Oddments

In search of story


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March 29.20: Coping

Last night the lightning

tore up the sky;

now remnants gather

and wind sweeps them by,

face-planting the jonquils

into the mud,

ripping the petals

from yesterday’s bud.

No cheer to be had

from this morning’s dawn;

I don’t think I’ll keep calm

but I will carry on.

 

Saluting the British slogan which has served so well —

until we don’t WANT to keep calm.


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March 22.20

The pond mirror

in leaden shinery

tells form

absent finery/

long-leggedy beastie

starkly spindly

twiggy as spring

winter-dwindly.

 

 

With thanks to the Bump-In-The-Night prayer.

Full disclosure, dear reader: I changed this post. A few hours after I posted it, different words started to poke around in my head. I didn’t ask for them. They just started bullying me.

 


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May 4.19

The word of the year is GLUB

the world is a sloshing bathtub

I rant and complain

shake my trowel at the rain

but I can’t stop this merciless drub.

I’m tired of endless grey

I want it to go away

I miss sun and moon

I’m becoming a loon

I want to go out and play.

I’m tired of work half-begun

for want of a sky with a sun

it’s a dastardly plot:

spring comes to naught

and summer attacks like the Hun.

I would find it exceedingly rude

if you told me to adjust attitude

it isn’t my bad

Nature’s the cad

gardeners will grant my bad mood.

 

May the 4th

be with you, dear reader,

soggy though it may be.