Interlude

[Maureen K Clifford]

I can see dark storm clouds squalling and in flooded streets cars stalling.
Red reflections on the damp road of each flickering tail light.
All around on footpaths busy of this huge and bustling city
there are folks with their umbrellas overwhelmed by natures plight.

Silver shafts of rain are falling and the noise is quite appalling -
a relentless pounding, sounding like a gone mad metronome.
Everywhere gutters are filling and over footpaths spilling
and the river now resembles cappuccino topped with foam..

The Wivenhoe is fleeing from the grey walls of her prison
'cross the sluice gates that are opened now to help with her escape;
and her waters brown and muddy, turgid – stream along the gully
heading seaward to the ocean – turning lowland into lake.

As the strong winds now are blowing, seems that Mother Nature knowing
of what's yet to come, is pounding all before her till it breaks.
Big branches trees are now throwing - shedding dead wood , and the soughing
of the wind through leaf stripped tree limbs gives us human folks the shakes.

For there's talk of cyclones coming, hear the veritable drumming
of rain beating staccato rhythm 'gainst windows and doors.
Nature’s symphony of wildness – she is hardly at her mildest
when she ushers in the summer storms to thunderous applause.


Maureen Clifford ©

[Neville Briggs]

Had a bit of wet weather Maureen ?

Love it. Good style and rhythm for the theme and mood I reckon.

[Glenny Palmer]

Hey Maureen...this is tops. You've done a great job with meter & with 'word pictures'. If you'll excuse me getting 'picky', just double check the rhyming of singular with plural....'lights & plight'...& 'breaks & quake'. I just think it's a shame to have the otherwise spot on piece with 'blemishes'.

Anyone complaining about having no subject to write from should scan your limitless subject matter....I'll bet you could write on the mating habits of the Argentinian Ant! Bless you girl...I enjoyed this one lots.
xx Glenny

[Bob Pacey]

a flickering tail light


and before till it would break ?


Easy peasey

Cheers Bob

[Glenny Palmer]

Peasey Pacey..?.......

[Bob Pacey]

My family tree states that we were thought to have escaped from France to avoide the chopper and Pacey was thought to have been derived from Peasey.


So Easy Peasey

[Maureen K Clifford]

Thank you Neville

Good oh Glenny, thank you xx I have fixed it and the mating habits of argentine ants would not pose a problem but does anybody really need to know???

And it is still bloody raining (sigh) the grass is so high that little Ellyssa won't now go outside to do her wees and whoopsies as she doesn't like the long wet grass tickling her belly, but the darn grass is to wet for me to mow it.

Maybe tomorrow


ANTSY

The Argentine ant makes of each fertile female a queen
when he mates with her – and then for love he dies.
His life time function now fulfilled, a short life but a good one
with no time for any maudlin goodbyes.

He came, he saw, he conquered and he took her on the nest
the colony will now proliferate.
One likes to think he gave the girl his very sexual best
if he didn’t well it’s too late to debate.

He’s not a picky eater but he likes the sweet things best
preferring sweets and going mad for honey
no doubt he offers sweet things to the sweet heart of his dreams.
No crass ant he. He would not offer money.

But woo her though he will until he finds connubial bliss
the outcome for this poor bloke is the same.
You have your way, you pay the price and ecstasy is sweet
but its women who control the mating game.

[Jasper Brush]

Maureen

You are a poet extraordinaire

You beat them all.

John

[Maureen K Clifford]

Beat them to death I suspect at times John purely by overload, but when the muse strikes the pen writes

Cheers

Maureen

[alongtimegone]

That's really good Maureen. So very descriptive. Absolutely loved this verse.

The Wivenhoe is fleeing from the grey walls of her prison
'cross the sluice gates that are opened now to help with her escape;
and her waters brown and muddy, turgid – stream along the gully
heading seaward to the ocean – turning lowland into lake.

How did you get on in our recent floods? High on a hill I hope.

Cheers ... Wazza