Bouncing Pumpkins

Bouncing Pumpkins

Bouncing Pumpkins – digital Art by Wild Thing

No moonlight
October chill
On a dare
Two girls shiver
Just beyond the field

Farmhouse dark
Stealthy crawl
Damn dog barks
They freeze

No lights appear
Big exhale
They continue
On their mission

Hands find
What they seek
Stifled giggles
Each girl grabs two

Duck waddle now
Back to cover
In darker shadows
Of the trees
Breaking into a run

On the road
Finally, deep breaths
Made it!
Down to work

Each takes one
Raises it
Above her head
Smashes it down
It bounces!

Stunned looks
They pick them up
Do it again
They bounce

Clouds break
Moonlight shines down
Damn pumpkins …
Were green

Wild Thing ©June 19, 2017

Finding My Voice

Finding My Voice

Finding My Voice – by Wild Thing

I am proud to share with you, the announcement of my first book: Finding My Voice. It’s a Collection of what I consider to be my best poems, paired with some of my photos that have been digitally altered by me.

It’s printed on white paper and the art is full color that has a slight gloss to it. It was my goal to create something unique that would be at home on your bookshelf or your coffee table.

The poetry is some works that have appeared here as well as some that is new. It is my hope that you enjoy it as much as I did putting it together for you.

Get your copy today: Finding My Voice by Wild Thing

Wild Thing

Promises*

autumn-burdocksm

Autumn Burdock – photo by Wild Thing

A promise given
Received
With joy
Gently placed
In a basket
To be savored
Until its arrival
With expectation
Hopeful days
Pass
It never comes

Another promise
Arrives
In the basket
It goes
Believing again
Only to see
It curls up
Like the other

Soon the basket
Fills with
Withered promises
It’s put away
With the pain
Of being forgotten

More promises
Arrive
Like butterflies
Beautiful
Then flutter away

Leaving behind
Wistful
Knowledge
That it will
Never happen
Which is
Better than
Expectation
Unfulfilled

Wild Thing ©February 18, 2017

*This poem was written for the Prompt 2.17 for the Writing Rebels.
It must suck to have promises made that are never kept. I mean we all know what it’s like, but to be an entire race of people? I think of Standing rock … being Black … Hispanic … all the broken promises made to them & then I am ashamed to bemoan any that have been broken to me. Anyway, I tried to capture that feeling & don’t think I came very close to it … but for what it’s worth. This was my attempt.