National badger day

So what more suitable than three badger’s hexastitch poems. Thank you, Paul Brookes for posting them on his blog.

Three (national) badgers

Badger
passes night time,
the track through sunflowers
ripe enough for pigeons,
badger prefers
corn cobs.

Nothing
in the dusk light
touches our garish world—
grey badger, brown fox slip
through the bars of
our cage.

I see
you, grey shadow,
along the hedge trotting,
your drunken sailor gait,
stub-tail swinging,
night lamb.

Random word generator

Today’s words.

I have been writing Badgers, to get iambic pentameter out of my head. The Oracle gave me some relevant ones with this word selection. Reminder, for those who would like to try some, a Badger’s hexastitch is a six line, syllable-based poem, following a 2/4/6/6/4/2 pattern.

Badgers without badgers

I see
cats stalk the field,
conspicuous, white-furred,
yet their prey see only
a deeper shade,
death-winged.

Outside
supermarket
doors, the homeless with their
dogs sit, the begging cup
obstinately
empty.

They have
so much, the rich,
they walk in glitter-clouds,
not urbane or humane,
the word is crass,
vulgar.

The child
with the snotty
nose and dirt-patined skin
cries, but feet hurry past,
eyes always look
away.

Brothers
watch the field’s edge,
dogs, intrigued but wary,
unsure if a wild pig
is friendly prey
or foe.