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007 Challenge

1 of 2 Pond Life Diary

Garter Snake

In this summer heat
even snakes get a thirst on
and this one seems parched.
I spied him weaving through the
mossy rocks and yellow celandine
on an urgent mission to drink.
Tongue-testing. For what?
Potability? Temperature?
Whatever it is he dips his head
and slakes his thirst silently then,
to my surprise, he glides deeper
into the pond and S-swims to the
far side where he finds a crevice​
and is gone.
 
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3 - Pond Life Diary

Haiku for Tomorrow’s Mink

Sinuous black flash,
Shaking silver from his coat,
No doubt he’ll be back.​
 
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Congrats on meeting the challenge ms Annie. I enjoyed writing with you.

GP - I am enjoying your dailies. Thank you for your poemie gifts.
 
champagne1982 said:
Congrats on meeting the challenge ms Annie. I enjoyed writing with you.

GP - I am enjoying your dailies. Thank you for your poemie gifts.
Click to expand...

Good gracious! I've been so tied up I hadn't realised the place is suddenly empty.

Congratulations to you, Carrie, and to Annie for your individual week-long efforts. I love your Grimoire theme, C - and A, was that last one supposed to shock? I have a true story about that. :D
 
4 - Pond Life Diary

Kingfisher Chameleon

A loudly announced presence, now he comes
boldly coloured, flashing his iridescence.
Eyeing the water, hovering opportunist
but the mat of lily pads are sanctuary
for today’s specials. No fast food
for any hungry kingfishers today,
there will always be tomorrow.​
 
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5 - Pond Life Diary

Heron with Crows

Study in stillness,
one legged sentinel,
solo spear fisher in grey gear.
Only the wind ruffles your feathers.
As a murder of rowdy crows come to bathe
almost casually you spread wide pewter wings
raising a crest to show you mean business,
this is your pond, these are your fish
and no one else's. The roof is your
next perch, away from riff-raff
and loud, squabbling gossip
but where you can watch
for the next
opportunity.
​
 
GuiltyPleasure said:
Heron with Crows

Study in stillness,
one legged sentinel,
solo spear fisher in grey gear.
Only the wind ruffles your feathers.
As a murder of rowdy crows come to bathe
almost casually you spread wide pewter wings
raising a crest to show you mean business,
this is your pond, these are your fish
and no one else's. The roof is your
next perch, away from riff-raff
and loud, squabbling gossip
but where you can watch
for the next
opportunity.
​
Click to expand...

I really liked this, GP. I'm not sure if L5 was intended word play for "murderer's row," but in any event it tied the poem nicely together for me, suggesting entitlement and arrogance.
 
GuiltyPleasure said:
Garter Snake

In this summer heat
even snakes get a thirst on
and this one seems parched.
I spied him weaving through the
mossy rocks and yellow celandine
on an urgent mission to drink.
Tongue-testing. For what?
Potability? Temperature?
Whatever it is he dips his head
and slakes his thirst silently then,
to my surprise, he glides deeper
into the pond and S-swims to the
far side where he finds a crevice
and is gone.
Click to expand...

I really enjoyed this one - full of "sss" sounds that accompany the subject. I had to look up what celandine is - beautiful word. The edge of the poem even serpentines like a snake.
 
Thank you both, it's been fun writing this series. It helps me to have a theme for the 007 challenge.

greenmountaineer said:
I really liked this, GP. I'm not sure if L5 was intended word play for "murderer's row," but in any event it tied the poem nicely together for me, suggesting entitlement and arrogance.
Click to expand...

tbh it hadn't occurred to me but now I see what you mean. :)

legerdemer said:
I really enjoyed this one - full of "sss" sounds that accompany the subject. I had to look up what celandine is - beautiful word. The edge of the poem even serpentines like a snake.
Click to expand...

Some of the visitors to "the pond" are wishful thinking, like this snake, but the celandine is real. it's finished flowering now
 
6 - Pond Life Diary

Water Lilies

This year’s crop is a Monet
in miniature. Pink tinged
and smiling at the sun, cloaked
by broad green plates that host
froglets trying out their unfamiliar
legs. Bumbling bees and fierce
dragonflies vie for glory in the gold
that crowns the center of each pearly bowl.
Below the surface lurk embryo lilies
waiting for their turn in the light
each one as splendid as its sister.​
 
7 - Pond Life Diary

Deer

Attracted to the sound,
falling water, they come
morning-wary, knowing
that this is a people place.

A young buck with velvet antlers
barely branching over head and
two doe-eyed ladies tip-toeing
daintily over the gravel.

