Latest Micropoetry on Twitter - July 2-24

Junebugs
flutter and buzz
zapping themselves
against
the floodlight

silhouettes
of nearby trees
their branches
an endless
reaching

nature embraces coolness
after a swift rain
wet earth transforms smells
a soiled sensation in my nose
gentle wind tickles my skin

raggy
tall grass
epitomizes
upside down
bird feet

a rainbow left
its full spectrum
comet tail
dashing
between clouds

three quarter moon
is either shaped
from too much food
or is one quarter
pregnant

black sky
flashed
and busted its veins
summer monsoon
is coming

I wink
at the moon
and the moon
winks
at me back

the bullied moon
wears
a
swollen
black
eye

short petalled
yellow mums
jiggle under
the air-conditioner
they need full sunlight

scorching sun
fresh cut grass needs water
yellow mums need planting
I stay inside
it's too hot

newly planted
yellow mums
agree
with its new
planter home

on the side
of my shed
are purple flowers
too bad
they're on tall weeds

the weeds
are having a hey day
in my back yard
the grackles
don't mind

poor yellow mums
planted last week
choking heat
withered
them all

frail baby willow
half bare
the wind
blew away
part of its virtue

chubby sparrow
is playing
jungle bird
through
my tall grass

roasting sun
dries the grass
faster
than I
can water

More New Gogyohka Poems (5 Lines, Micropoetry)

tangerine sun
licks
the lemony haze
harboring
nightfall


eggshell moon
radiates
its aura
between
the leaves


the aged
oval moon
rests its
drowsy head
on a licorice pillow


shameless
street lights
spread their halos
against
the onyx sky


cut back
oleanders
are flourishing
with fresh
new leaves


Mexican
Bird of Paradise
raises its
red and yellow flowers
to the scorching sun


slicky, oily grackle
lands clumsy
on the
rustic red
picket fence


the ashen sky
buttons up
the sleeping moon
and slips it
onto a dark sheet


backyard angel
lifts her head upward
more than before
she is happy
for my return


red-tinged
yellow moon
suffers
from high
blood pressure


a tanned
saxophonist
plays for tips
on the
tiled sidewalk


a stunning white horse
with snow white neck
ice-blue face
wears a
red and black harness


camera lens
on fuchsia flowers
the wind
sways them
out of focus


the wind
delivers
a child's
pencil drawing
of a butterfly


silver dollar
moon
tilts
its head
on periwinkle sky


gnats fly crazy
around my head
along a path
surrounded by
healthy grass


an excited
robin runs
across the black top
with a wiggly worm
in its beak


giant
clay pots
overflow with
red, yellow and purple
flowers


this morning
orange sun
smiles
on the
horizon


Last night
a soft banana
and cantaloupe haze
veiled
a marschino
setting sun


daisy white
Mexican Elder
flower clumps
danced
in the wild wind


an energetic storm
flashed
ivory veins
and arteries
across blackness


at last
a loud crackling boom
raindrops tinkle on my roof
followed by
the great deluge


a margarine
crescent moon
submerges
into its tar black
horizon


cloud's edges
fall
like
threads
in shreds


northern
gray
clouds
are
grumbling


humid staleness
smothers
warmth
against
the wind


it is time
to call
the rain dancers
and New Mexican
Kokopelli flute players


clouds
shaped as
Mozart's profile
floats
by


a thunderous sky
jolts and stabs
the earth
with a big
white dagger  

New Gogyohka Poems

bird
on a
wire
flips
its tail


wind
rushes
and bends my
willow
tree


black grackle
hops
and
rushes
to water


silver
bird
has
black
wing tips


life
is a
test
of
patience


feel the rush
on my bicycle
peddling fast
down a dirt road
turn and crash


a teacher
once said
the answer
is
all around you


I pluck
my
Kalimba
for
rain


Willow
sways
to the tune
of the
wind


role
reversal
Mother
is like
a child


Neighbor
smiles
from his
side of
the fence


end of day
takes
the weight
off
my feet

New Tanka Poems

Siamese cat wanders
Searches for holes through the fence
To make an entrance
Smells the earth, limbs, grass and weeds
Tip of its tail waves and guides


Bold weed grows through rocks
Thick arms tipped with white flowers
Unknown water source
Thrives on sunshine, wind and air
And words of condemnation


Dryness makes static
Comb dry fingers through my hair
Frankenstein frizzies
Branching out, electrified
Shocking personality

More New Haiku Poems

Wild wind whips my hair
Tosses it into tangles
Wearing weird hairdo

Rocks surround plant bed
Sun droops morning glory leaves
Water perks them up

Sensor light turns on
Lift up blind to peek and wink
Hopping frog eats bugs

Hummingbird whizzes
Flies around the Hollyhocks
Suckles pink flowers

Mexican Elder
Long-handled lopper works good
Dead branches clipped off

Butterfly dances
Mexican Elder approves
Breezy air flutters

Nighttime is falling
Trees become dark shape shifters
Time to go in now

Weeping Willow

Dear petite weeping willow --
I have watched your frail, short strands
grow to long reaching branches.

