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Posts Tagged ‘animals’

The thick green grass is bent in places

Footstep bruised/ and flattened

The moist smell of aromatic Earth escapes the ground

And seeps through the high reeds/ perfuming the atmosphere

There is another smell of human desperation redolent in the hushed air

Hunter and prey/ both unhappy and chomping at the bits

A dance as old as time

Man and dog, advance cautiously at first

The dog paws the damp soil

Sniffing the depression left behind by fleeing victim

Up ahead, Johnny knows capture is imminent

He can hear them hot on his heels, like Hell’s hounds

“Over there – in the thicket, quick!”

Old Johnny boy –

On the run since he was born

Freedom short-lived

Johnny says his last goodbye

Because he knows he is done for

Massa won’t give him no more chances, for sure.

 

By: Joszann St. John

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(I saw this documentary some time ago.For some reason,I remembered it today.So I thought, why not write something hilarious? )

Broken bottles and barrels lying empty on the ground.

Chaos and mayhem all around

The monkeys are laughing like donkeys

As they cavort in the jungle

Bumping into each other/all over the place/ bungling

Some are fast asleep and just barely manage to keep themselves from falling/of tree branches

The moonshine wrest on consignment, only the consignees did not sell the product/some end up in trenches.

On the desert floor

Moonshine Bottle

Caveat emptor!

Every monkey for himself

Even the moon is confused/ asking questions/restless

Since when Monkeys began imbibing?

They not climbing?

I tell you its sheer madness.

By Joszann St. John

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Roger Finkelstein has locked out Webster again.

Webster is Mrs. Finkelstein cat you see.

Sometimes, Mrs. Finkelstein goes to bed early

Forgetting about poor Webster

She expects Roger to do right by her darling

Rude Roger is rarely impressed with Webster though.

He jumps at every chance to harass and deny the cat his privileges

From time to time, when ever Webster stays out too long on his jaunts

The cat sleeps in the small garden shed at the back of the yard.

Sometime ago he found a hole large enough to squeeze through.

Now in the predawn he sits lonely/ waiting for daylight

And the dratted Roger/ his stomach just rumbled for the twelfth time already this morning.

 

By Joszann St.John

 

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In a lush meadow a gentle breeze ruffles the leaves of a giant oak

Nestled in its branches is a family of robins

Underneath two lovers recline on its wide girth

Sitting on a cushion of springy green grass

While their horses graze yonder in the thicket

A little ways off

Serene and idyllic this trysting place is

They come here often shutting off the intruding world.

Gazing gently into eyes that mirror his soul

The man reaches out and cups his lovers cheeks

She looks back at him

Captivated by his knowing smile

Her smile open and indulgent

Bestowed trust evident as she lays her soul bare

No pretense or constructions that beguile

But love pure, ardent and transparent like glass

Liquid like quicksilver

As it eddies and cocoons them in a timeless embrace.   

 

  By Joszann St. John

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