May 29
angry strawberry's picture

The King of the Garden

The regal tulip with
His swan neck,
His sweeping shoulders,
His crimson mane with fiery yellow tips
Takes attendance in his domain.
Present: the nobles stand rooted to the ground;
Sighing willows watching from under
White flowering bangs.
Bees hum amid their branches
Birds nestle in the crook of noble elbows
Leaves shudder in the wind
Present: lowly pansies squat in the soil
Silly yellow butterflies spread across their faces
Slimy worms writhe between their toes
Scrawny stalks barely cresting the earth.
There. Everyone accounted for.
And the king of them all lifts his face to the sky,
And stands tall in the spring breeze.  

 
Dec 06
angry strawberry's picture

"Marigolds"

Oct 24
angry strawberry's picture

The Old Country and the New

I row to an island, pleading
With wine-dark sea to let me pass;
There, I found myself in Eden,
Eden's bliss amid knee-high grass.
I dance and follow the faeries,
Dancing the cycle of the stars;
My labor and leisure buried
Deep in old country, very far:

Away from warmth, away from light,
Light footfalls muffled by the snow,
Snow reflecting flurries at night
I wandered forests no one knows.
Tens of witches live in this wood
Where light can't reach even at noon;
Faeries would escape if they could,
Covens bade them dance beside the moon.
 
Oct 22
angry strawberry's picture

Three Blind Mice

i’m all alone in this cellar,
and i’m running out of time--
two corpse-pale faces watch me skitter,
six hands counting down my crime.

but another was aroused;
a violet mouse runs across the floor
telling me to leave this house
that soon the guns and sirens will come through the door.

an orange mouse emerges from a hole;
i count the hairs on her nose.
they tell me to leave, but they’re not in control.
after all, i’m the human. they don’t know what i know.

i seize them.
reach for a knife.
Three blind mice, three blind mice,
t
hey’re squirming now, I’m sure they know the tale.
See how they run and run and run,
i can smell the sweat.
they all ran after the farmer’s wife,
they’re telling me to leave them be,
who cut off their tails with a carving knife,
i’m sure they know the tale.