Blue Moon

Blue Moon rising high
View the events of night
Calls of coyotes meet the sky
Fall of prey tonight

Leafs block the light
Believe that love shall prevail
Death hiding in the night
Breath held 'til end of tale

A Lento consists of two quatrains with a fixed rhyme scheme of abcb, defe as the second and fourth lines of each stanza must rhyme. To take it a step further, but not required, try rhyming the first and third lines as well as the second and fourth lines of each stanza in this rhyming pattern: abab, cdcd. The fun part of this poem is that as all the FIRST words of each verse should rhyme. There is no fixed syllable structure to the Lento, but keeping a good, flowing rhythm is recommended.

Written for the prompt at Mindlovemisery's Menagerie-B and P's Shadorma and Beyond

Four Horses

Photo Credit Hindrik S with Photopin

Accepting the challenge

from Imaginary Garden with Real Toads

Sharing with Poets United

FOUR HORSES
Horses prance with grand feathered feet
Meticulously for the show
Owners hold reins and shout commands
In awe the spectators stand

Noses blow breath Dragon's smoke
Horses prance with grand feathered feet
Black coats reflect sheen turn as one
Graceful dance the beauty of the gods

A proud team as one raise hooves high
They circle they leap they woo the crowd
Horses prance with grand feathered feet
The black beauties steal my heart/soul

I float I glide horses my dream
Choreographed art brings tears
Of joy loving beasts forever
Hooves prance with grand feathered feet.

My Death

Join the fun and do something different for dVerse~Poets Pub and Poetry Pantry. Read many talented poets.

MY DEATH

I wanted to be ashes
To fly in the wind
Or flow to the sea

Instead you boxed me
Inviting people to look
That rarely saw me alive

Mouthing empty platitudes
Pretending they cared
In your mourning you believed

"Oh, how natural she looks,"
When I just looked dead
Or like a bad mannequin

That life insurance was
To help you live
Not to paint a public picture of my death

As the possible second wives
Hug you leaving traces of perfume
They do the math of what I may have left

Damn it, if you had listened
Only friends would be here
Saying farewell to my ashes

The Horseshoe...

For Poetry Jam Poets United and Imaginary Garden:  

The Thing About Rust

Things Carried

Empty horseshoe

With rusty nails

Plucked from

The worn trail

Inverted

For good luck

The empty shoe

Stood tucked

Standing in honor

Lying in state

Next to a knife

And a Civil War plate

My horses 

Ran barefoot

The shoe

Remains empty

Empty of luck

Empty of  horse

Just like my heart

Empty of course

The Mag: Hand in Hand

This blog is dedicated to the enjoyment of poets and writers, for the purpose of honing their craft, sharing it with like-minded bloggers, and keeping their muses alive and well. 

Tess Kincaid's words, not mine.  Tess posts challenge us each Sunday to reach through our self-imposed barricades drawing out the hidden words giving them life to share with  others.

So reach deep, keep it nice and create.  For more creations visit The Mag.

Hand in hand

We adventure

Trusting blindly

The safety of two

Hand in hand

Our heart skips

As we do

The safety of two

Hand in hand

There are no limits

Creating within

The safety of two

Hand in hand

Dusk approaches

Returning home

The safety of two.

Hand in hand

Awaiting our return

Back lit silhouettes copy

The safety of two.

The Mag 125

Chilmark Hay, 1951 by Thomas Hart Benton

Once again,

I am stumped

The picture's real

I'm in a slump.

Farmer John has hay

And green grass galore

We have nothing

Just dead grass and spores.

I guess I'm suffering

From hay envy now.

Can't cut, can't rake

Can't even plow.

Cattle auctions are full

Selling into the night

Trailers lined up

Far outta sight.

Trying not to fail

Survival mode in place

This county is going to...well,

Pray for rain and say Grace.

Join the fun at THE MAG.