You are more flexible and stronger
than the monstrous mulberry in front
that broke large branches
in the last ferocious storm.
Yet you survived, unbroken.

Your young leaves wave in the wind
long strands delicate and thin
skinny bark, half-wrapped and supported
to keep high winds from snapping you.
I shake my head and wonder
that you did not break and fall.

You are life - a resilient child
who sways with graceful bends
bouncing back, as youthful as
the active sparrow that jumps
around the delicate yellow
and pink petals on the small shrub
by the chain-linked fence.

I look forward to your cool shade
when you are more full-sized
I can see myself on a hot day
hiding inside your breezy house,
in a comfy white chair with a book.

Desert Song

The desert knows no silence;
wind whispers a million legends.
It hears the wails and happiness
of those in the wild, breathing in
the same air, same spaces.
All meet the sky, moon,
rolling hills. Paws leave
impressions in fine soil,
at times scorching from sun,
cooling after rain and cloud cover.

Nature knows no boundaries except
where rain chooses to fall,
forming puddles so plants,
insects, and animals can drink
from the land. So that minerals
sleeping deep in the earth
can grow crystalline structures.
So that cactus leaves can maintain storage
for use during droughts. So life
can see the desert's succulence.
Sand dunes roll into a majestic mountain,
sitting stronger than a fortress,
slowly shifting over hundreds of years.

Every step or crawl on dirt
creates a sound, as wind whips
into a howl, as rain drizzles or pelts,
as a warming touch from the sun's light
kisses shade. Every bark and roar
from friend or foe, every flapping whir
from bee or hummingbird, even
a quiet landing of moth or butterfly –
a desert will never be silent,
though it seems so from a distance.

Neighborhood Walk #3

I walked to the park again
and to a place down the street –
for exercise, photos,
Vitamin D from the sun,
inspiration, nature –
hoping to see something minuscule,
bugs, dandelions, objects windblown.

To capture new images
with my camera –
textures in tree bark and
bus stop grill work,
ruggedness in rocks,
frailness or strength in twigs,
even tire tracks on the dirt made
by two yellow Caterpillar trucks
sitting by a large hole
that workmen have dug there.

Like my hair blown by the wind,
I saw the resiliency of life
in grass, leaves, wildflowers.
I would think the wind
would rip all of it out by the roots.

Ground cover with yellow flowers
the size of a freckle on my arm,
and purple flowers half the size
of my palm, met the roundness
of my camera lens, and eager clicks
of my finger on the shutter.
I wish I knew their names.

For the first time I saw beauty
in weeds, even those dried up,
droopy and wrinkled, stuck
by the ditch on El Paseo and Farney,
a ditch half full of murky water,
stippled by white and yellow streaks
made by the sun, trickling
between large trees
in neighbor's back yards.

The wind forced water ripples
in the same direction as my path.
On that path, supple plants soaking
what's needed from the water,
green in contrast to whitish dry weeds
next to tall, reddish-stemmed
growth that looked like Amaranth.
White flowers - pollinated
by a zipping hummingbird
moving too fast for me to
stare at its colors or take a picture –
its fluttering wings cutting air.

That alone was worth the trip,
realizing that nature takes care of itself
without worrying about life,
death and all stages in between.

Waving Curtains

First time to move away from home.
Not a good living arrangement,
but some place to stay.
A singlewide mobile home.
Wagon Wheel Trailer Park.
Doña Ana road.

Quiet, sitting in a corner chair,
in the living room
by a window,
double pane slid upward.
Pleasant, cool breeze blowing
through the screen,
blowing a thin, lacy white curtain
in front of my face.

In a void, a trance,
allowing the curtains to wave
over my head,
tickle my ears, neck and shoulders.
I think this happened
before -- déjà vu.

The wind, carrying me
through a mysterious dimension.
I waver between
worth and worthlessness.
Curtains stop waving,
snap out of the spell.
Why do these things happen
when I am alone?