Seven Haiku days
all in a row – so ‘no’ gaps;
that makes forty-nine.
.
Senryu are fine –
or a mixture of both types
is also okay.
.
Starting with the first,
I shall follow a sequence –
but not a seance.
.
As you can tell here,
my verses are Senryu
which means they’re funny.
.
I do serious
as often as I shower –
that is once a year.
.
Okay, maybe not;
it’s maybe more frequently
twice or thrice even.
.
So, on with the write,
making sure my syllables
add up exactly.
“Leaves! Leaves! Leaves!
No one believes
the amount of leaves
that will fledge from the trees;
and fall upon my garden.”
.
“Pardon?”
.
“Oh, nothing – it’s just work for me to do.”
.
“Would you rather they did levitate?”
.
“No … probably not.”
.
“Good. Now just get on with your task –
it’s all I ask.”
.
“Thanks, G! Perhaps you could lend a hand?”
.
“Okay.”
.
.
And the winds did blow
And the leaves did fall
And so I chased after them –
And G looked down
smiled
and had a ball.
Posted in Poetry
Tagged # God, #Autumn, #Leaves, #LeavesFall, #poetry. #poem, Fall, nature
Autumn is …
awesome,
that’s all I can say,
as I just used the similarities
of the words
to fuel my word play.
In Autumn,
a leaf fell;
in the Fall,
it also fell;
be it one or the other,
the result was the same:
the first to fall,
I have found,
presages a general
leaf fest upon the ground.
Russet
Auburn
Indigo
Neige
Brown
Orange
White
Well, that’s the sort of Rainbow
that I can relate to.
“The Writting is upon the Wall
its Spelt wrungly, but its their!”
Give me a prompt,
or a subject to write to,
and I’ll write you a poem –
or, at least, I will try to;
I might not succeed
in penning a classic;
but, I’ll give it my best
‘Park & Ride’
to the island Jurassic –
whatever that means.
As I ‘am’
slowly
going to St. Ives
the fear and trepidation within me thrives,
for waiting there
for me to come
is a creature fierce
that will strike me dumb.
I cannot name that fearsome beast,
nor describes its features, least-
-ways, I could,
but doing so
would do no good,
for then the fear
would within ‘you’ rise,
and terror seep into your eyes.
Needless to say,
I just might not survive
this terminous day.
As I walked around
with a sprig of Buddleia in my hat
a bee hopped on board,
then a butterfly,
then more
and more
and more,
until I had become a veritable charabanc
for the flying fraternity –
and a sight to see I was at that.
If I haven’t got
a poem
upon the subject in hand,
I hope you’ll understand
if I give you a poem
upon an entirely differing subject altogether.
.
Rather than tails of black cats,
chasing butterflies, bees, and belfry bats,
my poem could be about the presence of ghosts,
the absence of Dodos,
or the burnings of toasts
that I had known.
But, you can be sure,
that the poem’s mine own,
for whom so else
would write such tosh?
It has to be me,
with my pigs will slosh.
 | Words from a Lentil… on Give me a prompt |
 | cagedunn on Give me a prompt |
 | Give me a prompt… on Give me a prompt |
 | Aaysid on Cherish |
| Words from a Lentil… on Cherish |
