For Colleen’s weekly challenge. A butterfly cinquain.
swallows
flock, twittering
companionably in
their fighter plane swoop and roll, fierce
hunters,
gathering their strength. I watch them
dance, enthralled, knowing I
would never dare
follow.
Tag: cinquain
Together
A cinquain for Colleen Chesebro’s weekly challenge.
We walk
together step
by step your hand in mine
hearts winging into all the years
to come.
Litter
A butterfly cinquain for Colleen’s weekly prompt.
Bottle,
stoppered, some would
pounce, hope for a message,
keen to share nefariously
someone’s
romantic story. I pick you
up, put you in the bin,
search for coloured
pebbles.
#Tanka Tuesday: Shooting stars
For Colleen’s weekly challenge, words: Light & Dark.
image ©Matthias Loiseau
Starlight
glitter-streamer
dark fragments of dead rock
transformed into burning torchlight
falling
silent as bats about my head
as the soft wings of owls
bright as cats’ eyes
staring.
Milk of human kindness
For Colleen’s weekly poetry challenge, a butterfly cinquain.
What breed
is ours that stirs
only when our little
cup over-flows though death stalks for
others?
Evil grows banal and we watch
with bored indifference
as the red tide
rises.
Movement
For Colleen’s weekly Tanka Tuesday challenge. A butterfly cinquain.
Graceful
the trees’ wind dance
swallows’ wild dart and swoop
even the lane’s pale sinuous
winding
as it meanders in dappled
shade away from the town’s
unsightly squat
grey sprawl.
Sleep
Into
this night I fall
hoping for a landing
somewhere between Aldebaran
and dawn.
Life leaps
A butterfly cinquain for Colleen Chesebro’s weekly Tanka Tuesday challenge.
Life leaps
with bird warble
full-throated and lusty
from grass root to echoing sky
clouded
and speckled with loud skeins of geese
leaf-burst follows blossom
falling—petals
scattered.
#Tanka Tuesday: Follow & Lead
A cinquain for Colleen Chesebro’s Tanka Tuesday. I’ve taken ‘lead’ to mean the metal, from that the colour it gives its name to, hence grey.
Grey skies
replace the blue,
spring storm brewing, trees creak,
dandelions close golden eyes
and wait.
False spring
A butterfly cinquain for Colleen Chesebro’s weekly challenge.
Wings beat
against the rain;
dim light pours in wet mist.
Even the green is grey on this
morning
of false spring, when grassy ditches
run loud and no birds sing.
Butterfly, where
are you?
Jane Dougherty Writes 
