Odd Creatures
Click on photos to enlarge.
photo with permission from Lachlan Gowen on Unsplash
Night of the Dragon
Behold the dragon, how it flows
from its tail up to its nose.
Thirty feet and thirty arms
move the dragon’s sinuous charms—
its razor teeth, its threatening frown—
through the streets of Chinatown.
On its head, a golden crown.
Its many humps move up and down,
forming valleys, growing hills
while moving over rocks and rills.
Straightening out to cross the bridges
spanning between neighboring ridges.
Never flying through the air,
rising only up the stair.
So many mortals make one beast,
one night a year to roil and feast
on errant spirits wandering out
their vile sentiments to flout,
chancing their ends once more to free
those rotten souls they used to be.
One night of all we form the back
that otherwise the dragons lack.
We form their arms and form their feet,
arousing awe in all we meet.
And thus it happens, once a year,
we become that which most we fear.
Different Strokes
Life’s not always better when lived within a bubble.
Boring regularity might be traded for trouble
by some who find that firewalls just hold in what is boring.
They prefer the heat of flames—the crackling and the roaring.
They do not stress the cognitive. The sensual’s what rules.
They consider rational thinkers as the fools.
They do not heed the laws of men nor mind the dull world’s censure.
They behold the world as one long and wild adventure.
It takes all types to fill the world—some to become the members
who put out all the fires while the others stir the embers.
Prompt words today were firewall, behold, traded for trouble and cognitive.
photo by Andrew Rice used with permission
Advice on the Introduction of a New Species
Lions don’t do well in a setting too bucolic.
Their herding instinct’s lethal and they flunk in ovine frolic.
Lions need to stalk and kill. They need open savannas.
They’d eat all the lambs and for dessert, eat all their nannas!
And if we shut the lions up, they’d go into decline.
Living in small cages simply isn’t leonine.
Lions need to roam the plains lest they become pathetic.
There’s nothing half so sad as a lion that’s apathetic.
Oh no. I somehow erased the pingbacks for the four prompts for this poem! Thanks to okcforgottenman for pointing this out. Well, better late than never. The prompt words were lion, apathetic, shut and bucolic.
I was meeting a friend and Maria Isabela’s near the pier when I sighted this egret and had to get a shot, but very quickly war ensued. These fighting egrets were moving so quickly that it was hard to get an unblurred shot. Here’s the best I could do. Click on the first photo to enlarge and see the captions.
For Granny Shot It’s Bird of the Day
For the month of July, Becky wants square images featuring the color blue, so here are a few of mine. If you’d also like to read a poem I wrote about blue six years ago, go HERE.
As usual, click on any image to increase the size of all of them.