My dog is a cloud that floats calmly in the sky.
But clouds taste like puffy marshmallows changing shape.
You see her come up to you her tail curled
As you finish your cool sweet refreshing drink
For she silently makes no noise for you to pet her
Her fur is silky to touch; her ears feel velvet
With a scent of coconut from recent bath rises up
As you bend down to breath her fur.
Her fur you hear vibrations with each stroke.
Near Handel’s Ice cream is where she is
Meeting a girl named Emily.
Clouds do not taste like marshmallows but they are puffy.
My dog might become a therapy dog some day.
Low key my dog will go to anyone.
Every time she see people she wants attention.
“Your dog is sweet and cute” I hear all time;
“But you don’t know she use to be a puppy mill dog.”
The charming Shiba dog of growth is what she has become
As I am upon the shores with no confidences.
I tried to tell my dog to lay down to wait for ice cream.
Bookworm waits patiently as dog is being petted.
My dog will pass her therapy classes with ease.
My harmonious dog just want to love everyone around her.
She is a social dog who wants be out in the world;
Mohaya ori no nakade wanai.
Wind sing their praises of my dog now free from puppy mill life.
Clouds drift calmly by on warm a summer day.
I gently walked upon the rocks
Lubric they were from rainy days
Where wind howled in night
Clouds emptying their water
With hard rains striking down
I dare tread slowly upon rocks
To cross the other side
So I can sit; stare; write
On what happens after a rain storm
April 4th Prompt: Write a poem using one of these words from poems in last year’s Best American Poetry: ochre, zaffire, rarefaction, refulgence, avows, bijou, loggias, lubric.
Last year daffodils were silently mourning
Mourning a lost of a furry friend
They had drooped their heads
Held themselves a silent prayer
For one furry dog
Who loved to sniff them;
Who loved to sit in them;
Who loved getting photos taken with them
They bowed their heads
When I took a picture last year
Just of them empty of that furry space
This year they will notice
A new dog will come around
Hopefully she will sniff them;
Sit among them;
And get photos taken with them
For they are happy life flowers
She brings the end of change in the air
She has seen her sisters enjoy the warmth
She is the tempest bringing days
Full of wind, cold, rain and snow
You never know what she will throw
Sometimes she will show more fall colors
But on other days muted dark will be her passion
She is the one who brokers with her brother
Whether cold and snow arrives earlier
She is the one at the end of it
Who can’t wait to take a needed vacation
To rest from what her tempest hand brings
Golden wheat stands high
Proudly between the intersection
With its regal bearing shimmering;
As behind raging gray clouds come
A large ominous storm brewing billowing
Forward to what will spell disaster for the wheat?
Dirt intersection lies empty
Except for telephone poles who knows how far back they go
Some may have been swallowed by the storm
Coming ever closer as the wind
Tries to dislodge posters from telephone poles faces.
Is this the coming of a new age?
Ekphrastic poem based on the painting called “Gray and Gold” painted by John Rogers Cox