Dear Readers,

With sadness but no regret, my writing at Beyond the Bozone is complete. The blog will remain archived here. I may remove pieces if I choose to revise them for publication. All of the work here is mine. Read it and enjoy it. Your presence here is what makes blogging worthwhile.

My ego will have me yearning for Blogger’s followers feature, but it bothers me that Blogger makes it difficult for many WordPress writers to leave their imprint in the comment sections beneath posts. In the comments at WordPress bloggers are able to reply directly below individual comments. That is also a feature sending me their way.

I’ll miss the Bozone, but it is time to move forward. Please visit my new Wordpress blogs gathered stones and undercaws, where I hope you will find the commenting more friendly.

Peace.

~Brenda

serpentdragonmanbird

Serpentdragonmanbird
with your tail so sharp
and your aim so true
I fear the air surrounding you.

You’re a slithering sneak
with a raven’s beak
and the face
of a striking young man.

Your feathered reptilian wings
spread flight in circling rings.
Your neck stretches scales
and your serpentine tail
threatens to impale
little me.
Oh my!
It threatens to impale
little me.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Here is the prompt from We Write Poems. “Think of a child’s painting (like something on the refrigerator). What creatures might there be? Something fanciful, something mysterious, something you’ve never ever seen before! Maybe like something from a dream, or maybe just what your fingers might doodle on their own, surprising you. What might they mean to you observing now? Close your eyes for a moment, let the images dance, be willing to listen to their voices and see what poem they want to write!”

I imagined a creature rising up out of the mist and wrote this in the car yesterday on a Montana road trip (of course I travel with a copy of poetry prompts!).

it ended before it began

In the gaudy glow of afterbirth
a field mouse burrows its hantavirus hole,
unknowingly pulling Hank the Hired Man
into death’s murmuring abyss.
His chest undulates convulsions
while Misty Winston, the Rancher’s Daughter
touches his common cheek
unafraid of Daddy’s inky wrath.

Her hero lies dying
spinning his way into
purple nothingness.

He stills and her beating heart breaks.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Hantavirus is an often-fatal respiratory disease carried by field mice. It occurs with low incidence in Montana. Its onset is not as sudden as the piece makes it seem. It starts with flulike symptoms and progresses from there. This piece was from the wordle words at a whirling whirl of Sundays.

a string of piku

swallow dives
hard
backwards in wind
=
airplane flies
through
turbulent wind
=
tornado
flies
lives become wind
=
whoosh! cries the
wind
whistling its sin


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A shout out to Tilly Bud, who got me writing piku this week. Tilly authored the prompt at We Write Poems this week. Here it is:
Write a piku. (a cross between a haiku and the first three numbers of pi.)

three lines
3 syllables Line 1
1 syllable Line 2
4 syllables Line 3

Next
choose one or two key words
find rhymes for them
slightly re-write the first piku