Three Animal Poems....
Here are three poems. The first two I wrote a while ago and just revised. The third is recent and I'll probably revise it later. It is easier to revise after time has passed. They are all about animals but they are also all about the night.
Frogs, a Study in Three Parts.
Form:
drops drill through the bellies of clouds
plummet downward
swallowing air molecules and drifting particles of dust,
land and huddle
between rounded edges of leaves
before slithering toward gravity.
A single frog cautiously totters-
(a hop, a twitch of the head, and another hop)
to the cement walkway in front of my house.
I open the door
gleaming buzzing light
tangles with the gray twilight,
exposing the frog.
First- a hunching clump of indistinguishable matter
with more focus- delicate arches of bent legs
covered by leathery skin
grease stained eyes and softly pulsating chest.
Sound:
Restless scurry of Saturday night energy
filling the apartment with a gurgling clamor
drunken chatter erupting into laughter
I sneak from the humid room to the back porch
cold air blows the clinging remains of warmth off my skin.
Already there, two men, smoking and swaying
sputtering a mixture of wobbled laughter and grunts
Underneath their voices a cracked croak dissolves into the night
followed by soft echoes
that transform into raging bursts
until the night is split open
and the only thing that exists
is the orchestra
of a hundred frogs swallowing in the dark
and spitting out
their ancient glow of rattled sound.
Memory:
I Brush through the open aired shadows
a rumbled croak vibrates through the sleep dazed silence
and my eyes find a hunched form on the sidewalk.
a frog!
I lean down
all I see-
a withered winter leaf.
The Cat
My bedroom window is open
cool breeze brushes past curtains
tickling the walls.
The echo of a woman’s voice
travels from across the street
following the wind inside my room.
“I’m not going to chase you inside!
You can stay out all night for all I care.”
The thud of her front door
bounces through the quiet neighborhood.
I stick my head out the window.
A white cat
Illuminated with blue shine
under the eerie glow of the moon.
He flicks his tail against the sidewalk
squeezes eyes into yellow slits
with a sharp toothed yawn
fills his lungs with he last air of winter.
The woman peers out the window,
Glaring at the cats back.
Blinds slide shut
the cats last glance back-
lamp light gleam
shines in long stripes
through gaps in blinds.
I go outside and sit on the porch
watch the cat-
one leg points toward the sky
he lazily lick his belly.
“Kitty Kitty.”
My tongue clicks against the roof of my mouth
the only sound slicing through the quiet night.
He stares at me
twists upward and slinks into the shadows.
Moonlight traces his white fur into the distance
and the light fizzles into darkness.
I watch the clear night
breath billows from my mouth
and disperses into empty space.
The Moth
She was raised in a household
of tromps to church in the snow
and where all earthy excitement
was reached through prayer.
So cigarettes on Sundays
set her into a fit
of rebellious giggles.
“Even better at 3 am in the morning.”
She whispered, the cigarette
wobbling between her lips.
We took walks in the night
to see the town transformed-
The movement and noise
that sunlight exposed
was hushed to the murmur of wind.
The sidewalks were still
and the streets were empty,
except for the occasional car
rumbling past us.
Condensation clinging to the inside of its windows
and low music droning with the engine.
Somewhere past the first row of roofs
we could hear another sign of life.
A clamor of a party.
Teenagers, or twenty-somethings
all scrunched into a house
with their sweat and their laughter,
All the noise they generated
spilling into he streets.
closer, another thud-
A white moth
trapped inside a darkened store
beat its wings against the glass
toward the quivering street lights
We watched the moth
its breath hovering
in its fur covered exoskeleton
wings slap and pound-
erupting with momentum toward the light.
I imagine the window cracking.
crumbling to dust
and the moth dashing toward the light.
If all the electric lights
diminished to darkness,
nothing could stop the moth
from flying to the moon.
Frogs, a Study in Three Parts.
Form:
drops drill through the bellies of clouds
plummet downward
swallowing air molecules and drifting particles of dust,
land and huddle
between rounded edges of leaves
before slithering toward gravity.
A single frog cautiously totters-
(a hop, a twitch of the head, and another hop)
to the cement walkway in front of my house.
I open the door
gleaming buzzing light
tangles with the gray twilight,
exposing the frog.
First- a hunching clump of indistinguishable matter
with more focus- delicate arches of bent legs
covered by leathery skin
grease stained eyes and softly pulsating chest.
Sound:
Restless scurry of Saturday night energy
filling the apartment with a gurgling clamor
drunken chatter erupting into laughter
I sneak from the humid room to the back porch
cold air blows the clinging remains of warmth off my skin.
Already there, two men, smoking and swaying
sputtering a mixture of wobbled laughter and grunts
Underneath their voices a cracked croak dissolves into the night
followed by soft echoes
that transform into raging bursts
until the night is split open
and the only thing that exists
is the orchestra
of a hundred frogs swallowing in the dark
and spitting out
their ancient glow of rattled sound.
Memory:
I Brush through the open aired shadows
a rumbled croak vibrates through the sleep dazed silence
and my eyes find a hunched form on the sidewalk.
a frog!
I lean down
all I see-
a withered winter leaf.
The Cat
My bedroom window is open
cool breeze brushes past curtains
tickling the walls.
The echo of a woman’s voice
travels from across the street
following the wind inside my room.
“I’m not going to chase you inside!
You can stay out all night for all I care.”
The thud of her front door
bounces through the quiet neighborhood.
I stick my head out the window.
A white cat
Illuminated with blue shine
under the eerie glow of the moon.
He flicks his tail against the sidewalk
squeezes eyes into yellow slits
with a sharp toothed yawn
fills his lungs with he last air of winter.
The woman peers out the window,
Glaring at the cats back.
Blinds slide shut
the cats last glance back-
lamp light gleam
shines in long stripes
through gaps in blinds.
I go outside and sit on the porch
watch the cat-
one leg points toward the sky
he lazily lick his belly.
“Kitty Kitty.”
My tongue clicks against the roof of my mouth
the only sound slicing through the quiet night.
He stares at me
twists upward and slinks into the shadows.
Moonlight traces his white fur into the distance
and the light fizzles into darkness.
I watch the clear night
breath billows from my mouth
and disperses into empty space.
The Moth
She was raised in a household
of tromps to church in the snow
and where all earthy excitement
was reached through prayer.
So cigarettes on Sundays
set her into a fit
of rebellious giggles.
“Even better at 3 am in the morning.”
She whispered, the cigarette
wobbling between her lips.
We took walks in the night
to see the town transformed-
The movement and noise
that sunlight exposed
was hushed to the murmur of wind.
The sidewalks were still
and the streets were empty,
except for the occasional car
rumbling past us.
Condensation clinging to the inside of its windows
and low music droning with the engine.
Somewhere past the first row of roofs
we could hear another sign of life.
A clamor of a party.
Teenagers, or twenty-somethings
all scrunched into a house
with their sweat and their laughter,
All the noise they generated
spilling into he streets.
closer, another thud-
A white moth
trapped inside a darkened store
beat its wings against the glass
toward the quivering street lights
We watched the moth
its breath hovering
in its fur covered exoskeleton
wings slap and pound-
erupting with momentum toward the light.
I imagine the window cracking.
crumbling to dust
and the moth dashing toward the light.
If all the electric lights
diminished to darkness,
nothing could stop the moth
from flying to the moon.