We all make stories/
of how others feel. If we/
ask, truths are revealed.
Monthly Archives: January 2024
Power Vortex And Falls: Nature Observation Haiku
Negative ions
rise from falls between two rock
vortexes. Power
Cold Medicine Free Verse
As he wearily made his way
to his king size empty bed
alone
it was a song better left unsaid,
unsung.
He heavily breathing
from sinus infection
and midwinter cold
and allergies
and dust,
from cleaning up messes
that were not his own,
yet were,
taking the green pill,
medicine that would cure
his cough
or at least let him sleep,
(although he must be woken up later to take the medicine that would keep his heart beating.)
And he just watched a movie
about lunch
that reminded him of a film
about dinner,
and why has never anyone made one
about breakfast,
the most important meal of the day,
because after breakfast no one can write.
Don’t wait up.
And the movies and the poems that spawn them,
he wonders if he could write such,
that perhaps some obscure
Art House actor and actress could make them come to life
and seem more real
and less pretentious than they are.
Then, in the midst of his rambling,
the door opens
and she who was once
the author and finisher
of his life and salvation
interrupts
and he doesn’t know if it’s about
old men’s diapers
or the ice cream mess
he had to clean up from the floor
because she,
unaware,
left it there.
Will the House burn down someday?
Is he the only one who can see?
And the art house films
remind him of his daughter,
cosmopolitan
(though not in a cosmo girl type of way,)
but living in the Queen City
or the Big Apple,
and now he is out
in rural deplorable land
and he wonders if his lack of connection
to the arts,
to music,
and to Passion
is robbing him?
Or is it feeding his soul
with something much deeper,
much more mature,
something that Nature can bring
only to those who are immersed
deep
within her.
He shuts his eyes
and picks his toenails
and slowly moves
back
and
forth,
wondering if he will fall
while reaching for
the box of Kleenex
rescued from the back
of a non-functioning SUV,
at first covered with mouse feces,
but then underneath functional enough
to capture
the dregs of his draining brain
as he pushes
and pushes
and pushes
so hard that
his ears pop.
Beethoven’s Ninth Nap Timed: IMprov Haiku
I’ve learned that the last
movement of Beethoven’s Ninth
is perfect nap-timed
Why Should I Care Slumber: Free Verse
She wants more,
cracks open the door,
slowly shutting it
as he droans on,
drones on
and on
and when he asks
what she needs
“Nothing.”
“What do you want?”
“Nothing.
I was wondering who
you were talking to.”
And doesn’t that really ask
the penultimate question?
“Who am I talking to?
What am I talking to?
What am I talking to who about?”
Does it matter?
Why should I care?
As I slip into
the abyss
of Nyquil-induced slumber,
I can only hope my alarm
eventually wakes me up.
And then,
that I won’t need melatonin
to go back to sleep
again.
Writing, Worried: Free Verse
Is he pretentious,
talented,
whimsical,
or just exhausted
and silly?
At last,
he is writing,
worried about what others think.
He hasn’t done that
in a long time.
He hasn’t cared.
Rainwater Tea Base: Haiku
Will she get angry
once she learns fresh rainwater
is native tea base?
Rain Puddle Cold Water Gathering: Haiku
When the rain puddles,
then cold comes, gather water
with freezing fingers.
Ill I’ll Sit, Doing Nothing: Free Verse Lament
Ill I’ll sit,
doing nothing.
A beautiful sunny,
mid-winter’s day
beckons,
but I,
sinuses backed up,
mouth agape,
feel no urge
to venture out.
Snot pushing up
into my brain
seems to plug
every
and any
thoughts I might have.
Hazy-headed,
I attempt to breathe,
but instead
mearly gasp.
There should be more
to write about,
to think about,
to do,
but this giant screen
covers and prevents
any outlet
of creativity.
My coughing
hurts my back,
makes me want to crawl
back into bed,
snuggle under
warm covers,
where I can’t breate,
and will only think
of how I should be doing something,
anything.
But what?
Orange Hat Bobbing Field Walk: Haiku
I watch her orange/
hat bobbing o’er wildflowers:
mid-winter field walk.