Tim Miner's Musings

Krik! Krik! Krik! Avem and a dozen other mothers called out to their chicks. Her two chicks have been missing for four nights now. Their chicks have not been found just yet. By maternal guild, they hovered in the air; with nowhere to perch, occasionally looking down for that familiar plume and life. Only a gang of scavenging Sciurus lumbered around on the ground, mocking their call-outs with squeaks so horrible they hurt their ears. This called for punishment. KRIK! No answer. KRIK! Nothing was said. It was one of the saddest days of their lives. Trees get cut down in Mearowi daily, making food scarce for all. Trees have been disappearing for a longtime now, turning the land bare but not their brood. KRIK! Vir has been setting forests and grasslands on fire, pushing away other realities and life forms. But who cuts down the sacred Baobab that houses Avem’s clan? KRIK! The last of its kind on Mearowi. Who is this prick? KRIK! They cried out to Mearowi gods...

How lovely lilies and lilacs line any garden, lively How sweet lorikeets sing as they comb blossoms, symphony Magical dews dance on weedy paths, pickled Just how sweet and artful thy touches wert, condensing How we should act in the face of hate and misguided fear, love So, unquiet that it refuses to fit the frame, Fluid - perfectly human, Reverberant, resolute, Flooding in colours loud and merry, Unfeigned, unchanged Raging in hushed tones, yet thrives. Inconstant like desert streams, Softening, desirous Erotically erroneous, a possessed pair Fits like a dovetail, Rich, passionate That country hath no darkness nor sadness but, bright sunshines and laughter Yet hits like a thousand grits in the sand storm, their privation Heals and binds, makes dissimilar similar, joyous and unfettered By nature, by nurture, Springs irrigate the oasis.

We will seal this blood feud like good cabals do, gushed wrists and slit throats for unyielded wallets and cellphones with guns. Ignored pleas but Twaf!... for toughies for we all are good dyers, all hearts bleed. Justice is, just us, the  cops... human lefts . We will seal this blood feud like good cabals do, gushed wrists and slit throats for wallets  and cellphones unyielded with guns.  Ignored pleas but Twaf!... for the toughies for we all are good dyers, all hearts bleed. Justice is, just us, the  cops... human lefts .

Before the birth of the night and the accompanying rain, The sky was in no pain; She was bold and all blue, Her evening dress clear and new, The clouds put up a happy show; Roaring thuds and fire flashes in a tow, She whimpered, Wind brewed and willows danced; Mother Nature stirr’d up her brood, Frogs croaked, worms wiggled and cows mooed; Palpable, so happy a mood, Swallows flit as the sky hued to nimbus; From the sweet orange and scattered yellow cumulus, Unwrapping scents of the rain on dry earth and the sun mellows, The muse lain with me on a heap of feather pillows, Hills and ridges fuddled all night as at the sea, Wide was the gulf between your lips and mine, my queen bee; Longing for the night, you’ll be unafraid of me.