like lightning
on his bouncing furry legs

and took the colored eggs
over to some poor lad's front stoop
no sign was left of his theft
'cept for his jellybean poop

hippy hop aaaay
hippy hop ohhhh
bunny did a noooo no

the robin squawked at the
sight of her vacated nest
she signaled for the falcon
to search for the arrest

and bulletins were sounded
out via busy beaver tail
if the robber rabbit hadn't fled
they would've roasted him in jail

hippy hop aaaay
hippy hop yeeee
where's bunny... we'll see

the rabbit sprinted over
to the chocolate factory
and tried to hide inside a
giant vat of sweet honey

but lacking brains he stuck
himself onto the assembly line
after going through the cocoa
flow his flavor was divine

hippy hop aaaay
hippy hop yeeee
no more thieving bunny

hippy hop aaaay
hippy hop yeeee
let's eat a chocolate... bun-ny

Head 'n clouds

foolish fancies rise
in sun baked days
and daze the sphere
above, below, around

fanciful fires that
feed voracious vapor

firing cylinders of
ascending image engines
for flight through
billowing white balloons

cylindrical elevations
swell in an electric field

elevating spark arcs
in whirling steam,
coiling lobes and
drifting cerebral fruits

sparking breaking
stores, birthing downpours

breaking heat of
aging days and ways
to see, to wish and
want, to...

Planting the canvas

clawing away death
of a season best served sold
what had died in faded
gold, insulation from the cold

digging into a blank soiled canvas
where writhes the production
of new buried in layered
pages of bygone life

blades dig deep
as talons scratch surfaces
left bare in between
islands of promise green

and the pages flip
back and forth in the tome
soon a tomb where
the unseen follower revels
in a grassy facade

or perhaps futures have
slowed their pace instead
and rabbit steps bound
in a second layer of a
summer not yet burned

roots coil within
what flowers are and
will slither out into what
leaves and stems have become

soiled canvas lays
stark and still yet stirs under
sepia, taupe, withered gray
shiny white and yellow
drawn to bleed green
and speckled hues

Fair-wooded friends

rivers flowing to the sky
rivers stretch and sigh
when winds pass by

flowing into dome or bowl
pouring out the buried soul

rivers frozen now release
steady paces now increase
bringing still to cease

frozen wintered weathered veins
hailing back the warmer rains

rivers slowly yawn to wake
in the soil their beds to make
and the riches do take

slowly unfurl the green in hand
to cast a shadow across the land

rivers holding nests above
cradling the young thereof
nurtured nature sort of

holding nests, young and eggs
massive arms over buried legs

rivers flowing to the sky
reach the stars so they try
though I wonder why

Resurrection

raising from frozen
stale graves
green hands stretch
to sunlight
to southern breezes
to hungry rodent teeth

resurrected thoughts
in reverse manner
ideas now hover
over buried bulbs
glowing for none
to see
to read by
to turn off

but lights do rise
and colors do shine
when lips
open and speak
to whisper
to greatly shout
to gently kiss

in darkened chill
in growing days
silken dress
bow with airs
to dance
to scatter alms
to acquire one more year

Heaven on a stick

having heaven,
even heaven on a stick,
such a treat but a trick

merely moments,
molten memories melting
in the heated thoughts
of how heaven was found

crafted wings for those
wanting heights wane in
wax and tumble to ground

shells of shattered souls
are peeled by feeble hands,
tossing hues to foreign lands

what is left, all the
theft could or would not
carry and hadn't the time
to terry for an early thaw

thus heights and shaded
shells, which many find at
sales or in abandoned wells,
are closer to granted hells

having heaven,
even heaven on a stick,
what will one someday pick

Jargon jaunting: part moles

wordy whisk, wicked wish
off tongues of troubled souls
impish limps, wimpy scrimps
of lives lived in tunneled holes

the moles...

drolly trolls pulling tolls
of grubby buggy wormy pests
fruiting roots, booty shoots
plate the bait for feasting fests

of moles

sightly light quite a fright
for eyeless pilous scratchers
mounded ground, drown the crown
flooded blood of spud snatches

the moles!

Leafovers

whence solace solar light
lining paths in polar night

withered resurrected leaves
tousled jostled premature fossils
in blades of eager sleep

each rustle, every tussle blown
tears asunder the fragments thrown

frosted lips of an earthen mouth
are showered by those who once towered

clay palette waits, wants early thaw
with ever-present and inescapable draw

sooner than June or even break of May
flow will fall upon limber toiled soil

a dirty grin will claim again its own...
the seeds, the deeds and the fragments thrown

First of fools

the hee hee ha forte
idiots unite for your day
when pete's sake & lordy
lordy lord cannot afford
to pay a pence for
certain recompense of
a jolly folly joke
be it from she or a bloke
they all have their way
a month away from May

for wind has gone
or is going by the side
taking chill of bone
from the entire outside
and pedal here for
a petal there in drops
and hops, a bit after
for wee begs of dyed
and boiled eggs though
not always in April days

thus sit and wait in
nonsensical debate
for tweedles did and
do perhaps persuading...

you or two in the
icy dew of a day owing:

to those of little knowing

to that in rain or snowing

to dead calm or windy blowing

alright alright, I'm going
going to fervent verdant fields
forsaken and forgotten by fools