04-20-2015, 06:04 PM
love your first stanza Mercedes.
skull-cradled
by a timber pillow
I sleep, intent
on dreams
Brilliant.
No time for any edit today - the sun is shining and peopel are drinking cider - how rude when I want to be wring poetry!
Murder on the patio.
Garden parties are messy affairs,
the lawn is left littered
with burgers, peanuts and buns
under the tables and chairs.
We are so well off we do not care;
the cleaning crews work hourly shifts.
It’s the bonus that brings
them in from the fields;
each clan, doing their thing.
The grubbers are prickly fellows,
next the red coats, feather pluckers
by trade; drinking the dregs of pale ale.
Finally the big boys lumber in,
bullies and bruisers each one.
The redcoats retreat from fireside seats,
grubbers assume the foetal position.
The bonus turns into a food feud,
a grubber is un-curled, becomes lunch.
skull-cradled
by a timber pillow
I sleep, intent
on dreams
Brilliant.
No time for any edit today - the sun is shining and peopel are drinking cider - how rude when I want to be wring poetry!
Murder on the patio.
Garden parties are messy affairs,
the lawn is left littered
with burgers, peanuts and buns
under the tables and chairs.
We are so well off we do not care;
the cleaning crews work hourly shifts.
It’s the bonus that brings
them in from the fields;
each clan, doing their thing.
The grubbers are prickly fellows,
next the red coats, feather pluckers
by trade; drinking the dregs of pale ale.
Finally the big boys lumber in,
bullies and bruisers each one.
The redcoats retreat from fireside seats,
grubbers assume the foetal position.
The bonus turns into a food feud,
a grubber is un-curled, becomes lunch.