A blog about anything and everything…
Pinch punch me
for the first of the month
– if you must
But with a pinch of salt
then lunch and munch
with me – on me
Never grinch me
but arms round waist
tightly cinch me
Never stint
and always, always
minty clinch me
© Andrew Wilson, 2024
Written for dVerse Poets Pub – Quadrille #193: Poems in a Pinch – whimsygizmo in Quadrille
There was no father gorilla
to take his part
scratch out the gardener’s insides
toss the dairymaid into a tree
wrench off Sir John’s head
crack the keeper’s skull
with his teeth as if a coconut
Tom did not remember ever having a father
He might hide in a bush
swarm up a tree
had he not known it
a very different place
boughs laid hold of his legs
poked his face and stomach
birches birched him soundly
as if a nobleman at Eton
lawyers tripped him up
as if they had shark’s teeth
which lawyers likely have
A cunning little fellow
but ten years old
lived longer than most stags
had more wits to start with
The old grouse came back
to his wife and family
the end of the world is not quite come
it is coming the day after tomorrow
© Andrew Wilson, 2024
This is a found poem with words derived from The Water-Babies by Charles Kingsley. The title – Evolution, is because Kingsley was a naturalist around the exciting time when the work of Wallage and Darwin were revolutionising the worlds of science, geology and biology and there will be found poems that reference this aspect of the tale. But so far, the finding of poems has been more like the method for refining poems since Kingsley writes very lyrical passages anyway…
The image is derived in Midjourney.
This series was inspired by my friend Misky over at It’s Still Life who has been producing a series of Found Poems…
Frequently the wood sare pink
wrote Emily Dickinson, fairly described
as transcendental romantic, I think
was she referencing blossom-time
when gaudy pinks and whites
to win the bees attention fight
that time when we remember
trees are but giant flowering plants
dependent on the tiny pollinator
to close life’s circle with their aerial dance
flowers followed in short order by the clichéd
thousand shades of green
my own favourite time to see
the thin veil delicately drawn
across the Winter-wakened trees
and as the leaves thicken
and take on Summer shades
each tree can be read from a distance
picked out from its companions in the glade
But wait – in Winter too
a palette of subtle colours
also distinguish each species
one from another
colours hard to pin down
from mauves and greys
to blues and nearly brown
and never black except
in solitary silhouette
and frequently the woods are pink
Written for dVerse Poets Pub where the host is Björn Rudberg (brudberg) in Live, OpenLinkNight, Uncategorized