Playing with Couplets

If I could write couplets full of wit
I would have a fulsome wordsmith’s kit…

_______________

New Years’s Eve

I sip a cocktail laced with cream
Through time zones celebrations stream

I lift my flute to drink with you
Tiger lilies bloom here anew

For you, a white December night
For me, it’s summer’s pure delight

Yet the moon’s sliver in the sky
Watches each and every sigh

 

For dVerse

FormForAll – Couplets for the New Year

Tail End Days

Down to the bone,
the ham, a mere echo
of diamonds studded
with cloves;
christmas tree shedding
fine needles,
lights askew and bald patches
a marvellous hide
for an ambush,
a cat’s paw betrays
her exuberant presence
stalking her brother…

I am lost in a parallel world
reading in the dark,
a world where
the anointed hear voices
of little people,
I sit on my sofa
bathed in afternoon sun,
somewhere a honeyeater squawks
to sounds of a hose
making sun flowers.

Again anticipation builds
thoughts of a ball
crashing in Times Square,
fireworks lighting up bridges
and towers, chrysanthemum
flowers painting the sky,
a chase of celebrations
as the Earth rotates,
while dogs howl with sore ears
and some lose their way…

I shall be here
with my dog, I am thinking
of getting him ear muffs
for New Year.

This is for DVerse

Open Link Night, Week 24

Dear Leader

Dear Leader
of a people’s democracy,
you are now
on the other side
of the veil.

And you shall be remembered

Yuri Irsenovich Kim,
you sucked the teat
of the Soviet empire
blighting the land
with famine,
following
the steps
of your steel mentor…

You watched
the iron state
crumble,
rust holes
gaping
letting in light
and the freedom
to choose.

Appalled,
you carefully
contained
disagreement
with anti-corrosive
government camps
to block out the light.

No, I shall not forget you,
I pray for the redemption
of broken hearts,
food without fear,
and the right to dissent.

Packages

Footprints in moonlit snow
soft crunching with each step,
she carries packages with stealth
creeping down a side path
making for the kitchen door…

Two small faces peek out
their bedroom window
way past lights out
searching reindeers in the sky
as their father plays online
chatting with faceless friends…

The sound of whispers
rustling paper,
present wrapping mouse’s work,
bows of blue and silver
adorn mysterious shapes…

Poetry Picnic Week 18: Snow, December, Winter Vacations, and Wildness

Dear Reader

Shall I entice you, dear reader
with a careful allegory or should I say
allegoria, a dance of veils where each
reveals a new colour…

Perhaps
a vista of a woman dressed in
a rose silk gown pouring
water into a bubbling stream,
with stars twinkling brightly
in a ring around her head,
her hair streams down her shoulders…

A white maned lion strolls smiling at the moon
and lays down at her feet…

Or shall I show you a motley fool
stepping boldly along a precipice
leading a caravan of squabbling players
wearing dollar bills and Armani suits
carrying guns and calculators
searching for a deux ex machina?