Why do I write if/
my words, one day, will vanish?
Why do I eat, drink?
Prompted by The Book of Mormon, 2nd Nephi, Chapter 25, verse 26:
“26 And we talk of Christ, we rejoice in Christ, we preach of Christ, we prophesy of Christ, and we write according to our prophecies, that our children may know to what source they may look for a remission of their sins.”
Walking the aisles/
of Wal-Mart, she vanished, and /
there was no roll-back.
Dreams arise quickly,/
cloud your mind and reason, then/
vanish just as fast.
(OR)
… then/
reality comes.
I’m starting to write in sets. As with yesterday’s collection, this morning group of haiku starts with the earliest first, spread over a couple of hours.
Sunday, Oct. 28, 4:17 a.m.
Response To A Late Text
I sleep early to/
ease my pain, so I’m sorry/
if I don’t answer.
———
4:19 a.m.
Am I Angry?
It was never an/
anger, just a hurt caused by/
the constant silence.
OR
I’m never angry,/
just feeling hurt again by/
your constant silence.
OR
I’m rarely angry./
I’m feeling confused again/
by distant silence.
——-
4:43 a.m.
Finally Getting An Oldie
There’s a song that says:/
“I haven’t got time for the/
pain.” Now I get it.
——————
4:49 a.m.
Full Moon Alone
Does she care what it’s/
like to see a full moon with/
no one to share it?
——–
5 a.m.
Gooey Realization
I just realized:/
The warm goo inside of you/
is not there from me.
———–
5:13 a.m.
How Warm Feelings Are Lost
I shouldn’t have told/
you that I felt warm goo, too./
Silence vanished it.
———–
I can’t ignore my/
problems and hope they’ll vanish./
I’ll face them head on.
A friend wrote the following email:
“I apologize for intruding in your e-mail/life but I MISS YOUR POETRY SO MUCH! What happened to your one-a-day poem goal? I still check your blog at least once a day. WHEN you post, my heart starts beating & I relish every word! Then there is the day after day after day of….nothing. I hope all is well with you and you are just busy.
~A starving, yearning, craving, longing, ravenous, eager, hopeful, languishing (you get the drift) poetry fan.”
In response, several thoughts came up. This is probably the most correct (and profound):
She asked where and why/
my poems vanished. She never/
grasped her muse power.
When you’re expected/
to be there, and you vanish,/
people can get hurt.
She suddenly and/
completely would vanish, and/
I never knew why.