THE
NIGHT OF THE FULL MOON
 the sun shines             creating
shadows on the ground                      a
new day
another
chance                                                 throw
the dice with fervor
the
owl that knows everything             always
watching
cries      hoot 
hoot                               perhaps
a warning
or
just telling his neighbor                   hello                top
of the morning to you
magpies           the neighborhood rowdies         sit
on the bare branches of the trees
my
neighbor feeds them          meat                 trimmed from their dinner                               
today
is a crossroads                           between
autumn and winter
last
days of indian summer                                          the
sky a clear blue
the
earth golden                               most
of the leaves have fallen from the trees
standing
                   their arms reaching
upward                  for something
perhaps
reaching               for the birds
flying by             to fill    their empty branches
they
are lonely                         without
birds or children to climb to the very top 
the
rose             my daddy’s favorite               is absent from my country garden
this
year                       i gave up                      stopped pretending i am
gardener or farmer
in
the spring the faithful crocus awake                         push
their way out of the ground
look
around                 is it the same                            as last year
the
thread                     remains where i
left it              twisted among the
thorns
when
night comes                    the full
moon shines bright
the
owl on silent wing              brings
death                 to small creatures
who venture out
blinded
by the light of the moon                                  it
could be a form of suicide
                                    there is
much to fear when the sun goes down
November
8, 2014
Note:  I wrote this for the Sunday Whirl, but when I went to Robert's PAD Challenge, he asked us to write a blind poem…it seemed to work for both.
_________________________________________
                        
                        
_________________________________________
STOLEN ANTIQUES FOUND IN CARSON HOME
a visitor to the millicent rogers museum fall antiques show                   
spotted an amerian indian doll and           a pair of moccasins 
authentic kachina dolls                    jewelry
from tiffany & co
recently stolen from her                              home              
yikes               she
yelled                   these are mine          
antiques worth thousands of                                  dollars            
offered by a dealer from                              albuquerque
the perp                                 was
traced by the paper trail
150 items                   booty
of thieves                      taken from
his home
he now resides in                  the
taos county adult dention center
got any info                                        call
taos county crime stoppers
November 9, 2014
 
 
9 comments:
I love this poem full of owls and magpies. Especially the "owl on silent wing". You are surrounded by such beauty, Annell, and you share it with us so we can see it, too. Lovely.
For some reason I found joy in this Annell...that darkness is present and if we try we can understand it and maybe still move on..like the cycles of the moon and the rising of the sun xo
The loneliness of trees is something I never considered before I read your poem. Now I imagine that bereft of leaves and children they could be lonely indeed.
Suicide Note
Loved 'a crossroads between autumn and winter' and trees trying to fill their emptiness ~ nice work with space...and I need to check another challenge...thanks, Annnell
I love the randomness of the layout.
This one was wonderful - I truly enjoyed the scattering of words - it seemed for me to absolutely resonate with random threatening nature of life
Just came back and saw the second poem.......I am so glad the dealer listened and that the thief was caught.
Love the format of this and the message. I tried calling the other day, but were not home. I will try this week.
Love,
Pamela ox
Yes.. i think all art is a journey and never a goal to plan or tell.. without the
gold of heart inspiring.. without a plane or boat...
that never sails... and flies free.. :)
in word or brushed paint
without
oar...and wing....
to simply sing....
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