Mole Run

Mole Run

Time has made me a mole.

A thrower of dirt, a rebreather

defined by my runs;

blinking in the occasional dazzle 

of that other world

then head back down in the blanketing dark,

swimming through earth with my

double thumbs, sniffing and

pushing with my starburst nose,

living on whatever I find

that thinks itself safe underground.

This poem is a tunnel,

a simple device through which

the wriggling earthworm falls,

 stunned and saved in my black pantry,

where I keep all the juiciest creatures

just for you.

~October 2016

Note: Moles have a special sort of hemoglobin which allows them to absorb more oxygen while above-ground and reuse it later. They have two thumbs per paw, and construct tunnels in order to 'trap,' devour and store wandering earthworms, which they paralyze with a toxin in their saliva. You can find out more about the lifestyle, physique and habits of moles here on wikipedia: 

Images: An Egyptian Poppy with a Water Mole, 1912, by John Crome; Public Domain via wikiart.
Star-nosed Mole (Condylura) by the US National Park Service; Public Domain via wikimedia

A Winter Charm

A Winter Charm

The wind is hoarse

with words of the north.

Mother of columbine,

green twist of turpentine

over the ice,

lace scratch of voles

cabling the snow,

wild-knitted life on needles of bone;

a whole that eats parts,

a breathing of graves, 

a wide-open door

and under the hellebore,

your gold heart.

~October 2016

(Yes, I'm back, because the words won't go away.)

Image: Lenten Rose Hellebore hybrid (Helleborus orientalis) 'Blue Metallic Lady' 

via Pinterest. Fair use.

Sailing Away

Au revoir, friends and readers. It's time for another voyage away from the shores of blogging. If I come safely to the other side, perhaps we'll all meet again. Till then, best of luck to all, and much gratitude to those who have supported and cheered me through the shoals and reefs of the past.

Image: Guests from Overseas, Nicholas Roerich, public domain

Fatal Charm

Fatal Charm

Untie the leaf and let it drop.

Shrivel each wing of the stuttering moth.

Shrink the sun, let loose the dark

to stripe the sky-beast's paneled heart

heavy with more than it can hold;

let the rain come hard and cold,

each death's-head drop a memoir told

of summer's wasting, long-winded decline.

Freeze the fruit and kill the vine

that can't be mine. 

~September 2016

posted for     real toads

Weekend Challenge

Optional Musical Accompaniment

Image: Untitled, by Zdislav Beksinkski  Fair Use
Fall Fade   ©joyannjones 2014

Left

"Don't you leave me here

don't you leave me here

but if you  must go sweet baby,

leave a dime for beer."

Left

The first time I was left

I was unborn

before I knew to flip myself

and swim upstream

to shadow's
shifting shelter in the reeds.

Leaving after leaving

set the hook,
so many hands to pull

 the finished fish out of the drink.

All that's left:
a  silver glimmer and a stink

among the weeds.

~September 2016

posted for   real toads


Flash 55 Plus 

 Optional Musical Accompaniment

Image: Golden Fishes in a Dark Sea, 2006, © Twins Seven Seven

Fair use.

Mistakes

Mistakes

Dark flutters

words melted like butter

burn the tongue, her hand on your shoulder 

on a night from which every dream has been wrung

I looked for your face but it was wrong,

wrong for me to come here

with my snakes

wrapped around

the sad mistakes truth makes.

posted for   real toads

Challenge: Micropoetry

Note: This is a triquain, (a seven line poem with syllables of 3-6-9-12-9-6-3) to which I have arbitrarily added a final couplet (3-6.)

Optional Musical Accompaniment

Image: author and title unknown, fair use via the internet.
No copyright infringement intended.