A snow flake
At the bottom lies,
Be reason I wonder
About the others
Who first arrived,
And now held under
Manage to survive,
While on the surface
Layer upon layer
More materialize,
Thus no surprise
As scale expands
Find to hold hands,
Supporting each other
To bear the strain
They’ve need to shoulder,
When snow turns to rain…
Hence be brothers
Reach for druthers,
To save what’s left
Spared of corrupt,
If not in vain
From mans foul mess,
When snow flakes turn to rain!
In a vicious sky
I persist to fly,
In spite such rain
Has wind feel strain,
And clouds
Hang on a string,
Fixed to a heaven
Of Beelzebub’s reign,
Though but a dream
Of eerie things,
I strain to see
With but one eye,
My impulse
Aim’s to spy,
Or entice
Birds or flies,
Out of the sky…
I effort yet
With a lame eye,
Imposed by mites
On a hellish plight,
That may encroach
On lifeline’s sight
And sure as well
My sense of smell…
Besieged am I
By acute stress,
As I’ve no way
To so express,
Should I go blind
Or loose my scent,
I’ll ne’er again gaze
At a moon that amazed,
Nor sense a morrows’
Night time finds!
ode to Kallista
The silver grey one is the big Kaspar, and the tortoiseshell one is the somewhat smaller female Kallista.
Hard not to love, even when Kaspar deposits his 8.5 kilos on you chest at 5:30 or 6 o’clock in the morning with him snorting in your ear, to tell you it’s time to get up and prove you’re alive .
Poetry on a Canapé 