Thursday, 23 October 2008

Wet Windy Leaves by Chris Crittenden

hunchback imps
slouch over pawls
of tousled grass,

serving as sprockets
in the clockwork
of the lawn,
telling time in fits

moored to quirks
of gusts-
like unhappy turtles,
then mousetraps
on a lark,

in false danger,
nipping each other's shreds,


as if they might be stars
in a swatch,
granting a child's wish
with every stagger,
every galumph.

Chris Crittenden, Maine, USA


Crafty Green Poet said...

Chris Crittenden lives near a lighthouse in a remote coastal area. There are no traffic or street lights nearby. He believes poetry explifies the depth and honesty to which humans can attain. Some recent acceptances are from Poems Niederngasse, Poetic Diversity, DMQ Review and Thick With Conviction. He thanks you for reading his poems!

Gordon Mason said...

I'm sitting here at a window watching the leaves do each of these descriptions! I really like the words 'tousled' 'sprockets' and 'galumph'.

Crafty Green Poet said...

gordon - the poem suits the weather here too, I'm guessing you're in Scotland just now then?

Gordon Mason said...

Aye! You're richt!

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