Beach Haiku

OFTEN WE VISIT

AND THE SUN NEVER FORGETS

OUR HAPPINESSES

28Mar20

WRITING HAIKU

Poetic Justice

Brand

we live in dark corners of the world,

asking little but a little security and

a little peace-of-mind that does not

seem easily come by these days

when there are so many people

out there who do not really care

for our brand of living life.


18Mar18

What's poetry...

How to write poetry

Magnolias

magnolia trees grow tall and strong,


shedding leaves like a neighbor’s cat


that has come for a brief visit and food;                                                        

magnolias surround the yard providing


privacy for those who don’t want it,


at least not all the time, they claim;


magnolias swing in the wind but never                                        

twist and break like other trees with


shallow roots or hollowed out insides;


magnolia blossoms bloom after five years


with an aroma that unlike a rose or orchid


but with a perfume that is so intoxicating;


magnolias thrive in the south where is it


not as harsh in the winters and provide


magnificent shelter when tall and mature.


18Mar18

how perfect she is
in the darkness
the way she calls
on us to hide;
her obsessive attitude
striking fear
into our souls
and our minds
for shelter from her
as she blurts out
with her righteousness
and that her will
be done forever...

Without Delay

in my head

ringing



dinging



are those bells



those damn bells



playing back and



forth as if                                                                                      

there is nothing



better to do



than to torture



me this day



with their

constant ringing



dinging



without delay.



17Mar18

Sounds of Music

there are no sounds of music in my


head today, even though I awoke


humming a tune from the 60’s;


coffee sits inside the metal heated


chamber in my hand, and as I slide


open where to drink, I wonder why              


I had already forgotten the tune;


memories always seem to fall short


of expectations the older I become


and life dances around me, taunting


me to remember it another way;


tunes and melodies rattle around


like the pocket change I hate to carry


but I always seem to need a penny.


17Mar18

Paws

the paws of life walk all over us at night


as if we belong to them rather than to


ourselves and to each other, yet when


we awake there is either a cat or a dog        


lying in our beds that was uninvited,


waiting for us provide breakfast and


spend our first few minutes of each


day making sure our animal is loved.


17Mar18

Sitting Around

sitting on my back deck of hope, I gaze at the universe


around me and wonder how many years or months,


weeks or days, are left for me to witness all that I have


taken for granted in the few brief years of my existence;


sitting underneath the gazebo of desire and wants, I


realize that there is nothing left for me as what I need


most of all is not places and things but life itself and

try to value what little left I have of it here in this space;



sitting in the hot tub of contemplation, I feel the warmth


around me wonder how many minutes are left on the timer,


before a new cycle is begun and I am asked to leave as if


there is a lengthy line waiting to experience the same joys.


17Mar18

Taking a break...

Following

a day of reckoning with the dirt in our yard


is way of undoing the sins of the soul or so


I have been told by those who shaped my life


and if, I were to ignore their sage advice, I am


wondering what kind of a person would be I


and what kind of future would have I if it were


not for me following the advice of older people?


17Mar18

Wellness... lol

strolling down the forgotten path inside
I stumbled over the words left behind
the bushes near the tired pond where

fishing was plentiful years ago and
all the leaves were green instead of
shades of reds, yellows, and browns,
where fantasies were well rehearsed,
dreams were buxom and bold and                                  
erotica had no internal limits nor
pauses for external stimulation,
where ideologies were fluid and
fears were non-existent and hope
was more than just a Sunday lesson,
where gentle was the day when love
did not pass by frequently and all
moments were concise and precise
and nothing was overlooked when
the right word needed to be found.

23Mar20

Maya Angelou Interview

P & S

the irony of the day is that it is supposed to rain


and wash away the grass seed planted days before,


but even with the laying down of straw, the seed


was eaten by the birds just minutes before and we


managed to find the right excuse to explain the


pain and suffering we felt from all our wasted labors.


