Can't Hide

Untitled/TurgoArt (Turgo Bastien)/public domain/Image courtesy of Wikimedia Commons

Can’t Hide

“Like a church bell, a coffin, and a vat of melted chocolate, a supply closet is rarely a comfortable place to hide.” ― Lemony Snicket, The Blank Book

                                            

‘Twas lookin’ for a place to hide

right after one late night joyride.

But nothin’ worked.  Still in plain sight.

A bell can’t shade a bright headlight.

We knew we were in trouble ‘cause

we broke some laws.  At least, a clause

or two.  Think they will expedite

the coffins?  Damn! A bright headlight.

So Jerry tried to run.  Not me.

Was snagged by Officer McGee.

And choc or closet?  Full of spite.
Can’t hide when lit by bright headlight.

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Form: Kyrielle.  Inspired by Poetic Asides' Wednesday prompt of 'hiding.'

Fand

photo by Caroline Knopf, image courtesy of Magpie Tales

Fand

Her gilded coat is shiny with

a touch of brine, a touch of myth.

And really, does she stand at guard

with pointed pike and heart so hard?

Or does she honestly reflect

the rocky coast?  Her cheek is flecked

with tears and spray.  Her calling card

is pointed pike and heart so hard.

However, she is just a wraith

who once upon a time had faith.

She’s now at sea: her own churchyard.

No pointed pike; her heart’s the shard.

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The form is Kyrielle.  The inspiration is based on the photograph above, as graciously provided for by Magpie Tales.  The poem, in turn, is about Fand, a fantastic seabird/woman from the tales of Irish mythology.

Choices

On the Pont de l’Europe by Gustave Caillebotte, public domain. Image courtesy of Wikimedia Commons.

Asked and Answered

“Which would you rather be if you had the choice--divinely beautiful or dazzlingly clever or angelically good?” ― L.M. Montgomery, Anne of Green Gables

It is a question, I suppose.

Three choices: what to choose of those.

I don’t think I’ll reply too fast.

The implications might well last.

So, beautiful.  Would that I’d see

a thing divine.  Could that be me?

And clever.  Let me but contrast

the implications.  Might well last.

I think I’m good, ‘though angel-ish?

I doubt it.  Should that be my wish?

I fear I’m at a strong impasse.
Thus, I won’t choose just one, at last.

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The form is Kyrielle.  The poem was inspired by the Wednesday Poetic Asides' prompt of 'At Last.'