The Bottle Was Po’SHed off.

i have three prompts left for the poetry month scavenger hunt bythat doughnut church lady.  doughnuts as sacriments… it could catch on.  really easily…any old breakfast.  anyways the prompts left are mythic/fairy poem compare/contrast poem and the drop some rain on ye poems.  of course, technically there is 104 feverish or fine hottub temperature opportunities to choose your own poetry month adventures or misadventures and i didn’t list one hundred and four entries so hallelujah, you are spared! but so this paragraph leaves me time to muse how to put a cork in the message of this month bottled.



(puppies) ((puppies)) (((puppies)))

you know it never rains but it pours

it was either lose sleep or lose a little more

puppies coming like rain

a thunder clap of a contraction

and there another droplet is lain

it doesn’t take much towonder the sights

one was heiffer cow spotted some greyed other black to white.

each picture an awwww awaiting such captions

but it never does really rain because it pours

karma has that wolfish smile of satisfaction

11 more and the avalanche of growing roars.

one minute it’s peace

the next the bed torn tween teeth

one moment it’s the sweet sound silence

then the cacaphony soars

one minute it’s one simple life’s new chance

then the tidal wave of circumstance


but even grumpy old me can imagine…

being overrrule as i smile with no less satisfaction

it never rains but it pour


nothing now is 11 more.


myth’s cherishing a lie

aged yet new  all at the same time.

snipe hunting tonight?

it’s interesting that snipes actually exist- i forget when and where i read it but it was probably wikipedia – you know before the hokum of people making a stink about how easy it was to change wikipedia thus how unscholarly???  i mean duh, fifth grade might get away with one straight from the place but college say pay attention to your face… but wikipedia settles all bets.  anyways, a snipe is a fast moving hard to hit bird  rather not metaphorically dissimilar to ‘fish stories” which we all know have some unmentionable odor.  a sportman might simply disbelieve the tall tales of how many snipe snuffed it that day you know under the hot sun? what a surprise, none to show yes NONE.

a wall of the wets

glistens  stilbut soon you’re soaked

a weighted grey wall


the real reality here is i was suddenly sidetracked to obtain a lead on my puppy placements, hear that prince passed away today- there’ll be some youtubing comin’ our house’s daddy dog made it through his nuetring and is sleeping now, yamering with others to or about this, walking to sis’ work to tell her about this and alerting interested party MIL of this…etc or honestly, “losing my train of thought.”… anyways.

purle rain, crying dove

the news floods in of what’s now gone

mem’ries, yesterdays’ love


the color goes steel

as if fluffy whites Weather

word-rain, if you will


heaven is cryin

yes the tears shish on the ground

in country’s rhymin’


the gun metal gloom

unsettling, looming snows

Winter spat at Spring


rainy days and Mondays

drips wet from the clouds, splashing

memories, emotions


heared laughter in the rain?

were you walking wet hand in hand

I’m on that 70’s vein.


rain, rain down….on me.

karma gets up and cloudy!

ever been GUILTY?


ever watch the rain?

drippin in the tv screen

we add the blue stain


I should count puddles

the words dropped as if they’re rain

nah, rather muddle.


what is rain really

spiritually wetted muse?

or, reality?


rain the hiss filling

what was silence now singing

til candy bowl’s filled


god’s lookie Lookie me

lightning flashing through the rain

can you see it dropping?


a chair the a ter

to Nature went IMAX big

as i get rained on.


pen and ink flicker

as rain paints the mood sodden

PBS’ Mys’try


a cotton calming cloud

stills sunshine’s raindrops through the tree

yet you still hear that sound


=I may poet again


=but now, some purple, purple rain.

By Starman Jones

Everything and Nothing interests me. I cook read, write and even have to clean. I SHOULD NOTE: I'm 40 something.

15 replies on “The Bottle Was Po’SHed off.”

lol, no, I’ve never had a thought go out that eek, did I say that out loud? 😀 , oddly enough i rarely think on rain much. to me this was obvious as 15 of the sky would have been easy but raining 16…um, no. next, if one didn’t know the idea or observations … it wouldn’t likely conjur rain yet how many syllables did i have d’oh have to slap in a “rain” or no one will ever ever ever get it. crap crap crap there went the count!

It has definitely been raining puppies where you are! Lucky you! 🙂
Good writes, J-Man! Write on!
Especially love the haikus with the 70’s music and rain influences. 🙂 Some vibrant images there, indeed! I love the rain and reading about how people feel about the rain. To me it’s calming and joyful!
Well, I’m usually out painting the town red, or at least magenta, on Friday nights…but, I’m home with Coop tonight (as he’s recovering from his surgery)…we’ll find a good movie to watch or something.
HUGS!!! YAY, it’s Fry-Day!!! 🙂

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