Tag: poetry

Talking with Muscovies

Muscovies are delightful companions.
When I approach they hum and purr 
And vibrate like little engines 
Cooling, then settling down.

When my muscovies are enthused,
(They're not my muscovies,
But I'm their person,)
They pant aloud as if laughing.

Norm is a conversationalist;
He'll announce himself even when hidden.
George and Percy sneeze their greetings
Softly, while father Franklin snorts hello.

Steve and his girl, Zebra, are quiet,
But he'll nod and puff, she'll sweetly coo.
Brothers Edgar and Loyalty
Hype each other up with chants.

Patch squeaks and Mama gently trills,
As do Millay and nested Helmet;
And when he's surrounded by friends,
Granite erupts in exuberant laughter.

Norm gets me a little wet

Norm gets me a little wet
Leaping up from his swim in the pond.
Huffing and panting, he greets me
On the carpet of grass and clover.

He was born to swim.
Every day I see him out there
Bathing, diving; I watch and wave,
Arrested by his beauty.

His downy, feathery breast and head,
Trickling water as he fluffs his crest,
Gleams; shaking off the excess drops,
He beats his wings so close to me.

His red leather mask rings 
Around his eyes' amber irises;
They catch the sun when he tilts his head,
As do his iridescent wings.

A single thought, bacterium-sized,
But then pride: he's so comfortable
With me; and thankfulness: he rests
In the bush beneath my window.

I’m going to sleep

I'm going to sleep—
Every day takes this slope
While we're here. Look! the poles:
Even the stars list hope.

What does a dream hold?
Often therein dread looms,
And what we feel hard melds
With soft inside lead rooms.

What can a dream give?
A background where dooms verge
Upon something more vague
When thought and void merge.

What it takes to wake 
Up: no more than to walk
One step further, to work
For the space/time we talk.

You

You may not think highly 
Of your lot, but blink away
The tears of now. Look ahead,
Peer into how struggle strays.

Turn forward to a new
Force that can burn through a phase,
Work and time to find you've found
The circle you'd roundly raise.

Open your mind, even 
to slopes and blind, snaking slants.
Emphatic mood resonance:
The attitude makes the man.

There are some, very few,
Who are coming. Share your hand
Fearlessly and even-willed;
They'll appear, you'll build the band.

Someday a collective
Will plumb technics you design.
You shall aid their creation,
Trade views from your mended mind.

So for now, don't dismay;
Don't throw down your efforts through
This blue weave of depression.
I do believe. Yes, that's you.