(based on suggestions from @notcharming and @Quadelle)
Dry leaves are kittens
scattered on stiff legs
wide as a finger.
Snapped from the tree
like a tiny neck
they bounce, pretend
the wind is a monster.
Ruffle in the shape
of a pronged hand
Small cats wave triangle
tails from the trees.
Fat round seed bellies
droop low, sleepy and
tight with breakfast.
Flashes in autumn’s eye
Warning: soon it will
pounce
with needle twig claws
make us giggle at this
drama of what is only
leaping from a branch.
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Today's poem is based on suggestions from two peeps:
- @notcharming: "KITTENS"
- @Quadelle: "How about autumn?"
Today's poem is quite simple, an imagistic attempt at turning autumn leaves into kittens. Not exactly anthropomorphising...cathropomorphising? You know when kittens get a wild look in their eyes and then boing around with their little legs all splayed out and stiffened? That bit. Cracks me up.
Chatons feuilles is French for 'leaf kittens', because everything sounds better in French. Until you try to do the 'r', that is.
1 comment:
I've never thought of leaves as kittens before, but I think it actually works. I especially love the 'pounce' and where it's placed. :)
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