at mangrove’s edge:
a croc, mouth agape.
lazy hunter?
Crocodile Hunter [Senryū]
1
Category Archives: Blogs
DAILY PHOTO: Boat in the Light of the Setting Sun
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PROMPT: Don’t Know
What’s something most people don’t know about you?
Some people who know me (and most people who don’t) might not know that I would never announce something on a public forum that the people who know me don’t already know. I’m strangely private that way.
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Tiger Stripe [Free Verse]
When setting sunlight warms
silvery tree trunks &
mangrove reeds,
and they alternate with
deep shadows,
I finally understand
the tiger’s camouflage.
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DAILY PHOTO: Forum Atmosphere, Kolkata
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Jade Hills [Haiku]
DAILY PHOTO: Shravanbelagola
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O Captain! My Captain by Walt Whitman [w/ Audio]
O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done,
The ship has weather'd every rack, the prize we sought is won,
The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,
While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring;
But O heart! heart! heart!
O the bleeding drops of red!
Where on the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.
O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells;
Rise up -- for you the flag is flung -- for you the bugle trills,
For you bouquets and ribbon'd wreaths -- for you the shores a-crowding,
For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;
Here, Captain! dear father!
This arm beneath your head!
It is some dream that one the deck
You've fallen cold and dead.
My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still,
My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will;
The ship is anchor'd safe and sound, its voyage closed and done,
From fearful trip the victor ship comes in with object won;
Exult, O shores! and sing, O bells!
But I, with mournful tread,
Walk the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.
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PROMPT: Neighbor
Knows when to mind their business and when to call the cops.
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Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening by Robert Frost [w/ Audio]
Whose woods these are I think I know. His house is in the village though; He will not see me stopping here To watch his woods fill up with snow. My little horse must think it queer To stop without a farmhouse near Between the woods and frozen lake The darkest evening of the year. He gives his harness bells a shake To ask if there is some mistake. The only other sound's the sweep Of easy wind and downy flake. The woods are lovely, dark and deep. But I have promises to keep, And miles to go before I sleep, And miles to go before I sleep.
Tiger Riding for Beginners 