Wolverine Dreams

The wolverine dreams of ripe tangerines  
in the mouth of a plump pink flamingo,  
unconcerned by the sharp flamingo screams  
as round, roasting, round on the spit she goes...  
   
He had wondered why it was named a spit  
till he got too close to the spitting fire,  
the burning feathers bothered not one whit  
now he was nearing his hearts desire...  
   
A meal of a fruited, roasted, game bird  
sauced by the decreasing screams down to whine,  
quieting now till all that can be heard  
is the wolverine stropping his claws, to dine...  
   
" She'll make a fine banquet will that Rosie "  
Thought the wolverine sipping chilled, Rosé

Wolverines scream at the door of the night,
flamingos fly in flocks across the sky
and tangerines scattered across the floor.

Wolverines, flamingos and tangerines
as distinct elements of nature.

The wolverines that scream in the night
They hunt prey with strength and cunning.
Defending territories with ferocity.

Elegant birds migrate around the world
and fly in synchronized formations.
Landing in lagoons with their delicacy.

The ripe fruits that decorate the streets,
offer flavor with sweetness and freshness.
They brighten the environment with their colors.

Wolverines, flamingos and tangerines
are distinct symbols of expressing feelings.
they draw bravery, elegance and joy in the air.

At the gates of the night,
the scream that challenges the darkness.
These claws tear infinity.
These roars break the loneliness.

In the sky, a bunch of colors...
It's the bird that travels through the air
with their feathers painting horizons
On the floor, the point of light,
It is the fruit that fills us with flavor.

The beast, the bird and the fruit
are metaphors for many emotions.
expressing bravery, elegance and joy.
They breathe the poetry and art of songs.
​

For some nights I sleep serene
and others, nightmares where I scream
and the worst of all is pure spleen

As pink flamingos on the lake
pecking as I lie prostrate
I thrash and shout and remonstrate
in terror when I fail to wake

Soon comes my death, closed
the coffin lid ,awake I lie in still repose
my greatest fear and dread that grows
my demise has been disclosed, not the end I chose

Now comes dreaded curse
a warewolf scratching at the earth
ravenous for flesh, what could be worse!
or transport in a tangerine hurse