The Matriach
The Matriarch
Swaying gently in the breeze,
I am one of the tall pine trees.
Needles fall like rain,
upon the forest's counterpane.
Cones like hailstones to the ground.
The forest animals alert to every sound.
Stirrings from the forest floor,
I wait to oversee proceedings,
a performance which I am leading.
You dare to sit on my branches birds.
I shake you off, you ...
Tuesday 8th January 2019 8:51 am
Greed
This weeks rhymers theme..overeating
Greed Haiku
The scales of doom loom
On the floor of my bathroom
Greed you may assume
© 2018 Taylor Crowshaw
Saturday 5th January 2019 6:00 am
Recent Comments
David RL Moore on For ?!*# Sake
14 hours ago
David RL Moore on Baby Milk (flash fact)
14 hours ago
R A Porter on 'What can writers and poets possibly do in the age of Trump, Farage and Starmer?'
14 hours ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on For ?!*# Sake
18 hours ago
Graham Sherwood on Baby Milk (flash fact)
18 hours ago
John Coopey on SONNY
19 hours ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on Baby Milk (flash fact)
19 hours ago
Tom Doolan on Motivation
20 hours ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on Flickering
1 day ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on Motivation
1 day ago