Random Poems

A Fly

Bernard Demaere

 

A fly,

Coming through the open window,

Uninvited, winged monster,

Darkly clothed,

And landing on my paper.

Its legs, thin and crossed,

Become linked

And, inked,

To the page.

As I write a story

About elements,

Seemingly,

Unnecessary,

In all creation,

Like the fly,

And the mosquito,

Touching,

The dead,

And the living,

And leaving,

In the end,

A bloody mess,

Of scraps and bones.

A Scene at Sunset

Bernard Demaere

 

The Sun, I couldn’t see,

Was behind the mountains.

The dark silhouettes were cutting.

The sky was still blue like the sea.

But over yonder were clouds of rain.

 

The shining Sun was confounding,

Left a glance on clouds already pink.

Floating high above, they overlooked,

That scene and that’s all it took,

And that was the miracle, just like a painting.

This was the ending.

A Simple Act Put on by a Cat

Bernard Demaere

(Ziggy)

 A friend of mine had a cat that I saw

Catching flies in the front row.

He was black and looked through yellow eyes.

Jumping, standing, he was hunting for the flies.

 

He had fun, you could have heard it.

Purring, it was his pleasure displayed.

It was behind the wind that all was played,

By a sunny day, it was a delight.

 

No one would have dared interrupt him.

The opening of a simple act.

Who was the actor, it was the cat!

I could have said something, but…

 

It was such a delight to my eyes,

To see through his eyes, the death of the flies.

When the scene was over, he suddenly packed up,

But if more flies had come then it was a new start,

Of a simple act put on by a cat!