17Mar18

Hesitation

hesitation blinks its tired eyes in my direction,


justice lays on the ground like a trapped rat


being chased by a legal cat on a mission,


we rant and rave at a moment’s notice with


or without justification as if our cause is the


only one in the world worth fighting for when


in real terms, it is just another dying cause that


people gave up on years ago before hesitation.


17Mar18

Contemplation

overcast and cool, the morning starts


one for the books I would have to think,


singing birds and flying owls mark the spot


at which I have found myself in life, as                                      

I contemplate the beginning of it all


as well as the end of what it might have been;


doggedly, we pursue whatever course of action


strikes our fancy hoping it be more productive


than originally thought, but expecting


disappointment just in case we were wrong


as we have been so often before this day.


17Mar18

Sounds of the City

owners bark out at their dogs trotting around corners


looking for a quiet place to silently defecate,


sirens of police are drowned out by the sirens


ambulances heading on more direct routes,


vehicle horns blast out for seemingly no purpose


as pedestrians walk in between parked cars and


engines growl out their impatience,


walking and talking above the crowd is an art,


especially when talking on the phone,


barkers and non-sexual harassers make ever


attempt to sell you a ticket inside,


drunkards piss in the alleys beside the homeless


who dare no snore too loud and hailers’


raise their arms in a Statue of Liberty gesture


hoping to retrieve a cabby to their location,


doors open and close and blasts of heat


warm those who pass through,


jack hammers tear up concrete right beside our feet


as we tip-toe past the congestion, and if,


if were not for the changing street lights, we


would have no quiet here at all.


23nov17

Monument and Cities

down through the city streets I walk


arm-in-arm with my emotional defenses,


waiting to see if the light-of-day


really is as bright as they claim it to be;


figments of my imagination fly by


as the chilly winds of forgetfulness


blow hard down below the buildings


that stand tall on either side of me;


crucial monuments stand in my way


as streets are crossed at each intersection                                

and avenues are over-looked because


they head in the wrong direction;


fleets of observers’ flock to my rescue


as coffee spills out of my cup and I


forget my apologies have been left


in my room along with my wallet.


23nov17

Cracked Glasses

inside the cupboard of the mind

desire for loneliness supersedes

public opinion as instinct rests

in a dark, black alley with the

rest of the rats that freely roam the

city once thoughts are dismissed;

traitors of the right that have gone

to the liberal left cannot be blessed

without seeking redemption

from those who take their place

and must also hide in these

dark alleyways until discovered;

readers review the credentials

of the dying writers and decide

that too much knowledge is

not near enough to escape the

ravages of the mind once it has

been discovered that all the

glasses in the cupboard are cracked.


23nov17

Waiting Alone

except for the light in the makeshift kitchen,

in the dark, here I sit,

waiting for my thoughts to arrive in rapid

succession as they have done before;

but, my request has

been denied by a higher authority

and empty again am I.


23nov17

VALENTINES 2020

We remember the good times…

We remember the bad times…

while memories are held captive on photographs

and the years flow by like a raging river;

The days of our lives obscure the words

that are so easily tossed about like

cats toying endlessly with mice, labeling

conflicts as healthy byproducts of love;

Over the years we have endured and

lured into our minds, abstract symptoms

of what might not have been meant to be

yet somehow persistence survived it all;

There is no mediation assigned here

only that which was our destiny as if

we had no choice in the matter even

though brutal choices had been made;

Perhaps no courage or honor lives

at the foot of our bed, but the blanket

of loyalty covers us in the winter and

cools us in the summer without fail;

We are with fault and limitations

We are careless and reckless with words

We live on the fine edge of maturity

We depend on each other’s silent forgiveness;

Years float by us like last night’s dreams

oftentimes forgotten before remembered

still, in the wake of time’s flowing river

we will always be each other’s Valentine.

alone...
in a vacuum of
self-awareness thoughts,
traveling...
one side to another,
unable to grasp,
drowning...
without contact
without touch
without communion,
seeking...
that which is not
in my realm
of possibilities.
3-16-20