Another autumn day afield
with naught to show but memories
for the cold hours still and concealed.
not one deer having been revealed
among the mix of hardwood trees;
at least I need not drag a deer.

Legs are stiff from being still
(not to mention two fake knees
unfit to jump even a small rill)
so I slowly ascend this one last hill
in the evening's slight cold breeze
as stars one by one appear.

Arapaima! A mystery's at hand!
Oh, how did you land on Florida's sand?
Why did you come? Did you say your goodbyes?
Was it for love? Or a change in the tides?

With a tail that's red and head copper-green,
You're the strangest mermaid we've ever seen.
Your swim bladder barely lets you submerge,
Then you come up and eat monkeys and birds?

Come rest by this cheerful creek,
release your worries, let them flow
downstream where the ripples slow,
your suffering and haunting cares relieved,
your meandering, gentle peace reprieved.

Join me here, but do not speak,
still your breathing, close your eyes,
consider the water, zen and wise
while traveling mountaintop to beck,
the endless trail of its ageless trek.

I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud
by William Woodsworth

I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The Licorice Fields at Pontefract by John Betjeman

A few things I have the right to know:
Where do birds sleep at night?
I mean, where in the world do they all go?
I've checked out trees in the daylight -
there aren't enough nests for every bird in sight.

Why didn't the Great Eagles of Middle-Earth
deliver the Ring to the fires of Mount Doom?
Poor Frodo and Sam put aside their own worth
fighting the evil that would nearly consume
the goodness of all, until it was cast to its tomb.

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening (rhyme patterns shop)

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound’s the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

Nine eleven - is our designation
retribution is our aim
through selective regeneration
our collective lays the blame.

Your culture is - inefficient
you must adapt or die
your protests are - irrelevant
in time you will comply.

Our mission is - self-justified
our perfection will persist
we have the force - on our side
it is futile to resist.

Self-defence - is our cause
our best defence - attack
with revenge the only recourse
we will assimilate Iraq.

Received but not compelled,
I presented myself with the others.
No missals tendered, nor withheld
Some riffled through them to incant
into the dark. Coughing, shuffling brothers
sat themselves below. We watched aslant.

From silence, words started - incoherence
In the balcony, we did not chant.
The weighted hymns stayed low and belled.
Obscure arising, slipstreams of spirants

Grey-blue eyes
capture photons
scattered from your form.

Cool skin
senses infra-red
feeling warm.

And tho our atoms
are mostly space

when we embrace
we do not merge
like ghostly wraiths.

Our attraction
may be impulsive

yet our electrons
remain repulsive.