Magazine Posts

Someone or thing was beside the tree,
feeding my mind with uncertainty.
Should I stay or should I flee?
Someone or thing, was now watching me.
I decided to stay. I wanted to see,
as at that moment it was curiosity,
not waiting for what it may be.
I must find out; what is the reality.
Moving forward, so very cautiously,
Was a puppy, running so happily,
as I rejoiced as he ran to me
and licked my face so readily.

My brain is in some kind of a funk
for all I am writing looks like junk.

Click the image below to read Tim Jone's article 

The wind in the valley
is blowing quite hard.
Blowing all of the debris
out of our yard.
That's not all bad,
if you know what I mean,
except the neighbors debris
is now my yards scene.

My hat was on
and then I said,
I feel the rain
on the back of my head.
Is your hat waterproof?
they asked of I.
It must not be
for my head isn't dry.

Deep in the forest,
where you'd never go,
there dwells a creature,
you may not know.
A creature quite short
or stocky to see.
A grumpy one certainly,
it reminded me of me.
His name is Badger,
He roots through the soil,
looking for some food
before it does spoil.

She came up to me.
her eyes filled with dread.
She had been sleeping,
The sleep of the dead.

A sleep so deep;
no thoughts, no dreams,
no tossing or turning,
not what it seems.
For centuries it's happened,
that is well known,
the deepest of sleep,
when tired to the bone.

Oh you poor little slug,
you're not an insect,
nor are you a bug.
You'll chew all the leaves
of the colorful Primrose.
Would you please stop,
or is it anything goes?
Out comes the Sluggo
or the grey goop Deadline,
to keep you from eating
those pretty flowers of mine.

A one hit wonder,
is that what you are?
Surrounded by fans,
both near and far.

Your rise to fame,
your being a star,
is remarkable now,
when seen from afar.

The most beautiful women,
the fanciest car.
we now know you
are a Rising Star.

Into the night with
darkest of sky,
he waited patiently for
the Moon to pass by.
The brightness, came slow
and gradually.
He could see where to
step, walking gingerly.
Trying to be quiet so he
wouldn't be heard.
Creeping so closely to
that elusive bird.
One that is a beauty,
known all around.
This was the place where
it could be found.
The colorful feathers reminded
him of you,
when in pursuit of the elusive,
beautiful, Cockatoo.

www.adriennehedger.com
www.facebook.com/HedgerHumor

Of all things, in this World I've seen,
there has never been anything
like a well oiled machine.
The sound of that clickety clack,
raised the hairs on your back.
A clatter of valves, camshaft of course,
the exhaust of the rear engine,
air cooled 911 Porsche.