Sunday word hunter: poetry and nonsense
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Undead queen
Home she gets and there,among books she stays.Feet over the couch,Table for tea and on her knees the crumbs.Out she goes and surrounded by tales she works.Describing every fish and stone, the words.A lily or headpiece.A meaningful stream of sorts.She reaches her hand,By size or hue,Flickering they come.Endless, in white.Inky and not finite.Comet like, frail stars.And as she turns back,At infinite dark damned waters she stares large.
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Orange
Je veux de être le renard.Je veux de regarder la mer et pensant que je regard ton yeux.Noirs? La profondeur mere.Bleus? La couleur de la surface.Vertes? Le changeume eau.Le couleur est rien.Je veux de être apprivoiser.Je veux de savoir que tu est ici.Une heure de toujours.Un toujours de les jours.
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Answers
Rain came upon,I was aware cold was to follow.Hence I was waiting blossoms to pop.What I got was rotting, nothing more.Am I strong enough to keep sending seeds to the wind?To patiently seek them sprouts?Shouldn't I just declare defeat and about?
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Heat wave
Listen to the night,Chirping high,Ultrasonic engulfing buzzing b's.Go to sleep to its lullaby,The darkness fresher than the scorching light.Good bye.Dream about me,Feet into the star stream.Mind wandering.
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Botones
De colores únicos,Algunos sin pareja.Otros que danzan en corro.Dulces y apetitosos.Baratijas en el fondo de una caja de galletas.Brillantes tesoros,Cuando uno solo;Lo repara todo.
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Escape
Flop flop flop Up and down.She runs in black pumps.Auch, my toe!Wool unbrushed coat.
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Drizzle
Look around.The gray invades,It blurries the trees.Hides perspectives.The flowerpots flooded,The ground barely sprinkled.Subtle spray to the breeze,Tickling the leaves.Growing the day,The sun beams dissolve its mist.Sparkles of saturated tints,Faded to thirst.And so,It drizzled.
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Lay
Your arms resting flat on ground,Yet your hands give more.Green lace gloves entwined gold and royal blood.Defeated by age or landlords,You lay strong.The rain came and you forgot.Half your root was drinking air.
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Domingo de resurrección
Brillaba el acero en los talones del bronco café.Mientras el hermano Dedos,Fingía pedos de deudas por cobrar.Lidiaba el plumífero,Un hito de barra y le rompía la hostia,Al pobre payo importado del coronel.Y del burdel la vigueta;Crujidos gemía de oropel.En el cuartel sin lavar la loza.Al día siguiente con los soldados tirados.Al primero que despertó,Gárgaras de cerveza lo levantaron en resurrección.
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Antes de la lluvia
Sin adornos,Sobre la espuma del terregal sin hierba.Venus de perla a mediodía.Sonrosada por lo bajo,Nace la primavera.¿Demasiado tarde en mayo dónde no nieva?Los tejocotes tienen su propia agenda. Aquí de confeti blanco, Allá de incógnito entre hojas, La fruta espera.Solo las flores de mayo,Puntuales.Dejan caer semillas negras.
