A seamless ream of cerulean cloth
A light-blue rock pool unspoiled by sea broth
No clouds allowed to crowd this sky
Just sure azure pureness cast
alluringly on high.
Everything has a point
’round which its being turns –
but our love’s turning point
spun helplessly out of joint
and thus became anointed
our point of no return.
(Inspired by #MadVerse prompt ‘Movement’)
Five lines, I did try
to write, in honour of my
urinary tract –
But then I changed tack, and thought:
That would just tanka the piss.
There’s a twinkle in the sky’s eye,
A sprinkle of sunbeams flying high,
While sparkling gleams of sunset sigh,
And hark the evening’s lullaby.
On a drowsy midweek morning,
Even the cars sound lethargic,
And it seems the streets are still dreaming,
As the birdsong is slurred
So no melody’s heard
Just a low lackadaisical yawning…
You reap what you sow,
So don’t weep, for you know
that this barren field
bears the arrant yield
of the frugal fruits your love grows.