Haiku Whispers

Words sail on air

landing upon ears shoreline

evil ghost ship.

Organize paper.

Organize words of story.

Reader’s Reward.

Love is a magnet

lodged within another.

Invisible pulling.

A snake is a snake.

Lie of feathers and of feet…

A snake is a snake.

Waterfall of words

splashing loose on the page

upstream masterpiece.

Copyright © 2017 Zachary W. Gilbert

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/organize/

The Spicy Earth

The fire in earths belly is spicy.  Spicy on the soul.

Like breathing, a mouthful of hot sauce,

then gasping, gasping, in a burning panic.

A force swirled around me, like a cloud of ink.

If hatred could take shape, if anger found form,

it would be the black smoke.

I asked the burning fog if it was sorry.  Sorry it was evil.

Black garbage bags, shredded on barbwire, whipping in the wind.

Lava orange eyes, full of rage, with no lungs to yell,

seared its gaze into the theater of my mind.

Like the hum of an electrical transformer, it ‘whoomed’ and ‘werewa, werewa”ed,

its tale of hatred.  It burned my mind, like a spicy nightmare.

A crackling hum, of violent energy.  The forever evil,

was soon spat out of my mind.  Yet, the choking smoke hangs,

over all of the earth, without sorrow, full of hate.

Even now as you read,

Millions of angry fingers of forged in dark smoke,

grab sweet hearts, and turn them black and spicy.

Copyright © 2017 Zachary W. Gilbert

 

 

Midnight Poetry

Midnight is that moonlit moment,

where cool mountain air tickles

the dark and sleepy green of the pines.

Midnight my body feels like lead,

yet my mind flies into silver clouds

floating beneath the stars.

Midnight the next day is born.

It is too small to do anything,

a crying infant, we soon rock ourselves,

a dissolving volume of heavy thoughts.

Midnight drinks my dreams.

Copyright © 2017 Zachary W. Gilbert

 

Polish: Mountain Moment

Like silent empty bones,

concrete drinks heat from the sun.

Within a spring day,

the sound of a gurgling river,

kisses the moment.

The dusty dead giant,

ignores natures flirtations.

A butterfly stretches its wings,

in the thin mountain air.

The moment grabs my heart,

concrete and machinery dissolve

into roots, wet dirt, and fuzzy antennae.

Powdered wings lift my soul,

while the waterfall’s music

polishes submerged boulders.

Copyright © 2017 Zachary W. Gilbert