shit haiku

Inspired by (the title, anyway) of Nick’s shit haiku, and shovelling manure from my neighbour’s paddock:

Fermented grass scent
twines over the paddocks where
horse-apples abound.

Llama-pellet pile
scents the morning air with smell
of smoky-bacon.

Which brought back memories of my childhood:

Another cowpat
flies through the air. Quick, run!
Grandma is coming!

and finally, let me share a family saying passed down through the generations:

Groaning and clenching,
bang on the door. “Shit faster!
The bear is coming!”

April Witch II

In response to Eugi’s weekly prompt, “bewitched” :

Come, walk with me –
slip into my mind like an April witch
and nestle in the space behind my eyes.

turtle season

“to every thing there is a season…”

The spring rains have come,
bringing the turtles out.
And now their shattered shells
lie strewn along the road,
their flesh exposed
to the bloody-beaked crows.

Paterson’s curse

Paterson cursed the paddocks purple,
“how pretty!” the city folk cry.
But farmers weep at fields of flowers
where the horses will sicken and die.

 

 

the ghost kangaroo of Gundaroo

In response to Eugi’s weekly prompt “ghostly“:

Come gather round the campfire mates,
and we’ll share a tale or two.
And I’ll tell you one that’s true and straight,
of the Gundaroo ghost kangaroo.

foresight

In response to Eugi’s weekly prompt “foresight“:

Imagine never being surprised,
never learning anything new –
how terribly…
how unspeakably…
how unbearably…
…boring …

Invoking the priestess…

…or joining the blue-rinse set?

In response to Eugi’s weekly prompt “mystical“:  

Tomorrow
the unwanted,
but unavoidable,
journey must occur.

Forces By Demons (FBDs)

A follow-up to Friction does not oppose motion, for Shruba and the Twisted Mouse:

Forces by demons,
and by engine elves,
and forces of motion
belong on same shelves.

Friction does not oppose motion!

You can’t, of course
walk or drive, with
no friction force.
Please tell your kith
and tell your kin:
You can’t begin
without friction.

fledgling II: kookaburra

For weeks they have circled the clearing,
pausing at each compass point
to claim their territory with a raucous laugh,
defining its borders with their mirth.

Now with a hoarse uncertain chuckle –
soft grace notes dropped into their song –
their duet has become a trio,
and their joyous laughter fills the forest.