All writing

come on autumn, come on freeze
I'm right here, among the trees,
do your worst, storm,bring your trouble...

I'm a warbler, I don't wobble

Author notes: image from Freepik

Pastoral: a peaceful lake,
undisturbed by wave or wake
Hills surround it, some quite steep.
On their slopes, the gentle sheep
graze along without a care.
Wolf, they think, no longer there

Author notes: Image from Julia Rigby

Is there a windmill I can charge nearby?
Preferably, the old, the wooden kind,
and one whose blades are not set up too high -
I find the new ones that are so designed
as to avoid a knight's most fervent charge,
his lance a useless toothpick in the wind,
too scary, too forbidding, and too large,
and leaving me embarrassed and chagrined
at having failed to even make a dent.
What say you, Sancho, is there such a beast?
A target where our fury's better spent,
or less absurd and futile at the least?
You're silent. Oh, you haven't an idea?
No worries. Let me ask dear Dulcinea.

Author notes: image generated by author prompt to Gemini

Many a traveler
seeks to unravel her
mysteries, secrets, and lore.

Spends pretty pennies on
questioning denizens,
seeking to live evermore,

to find El Dorado.
Would that they rather
found a more fruitful pursuit.

Their queries unbidden,
so it remains hidden,
whether on horseback or foot.

They botch and they bungle,
get lost in the jungle,
all the while thinking they're close,

when by any good measure,
if searching for treasure,
it's right in front of your nose.

Author notes: image generated by author prompt to Gemini

Hey, little princess, you're finally free!
Did you escape from Saint-Exupéry?
Leap from your book to your planet of choice,
where harp-looking trees strum along to your voice?
Still, something tells me you're playing your part,
teaching us all: we must follow our heart.

Author notes: image from Fine Art America

Beyond the borders of forever,
out where not always and in part
join caveats, however clever,
against the fragile human heart,
that one, weak, vulnerable kingdom
which fights its battles, seems to win them,
only to find that all is lost
because it cannot bear the cost
of winning. She attempts to draft her
terms of surrender as a win.
Most unoriginal, her sin.
No, there won't be an ever after,
and no forever. Only now…

Surrendering, she makes a vow.

Author notes: image generated by author prompt to ChatGPT

I start with a To Whom It May Concern
and end it with the requisite Sincerely.
The body - took me long enough to learn -
lays out the subject matter, and as clearly

as possible, still potent, but concise,
with paragraphs that do not tend to linger,
to make it plain what's offered is advice,
not an attempt to blame or point a finger.

So often, though, I find I'm misconstrued,
interpreted in ways I've not intended,
or worse yet, told to screw myself, get sued,
and otherwise drop dead. I'm not offended

because, you see, I've been there. I know better.
And now, pay up: it's a collection letter.

---

Hope this one put a smile on your face today

Author notes: image from Shutterstock

starting with a single flower
waterlilies overpower
and, as it is now well known,
on a timeline of their own,
they will fully fill the pond...

care not whether you respond

Author notes: image from Facebook

It's raining as autumn demands your surrender.
But look! Here's a flower, so precious, so tender!
Its petals: the sun, as a toddler would draw it,
Remember, your child did? You smiled when you saw it...

A yellow pincushion: Oh... aint you a cutie.
The window tears up, overcome by its beauty

Author notes: image from wroc.tv

The vase: a gentle splash of periwinkle
reflecting off the walls -- a lime-washed plaster,
that long ago succumbed to crack and crinkle.

The window sill: no quartz or alebaster,
but just an oaken plank whose paint had peeled...

And yet I feel a truth has been revealed.

Author notes: Image from Storyblocks

The bad, though lesser of two evils,
had never liked to see such sport.

Compared to crises and upheavals,
and always coming up, but short,
disdained, the teammate you get stuck with,
and surely never having luck with…

Its very name - the lesser -  sucks.
Not greater, faster, or deluxe,
but lesser. Ugh. If it could only,
for once, be chosen for itself,
not merely dusted off the shelf
when greater evils, sad and lonely,
are plain too daunting to surmount…

It would be bad enough to count.

Author notes: image generated by author prompt to Gemini

asking for a form
that doesn't serve a function
wound up with a mold