as morning light turns
the snow capped gargoyle gold
I choose soft earth tones,
then, at a snail’s pace, begin
to prepare the loom to weave
I don’t have a gargoyle in the garden,
but the rest is true.
I watch with surprise
The determined snail
Through the powdery snow
Weaves a golden trail.
Past the gargoyle water spout
Knowing there’s no way out.
You can tell I am new to writing poetry. Just for grins I want to try.
I think this is lovely, just wonderful! I am so glad you submitted! Please come back again for the next prompts.
indifferent
the gargoyle sits.
long has it been
since the snail
would weave tales of gold.
an empty snow-covered shell
all that remains
in his stony ear.
A grimacing gargoyle glares down upon
a snail laboriously making its way
through the snow.
And the setting sun, low in the sky,
turns to gold the gossamer threads
of a web which a spider does industriously weave.
A beast lived in castle enchanted,
one side filled with gold,
the other side worn from snow.
I watched the snail weave,
a shimmering trail
on the petal of a single rose.
I should not have picked the rose.
It made the gargoyle weep.
Home
A magical web the lone spider does weave
Shining gold in the sun, from wall to eave
Home for a time, lustrous bait for the prey,
Place for repose, laying in wait for a stray.
An abode very fleeting, lost after its use
Work of art indeed, or a diabolical ruse?
Snail in the grass, even a bear in the snow
Home as a haven is all one would know
Grin of a gargoyle to the corner of a gable,
Always on the move, slow but very able
O conning predator, predestined to roam!
What indeed would you call home?!!
Could change spider to “artist”..
Under the snow lived a snail in a house,
with it lived a joyful mouse.
Next to the house was their shop,
all their work was without a stop.
Together they wove clothes of gold,
the colors on it were very bold.
They ironed and fold,
and prepared and sold.
The house had a gargoyle on top,
so the walls never went flop.
They had some strifes,
but led a healthy life.
poem submitted by
Sandy from http://gardenpath.wordpress.com/
as morning light turns
the snow capped gargoyle gold
I choose soft earth tones,
then, at a snail’s pace, begin
to prepare the loom to weave
I don’t have a gargoyle in the garden,
but the rest is true.
I watch with surprise
The determined snail
Through the powdery snow
Weaves a golden trail.
Past the gargoyle water spout
Knowing there’s no way out.
You can tell I am new to writing poetry. Just for grins I want to try.
I think this is lovely, just wonderful! I am so glad you submitted! Please come back again for the next prompts.
indifferent
the gargoyle sits.
long has it been
since the snail
would weave tales of gold.
an empty snow-covered shell
all that remains
in his stony ear.
Fable by Herald Ahrt – http://12bh.wordpress.com
I once knew a boy,
He had all types of dreams.
And when he woke, like a snail,
He snugged back under sheets.
When winter came and snow did fall,
He dreamt of gargoyle, which made him sprawl.
At night no heed,
His mind did weave,
All tales of gold and glee.
Pingback: 8.09.10 – 21.14 « . rhapsody . rerouted .
A grimacing gargoyle glares down upon
a snail laboriously making its way
through the snow.
And the setting sun, low in the sky,
turns to gold the gossamer threads
of a web which a spider does industriously weave.
A beast lived in castle enchanted,
one side filled with gold,
the other side worn from snow.
I watched the snail weave,
a shimmering trail
on the petal of a single rose.
I should not have picked the rose.
It made the gargoyle weep.
Home
A magical web the lone spider does weave
Shining gold in the sun, from wall to eave
Home for a time, lustrous bait for the prey,
Place for repose, laying in wait for a stray.
An abode very fleeting, lost after its use
Work of art indeed, or a diabolical ruse?
Snail in the grass, even a bear in the snow
Home as a haven is all one would know
Grin of a gargoyle to the corner of a gable,
Always on the move, slow but very able
O conning predator, predestined to roam!
What indeed would you call home?!!
Could change spider to “artist”..
Under the snow lived a snail in a house,
with it lived a joyful mouse.
Next to the house was their shop,
all their work was without a stop.
Together they wove clothes of gold,
the colors on it were very bold.
They ironed and fold,
and prepared and sold.
The house had a gargoyle on top,
so the walls never went flop.
They had some strifes,
but led a healthy life.