Losing sleeple for the people

Sold too cheap, we’re losing sleep.

Making waves in the caves

A rising heat wave draws us down,

Accepting pathways underground.

The tiller, held by shady soul,

As shadows lengthen, guides to Sheol.

The hidden pilot looks to laugh,

For we have lost the narrow path.

Our leaky craft is sinking slow;

Still, we delight in undertow.

We sit and sigh, enjoy the ride.

Each freely mocks the other side.

We call it “liberty” hard-fought;

Authentic freedom we’ve forgot.

“It’s for the people,” we exclaim,

Although we have ourselves to blame.

Each face is red, betraying heart.

We’ve raised deceit to highest art.

So, chasing thrills, we’ve ceded sight.

The answer lives within the light.

c2016 by Linda Ann Nickerson

This poem was posted in response to these prompts:

Five-Minute Friday: “hidden”
Meme Express: “heat wave”
Shadow Shot Sunday: “lengthening shadows”

Simply Snickers: “for the people”

Six Word Saturday/Show My Face: “Describe your life in six words.”
Stream of Consciousness Saturday: “art”
Theme Thursday: “red”

Image/s:

Thanks for Sepia Saturday for the vintage/public domain image.

Feel free to follow on Google+ and Twitter. You are also invited to join this writer's fan page on Facebook.

Dog days: Hounded by humidity and losing lucidity

Baby, it’s hot outside. My grandmother used to say, “Horses sweat. Men perspire. Women glow.” It’s an old saying. But lately, I beg to differ.

Dog days

(Hounded by humidity and losing lucidity)

My sprint is spent like long-lost lien.

I’ve showered thrice. I’m still not clean.

We wonder why the summer slogs,

But every day will have its dogs.

I puff and pant like mongrel mean.

The temp has dropped a few degrees.

I venture out to catch a breeze.

If just a mile or three I’d try,

My tales would justify some pie.

But after two, I crawl on knees.

God only knows my top complaint.

For He has heard I ain’t no saint.

A trio of excuses grand

I reconstruct to beat the band

And seek a shadow, there to faint.

Get up and move, you soggy slug.

Go grab that water, gulp and chug.

Then stomp those sneakers ‘round the block.

Your alibi’s a crusty crock.

I stand and shrug, and off I plug.

And still I wonder, as I fry,

Will this entitle me to pie?

c2016 by Linda Ann Nickerson

This poem was posted in response to these prompts:

Camera Critters: pictures of creatures

Mad Kane Humor: “lean” or “lien”
Meme Express: “venture”

Simply Snickers: “tales” (or “tails”), “trio,” and “try”

Shadow Shot Sunday: “shadow”

Sunday Smiles: something worth smiling about
Sunday Stealing: “God only knows”

Image/s:

 Vintage/public domain image.

Feel free to follow on Google+ and Twitter. You are also invited to join this writer's fan page on Facebook.

Rose-colored glasses and a white gown

Sometimes a half-dozen words are enough. But maybe not always.

Rose-colored glasses and a white gown

A carefree wonder caught her cloak.

She buttoned up to go for broke

And donned her specs of rosy hue.

Perhaps they had been better blue.

Bedecked in lace, this woman-child

Cast dreams aside to deem them wild.

The woodpecker put spark to bark

To measure how she missed the mark.

She wasn’t worthy of her wings;

Alas, the creed of self-crowned kings.

How colored glasses do deceive

A heart embroidered on a sleeve.

I’d love to help this friend by chance

To give her value second glance.

Dare hope she’ll come to recognize

The view improves in honest eyes.

c2016 by Linda Ann Nickerson

This poem was posted in response to these prompts:

Daily Post: “carefree”

Five-Minute Friday: “help”

One Minute Writer: Six Word Saturday

Show My Face: Six Word Saturday

Simply Snickers: “woodpecker,” “wonder,” “wild,” “worthy,” and “wings”

Stream of Consciousness Saturday: “second”
Meme Express: “go for broke”

Theme Thursday: “glasses”

Writer’s Workshop: “spark”

Image/s:

 Thanks to Sepia Saturday

for this vintage/public domain image.

Feel free to follow on Google+ and Twitter. You are also invited to join this writer's fan page on Facebook.