Catalectic Dactyl

What is the nature of things, said the man.
Guess, for I’ll not tell a thing of the plan.
Wonder and fuss with the thoughts if you can.
I will not help you a whit with the scan.

Are they real or fake
a question often asked.
You don’t have to partake
to have truth unmasked.

Movement is the clue,
when lady breathes or sighs.
The ripple is so true
it cannot be denied.

the winter morning sun
warming my shoulders

eyes closed
deeply breathing in the first for the day
wishing it to be the last
knowing it won't

remembering hours of
determination
coughing, choking
nausea

desire utmost
to look 'cool"

watching the old movies,
how they handled the hold
the exhalation
Bette Davis' style especially avidly studied
'til I got it right....
in my mind, that is

by then addicted
within a smoke screen of ignorance
.

Dank and gray dawns this chill day
as I shrug into my coat of plaid.
Winter has come here to stay,
the trees about all bare and sad.

The ice storm of a day ago
demands I check the pasture fence
lest cattle find it down and go
to where the woods grow wild and dense.

I'll begin here atop the hill
and stiffly mount my ATV
then swallow an arthritis pill.
Years have at last caught up with me.

It's my last day with the old giants
In mourning I hike the lost trails,
sniffing the aroma of the bark,
that cinnamon of the forest
Under tepees of wood
in a membrane of shadows,
I stalk the earth, its mammal traces,
its elusive tracks,
to sit on a fallen log
where spiders macramé,
moss sloping to my knees
unaware of invisibles within,
grubbing in their tunnels
A lizard taps my foot,
responding, I muse to its touch,
my thoughts like Indian visions,

With a book / you can cook

All this food / for each mood.

With that a/pron on tight,

Cook with all / of your might.

Said the snake/ to the rake

Can you wrigg/le like me?

Said the rake/ to the snake 

Can you write/ poetry?

http://vocaroo.com/i/s16dQuqlAHSn

I wasn't as sure about this example.

In my house sits a picture on the white white wall

Walking across the vast plains
I traverse my territory,
with long majestic strides,
and my thick brown mane
dancing with the wind
my eyes wide open
for that unfortunate soul
who dares enter my empire.

I let my concubines hunt
for I need my strength,
I am their king,
their protector,
their love.
And they are my Pride.

Twas the day of the wedding, all dressed there at five,
with excitement she waited for him to arrive,
when a note from the scoundrel arrived via post
and the message enclosed turned her white as a ghost,
said 'I can't come today after all we've been through,
for my wife, she objects to my marrying you.'
.