Huuklyeand Cinquor on The Poetry Conundrum Factor

What do you expect to gain 
When you ask yourself what 
It is with this game when 
You’re at a loss for words 
Save the riddle that remains. 


Moderator’s comments: ?

How Aesop Nourished My Grotesque Childhood Imagination

As I was 

An eager beaver 
Starved for mind- 
Blowing sustenance, 

Amongst a flock 
Of fabulous doings 
He was said to have 

Wolfed down the bitter 
Cold of a polar bear 
Wearing the panoply 

Of a lobster dressed to kill. 

Abandoned Cow Stalls on Farm Near Fukushima, Japan

Too contented 
To know how to react 
When things go sour, what’s left 
Of the cows remains 
In various stages 
Of rot in empty stalls— 
And the phantom farmers? 

Steeped as they were in high- 
On-the-hog atomic subsidies, 
One surmises they knew 
Better than to stick around 
Too long and high-tailed it 
Out of the premises 
While the milking was still good— 

But this remains idle speculation 
Till the day they feel the answer truly 
Seeping in deep down in their bones. 

Food for Aesthetic Homo Sapient Thought

Coming across photo 
Of beautiful decaying 
Beached albatross 

Carcass, stomach eaten 
Away by engrossing 
Blue yellow red green 

Plastic rot gutting still 
Life work of so much 
Undigested mishmash. 

These Gawkers Never Knew What Hit Them

They forgot 
Rote can be useful as hell— 
For one thing, you can tell 

Spring’s peeling rubber rounding 
The corner headed our way 
By tallying all those rubbed out 

Toads splayed and flattened like 
Pemmican on the asphalt 
Straightaway.