Rain descends at eighty-three degrees.
Perpendicular in those short breaks,
When the buffeting winds gasp for breath,
To holler new obscenities at,
The despairing summer foliage,
and hunkered-down birds.
I charted the body count today,
Thirty-one, yet the toll is not done,
Washed ashore or slain in love or hate,
And blood-lust. Infants loose with weapons.
News delivered intravenously
Drip-fed with codeine.
The weather is far better abroad,
California drips in golden rays,
Lake Elsinore is thirty degrees.
I watch a sodden bird shudder-off,
The dull drizzle from his wings, take flight,
And ‘LIKE’ another cat post.
Copyright Diny FvK
I love the technical aspect of writing to form, so, here’s the info for this one:
Form: 6 lines per stanza, 9 syllables on the first 5 lines, 5 on the last (except for the last one on the last stanza, which is a terrible, cheating 7)