Tag: poet’s pub

Wonder is Nature’s

On By Susan St.PierreIn Sideshows, Words 'n' such Poetry10 Comments

cropped-101_12521.jpgI’ve always wondered whether frogs felt relief knowing “winter sleep” is near or apprehension of the cold darkness they’ll enter. The relief would be on behalf of a much needed break from constant feeding and the avoiding of predators. Apprehension would be the more anthropomorphized option. Frogs don’t know that many of them will not survive the winter. They also are cold blooded so the winter cold is more unpleasant to human sensibilities than it would be to them.
Still, I’d like to know… but Nature’s Wonder relies heavily on her secrets.

What do frogs ponder?
They know all that they need.
Wonder is Nature’s.

OpenLinkNight #227

Haibun Monday: Morning Remembers

On By Susan St.PierreIn Sideshows, Words 'n' such Poetry26 Comments

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The first light winked through the trees as she settled into her cozy place, no one could see her there … except for the “usuals” … mossy stump, the pebbled path, and mister raven, prompt and steady was the faithful feathered phantom even in his bachelorhood. Solitude’s not unkind, yet , she may feel a loss once he mates, perhaps… he’ll return for want of familiar peace — just as she will come, enchanted by unforgotten glorious mornings.

Treasured place be mine
Moments of new light alive
Morning remembers.

 

Make “A” While The Sun Shines

On By Susan St.PierreIn Words 'n' such Poetry, Writing Prompts18 Comments

Newman was unhappy,
He’d always gotten “A”,
Stomped in every puddle
As he trudged home in dismay.
It started on that morning,
His homework well prepared,
On his way to classes,
He suddenly got scared.
Reaching for his notebook
Is when disaster struck,
He’d left his study binder
Behind in Daddy’s truck.
The woe that overtook him
Was doubled by the rain.
The crack and angry thunder
Mirrored Newman’s pain.
His glasses had been steamy,
The pelting droplets stung,
He’d made it to the building
Just as the bell had rung.
The storm had made him careless,
His pride was ’bout to fell.
Would he ever be the same?
Time may NEVER tell.
He cried ‘like no tomorrow’,
A ‘stitch in time’ and fate.
To err was only Newman,
‘Tis better never late.