NaPoWriMo #17: Cold Blooded Beat

Midday sun
bathes a rock,
like an oasis,
a daily fuel stop
for sluggish snakes
and sleepwalking lizards.
The cold
festers at night,
their blood
permeated with it,
so they sit
on the rocks
facing the glare,
wait for the heat
to rise and ferment,
all the while
their ancient hearts
thump, thump, thump
like starting engines
under simmering skin
and emerald scales.

Cryogenic Foetal Lizard

One silver tadpole,
encased, embalmed,
caught mid-fall
from an oasis
in the branches.

A lizard, curled up,
almost foetal,
scales and claws
preserved, pristine,
by cryogenic sap.

A midge, taking off
from a petrified perch,
framed, glistening,
wings rendered still,
yet in permanent flight.

A red ant, crooked legs,
frozen in its prison,
a bulging abdomen,
a honeypot,
a golden bubble.

(This poem was inspired by a documentary about amber presented by Sir David Attenborough back in 2002. Check out The Amber Time Machine if you get the chance, it's really worth a watch.)

NaPoWriMo #6: Chameleon

And so we arrive at the sixth day in this poetic odyssey. Today's poem is inspired by that famous lizard which can not only camouflage itself, but can move its eyeballs independent and catch prey with a sticky tongue.

Chameleon

It dwells on low hanging branches,
still until a passing insect
lands within its range.

Creeping forward amongst the leaves
with the precision and stiffness
of a clockwork doll,

the chameleon eyes the bug
with pin-point pupils,
the reptilian sniper's sights.

A flash of red ribbon,
the jaws snap shut,
and the waiting begins again.