Red and black patterns
Flow in a 70’s style blueprint that
Masks your wax-paper thin flakes,
You call these wings?
Yet you can fly, or rather zip across
The waves of the green metropolis,
Envisioning in your head
What it would be like
To be the red-tailed hawk of your daydreams.
You are just a miniature organism
With a mind for imagination.
Pinpricks of blackness you call your eyes, thread-like appendages
Which you call antennae.
Your black lace legs scurry to and fro
With the coming of the wind,
Which could carry you any way it wants to go.
Beauty and despair are matched with you, my friend
The ladybug.
A contest entry
- Contest # 135 Poet Laureate USA ~ for Allpoetry courtesy of Winklings and for Winklers, too! by Ronald Wiseman.
6090 points, ended November 9, 2008, 7 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
-
Thank you for your entry in this contest. We are sure Lyndon (Ron) would have been pleased with this poem.
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