Have you ever seen one? A doggy in a coat? Like water in the ocean Like buoys on a boat They wear them in the winter They wear them in the fall They wear them made of denim Those dogs will wear them all! The arms are a bit shorter The tail is different too There isn’t a long zipper They wouldn’t have a clue It isn’t like they want them or bark until its on Its just what owners do to them those coats they’re forced to don. So if you get too see them dogs in jackets out about Tell them that they are special pups and rub them on the snout.
It would be easy enough to come away tough from that encounter we had thinking that it wasn’t that bad but I look in the sky and see the sky leans Genuinely not knowing what it all means The lofty white clouds float like pieces of art I watch and I stare, wait for cold rain to start The lucrative part of my buried past ripple like currents, splash with a blast As pilgrims had one day cooked chicken divine my talents are lucrative, just ’cause their mine Healing will come and the dust will settle For now, I must say my cup-eth is full
Like a fractal deposit along the creek bed an astounding accomplishment poignantly said Sunset in a cup, so light and refreshing Keeping all your close friends silently guessing where have you been and where are you going You’ll slip out the back with nobody knowing The sound of a tin cup rattling with change Time suddenly frozen, no need to arrange A shipment sent back from an unlisted number your hot mind relaxes and then you may slumber.
Twenty hours on the road my destination near I cross the road which changed my life and took my child here I moved on more to the one spot where he and him both lay As tears roll down my withered cheeks for here they both will stay One more drive and then I’ll be where love and warmth exist where happiness and healthy food are part of this long tryst The biggest part is coming soon where my true love awaits For my dear daughter will be here her stress can now abate.
Since our world is so full of words I decided for today I would use the word generator to give me a word to use for my writing.
Todays word: plumigerous – wearing or possessing feathers
The Owl and the Crows
Which of you looks best in black? the Owl asked the Crows I think you’ll find which one you like, Crow’s face began to glow Crow number one was black and blue with a little bit of green Crow number two was also black with a greenish-pinkish sheen Crow number three was darkest black, as black as night is dark Crow number four shown just dark gray, he lived out in the park.
The Owl looked but frowned and drew a deep breath through his beak He didn’t want to hurt the crows but then began to speak “Crow over there, you are so fine, I love the greenish hue Crow number two I like that pinkish tone shading on you Crow up in the trees, as dark as night, could barely be seen Crow number four just laughed at owl, he was feeling mean
I cannot tell whose plumigerous beauty is the best So what I’ll do is take my time, I need a little rest So Owl went and napped a bit, he woke up with a start I know which one, I know it’s true, it comes right from my heart Crow number one and number two are beautiful and dark Crow number three and number four have really made their mark But only one can be the best, the best as all can be And so I tell you, all four crows, the most beautiful is me
I see a place far from me now a place I knew not when but how it was a place I used to go when feelings flared tears would flow Across the sky above the land like little pebbles grains of sand only specks of a bigger life where happy pairs with pain and strife This place I see I want to hide knowing love is still inside.
A twiglet’s aim is to “prompt” a thought. If something comes to mind, write. A polished piece isn’t the goal; creativity is. Leave a link, if you’d like your work read, but comments should not be expected. https://thetwiglets.wordpress.com/2022/03/01/twiglet-268/
Ball of Lint
Once upon a time there was a ball of lint he thought himself complete stuck to an old spearmint he spent his whole long day in a coat pocket make of silk Picking up new fragments like cold cereal soaked in milk. He thought that on day he’d go rolling in the sun But darkness in the pocket Was his only kind of fun.
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