Nikki shoots down the trail intent on the trail of a rabbit. She will never catch it but in her mind the rabbit is invading our territory. When she finally realizes she will not catch it Nikki stops and starts sniffing around. She stops to smell a tree or two then makes her way down the off leash trail hoping to make her way down by the river to some beavers. I hear the slapping of tails against water and call her back ” here Nikki.”
She comes running at me like lightening as I am crouched down and I quickly stand up as she jumps at me in a full-out bound. Her nails scratch she tries to lick me and then she dissolves into thin air. I watch the off leash trail hoping she’ll be there, that she’ll return. It’s a lost hope but I can’t help it. She’s been gone a year almost now and walking by myself just isn’t the same as walking with her.
I was chosen by Ameena KG to write a post on “What is Love in ten sentences”. And the twist- each sentence must be composed of four words. I thought I could do a regular rhyming poem but then I thought I could write a poem that is a little more interesting so I am going to do a 10 sentence 4 words in continuous form poem.
Love is giving you
my most favorite dessert
german chocolate cheese cake
with vanilla ice cream
and letting you have
the very last piece
and not complaining at
all; even though I
adore it more than
anyone but crazy you.
And know I have to share my favorite quote on love:
Oh, Lingerie sitting there in that glorious powder pink drawer
You are my favourite and the best of all the clothing I do adore
I love you see through lacy bra in pale off white
And matching thong, your sure to turn on
Mixed in with bright pink push up bra, the prettiest of them all
You hold, the girls up so they just won’t fall, oh what a job
All you muted black and white, you aren’t my favourite but we do alright
And nude strapless bra, you’ll go with anything at all
I adore you with silky boy shorts that don’t show any lines at all
And delicate fuschia slip, made of the softest cotton, and silk
I love thee best to sleep in on a summers day when the house is much to hot
Beautiful gown of the silkiest seal gray, you make my day with lace up top
With a back that dips, matchings fury clogs, and seal gray robe
How luxurious you all make me feel, pampered if you will
And comfortable like my purple boxer short pants, silky, soft, luscious
And I long to wear you with a flowery tank top, in purple satin, feels divine
Oh, Lingerie we were made to be; I with thee, and thee with I.
Everyone knew about the apartments around the tennis courts. They were old and decrepit and most people didn’t want to live there. But the rent was cheap, really cheap and my friend and I decided that it was the perfect place for two university student’s trying to save money. Plus, there was a liquor store right around the corner and nobodycared if you partied here.
They apartment was clean enough or so I thought, until one day I see this rat scurrying across the muted yellow living room carpet. ” A rat” I screamed, at my roommate Laura, ” a rat.” I hated rats and so did Laura. We chased it and left traps for it with peanut butter.
At night in my room I was so thankful the carpet was right against the crack in the door so no rats could get in and I always left my room door closed. But suddenly something fell onto the bed right on my head. I screeched and turned on the lights. Sure enough a rat had dropped from light fixture in my room and he had three little friends up their with him.
Word Count: 189 ( Sorry I know a little long but I’m working on it!)
These are they that use to have such skill.
That walked the giant type writer keys with a surgeons hand.
That threaded the tiny needle with a sewers touch.
Now they are bent and crippled, stippled with a thousand memories
What shall I say but these hands use to be so strong, thin, and long.
They turned the wheel of a sailing boat, tying off knots and ropes.
They turned the key in the wardrobe door and opened the gate to Narnia, Oz, and Diagon Alley.
With every page the revealed a masterpiece, at least a story to tell, these fingers held glory, and searched for eternity in sand, brought home in flip flops
These fingers lingered on a hand while it crossed the gates of another plane
They followed the life flow from human eyes to a space that no longer held life or light.
These hands reached inside the coffin and held your cold stiff fingers like ice without the give.
These hands faced death and even yet they face a world of catastrophe and hopefulness.
Like books that tell a humble story these hands tell the time and the root of many a tale
My fingers walk right down each page and sacrifice so you should all hear vanities, and vice, calamities and rights.
A story of fingers and hands, no longer young and so tired they ache to the bones marrow
These hands held so many things
Now they wait to be still.