The have already nibbled my roses
and taste-tested other, less desirable
fare and now they drink and watch and drink,
alert yet peaceful as only deer can be.
​
 
1- notheme

Lake like glass

Lake like glass,
no wind for once
which makes
blackflies hell
but the canoe glides
across the water
like the trout
I pursue
but seldom
catch.

Up two islands
turning back at
the abandoned
trappers cabin
returning fishless
to my humble tent
and a solitary scotch
as the sun sets
and mosquitoes
replace blackflies.
 
2-stillnotheme

New Permutations

These paths are not new
we are too old for that as
I tentatively venture to
kiss the mole at the
back of your neck and
my fingers fumble with
the clasp at the front of
your brassiere afore my
hands cup your full
breasts. As my fingers
lightly tweak your nipples,
you whisper harder, then
moan as I comply and
a once familiar course
shimmers in the light
of new permutations.
 
3 - athemeperhaps

On this sultry afternoon

On this sultry
afternoon, I want
to lick you like a dog.
None of those delicate
feline rasps but the
sloppy, full tongue,
nose thrusting laps
of a devoted hound.

First the calluses
on your soles before
exploring the spaces
between your toes
then tracking higher,
leaving a damp
trail round your
ankles and rubbing
my chin over the
stubble returning
to your calves.
The inside of your
knee is next followed
by a light nibbling
ascent of your
soft inner thighs.

A pause to inhale
the fecund scent of
your rising arousal
before darting upwards to
slowly excavate your navel
then tongue tracing
your pudenda and
rubbing my nose in
your dank pubic fur.
My tongue will
descend your perineum
to taste your tang
prior to slowly ascending
to mouth your vulva,
tongue circumnavigating
your swollen labia, clit
then probing deeper
nose pressing your nubbin
until at last you reward
your doggie with
your release.
 
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4 - losttheme

Safe houses

Safe houses exist only
in fairy tales and spy
novels and even there
a wolf was waiting
for Red at Grandma's
house and there are
always double,
sometimes triple
agents waiting
in the wings.

Safe words exist only
in a Kodachome world and
alternative advice columns
Yellow - caution
Red - stop
fade to shades of grey
when your world is
black and white.
 
5 - wanderingtheme

Colorado, long ago
one day three fourteen
thousand foot peaks
ptarmigan on talllus
ice still in a lake
swim anyway
down the valley
a meandering stream
a rainy afternoon
cutthroat trout
from our tent arcs
a double rainbow
but the gold lay
where we were.
 
6 - themeless

Grandparenting can wait

There is a twinge when I see
couples younger than my children
with children of their own.
But then these children misbehave
and I breathe a sigh of relief.
 
7- rememberingtheme

Information theory

I read today that information
may have its own entropy
and that it takes energy
to erase information
so to save energy, I'll
remember you forever.
 
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Disquiet

Some days the words are wrong.
They pour from fingers
like frozen molasses, dropping
down the page in a sloppy, sticky
flow that surpasses the banks
of meaning in a messy flood of letters
and words until it’s all an amber blur.
Bereft without a voice
but unable to escape
the need to be heard.
 
2-001

After-effects

Tonight I deleted the drafts
of messages I haven't sent
my hesitations
and maybe tomorrows
so many things shared easily
before

Now there's only after
where careful has replaced carefree
and the path to you from me
is strewn with all the broken things
perilous to bare feet
that can not get through unscathed
yet remain determined
to slowly trod forward

.
 
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Two Canvasses

It feels like weathered skin.
Stretched cotton attached to a frame.
A wordless page waiting
for the narrative that sits
on the palette in primary pools.

One is primed white and one black.
Instinctively I fear the light
and its lack of places to hide
and quickly move to paint the night.
 
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2-002

Staring at the half-moon
puncture wounds in my palms
such small, tender remnants
of emotion barely contained
when everything under my skin
turned molten and struggled to erupt
from my quietly fracturing facade
held together by force of will
and fiercely clenched fists

I contemplate injuries unseen
contrast the speed of their healing
and understand why
these surface-level distractions
are so compelling
run my finger along the damage
strangely sad that the ache
will quickly fade away

.
 
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As inspired by Lyricalli’s great lines/images of traversing broken glass on bare feet and “contemplating injuries unseen”

Blunt but not Broken

Amongst the opaque rocks and sand
translucence beckons the eye
and hand. One finger tests
its eroded edge before the blue
glass finds my ledge and traces
the fading line across my wrist.
It's soft and cool so the seam holds
all screams inside. Its fractured life
fighting waves keeps it from sawing
into mine and saves me again.

I tuck it all away, a reminder
of how easy it is to sink or smash
and the link of sharpness
which binds our battered past
but mostly to recall the beauty
in being able to escape the ocean
floor and crawl free of greedy tidal fingers
up onto the shore to lie
in the warmth of the sun and live
in a world where only gulls cry.
 
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