MrSmith1's picture

    A Day Late Year-End Review at the Haikulodeon - pt. 1

     

    2015 was an amazing year at the Haikulodeon.  I have been going through all the comments this past year and there are so many great haikus, I'm going to post this year-end review in two parts.  I've included some of my haiku comments in the mix because they fit into the thread and sparked other responses.   Thanks to all who responded last year, including Barefooted, Richard Day, Guy named Lulu, moat, Oxy Mora, Peracles Please, Trkingmomoe and Ramona.  

     

    Happy New Year. Dagbloggers!!

     

     


    I feel alive when
    I feel blue, I feel that way
    when I'm happy too.

    I can't stop feeling,
    I won't behave, I won't stop
    till I'm in my grave.


    MrSmith1

     

    ---

     

    First, a song by Cole Porter for no reason other than I was humming it the other day ...

     

    True Love

     

     

     

    ---

     

    Is moth flatulence

    just a poor man's version of

    a butterfly's belch?


    barefooted

     

    ---

     

    Don't start. A moth fart

    though it comes out in the end

    Is made from whole cloth.

     

    MrSmith1


    ---

     


    The curtain goes up,
    Take this scene and wring it dry.
    Life's a one act play.

     

    Oxy Mora

     

    ---


     

    It is snowing now.
    Time to go work on my laugh
    and hang the laundry.

     

    moat

     

    ---


    six haikus:


    I keep caving in
    I am sick of caving in

    Even Moat told me

    To assume more years
    And attempt to accomplish
    Something as I wan

    I have been so damned
    I have been so damned cold here
    Highs get to zero

    Zero as a high?
    Factor in the wind chill temp
    It's twenty below

    I must confront cold
    All men were once boys
    But men become boys

    When they refuse to confront
    I must confront (the) cold or
    I shall surely die

     

    Richard Day

     

    ---

     

     

    If I don't cave in
    I'll end up out in the cold,

    and that is the worst.

    But some people say
    I must continue trying
    to keep myself warm.

     

    barefooted

     

     

    ---


    A writer's silence
    thunders with the fury of
    an angry echo.

    Reverberating,
    finding solace only once
    he retrieves his pen.

     

    barefooted


     

    ---

     

    Rude, rough, and ready,
    love rushes into people
    like an accident.

     

    moat

     

    ---

     

    No Snowmageddon;
    Light fills puddles on Broadway.
    Break time is Over.

     


    moat

     

    ---

     


    haiku quintet


    Oh well, spring will come
    I promise; spring will come soon.
    We only must wait

    The snow makes us clean
    And the spring just makes us green
    But it's cold outside

    Baby it is cold
    It's not like this is so new
    We've seen this before

    Weather, we can know
    Or weather we do know not
    Weather is or not

    It is our own facts
    And only through our own acts
    That seasons apply

     

    Richard Day

     

    ---

     


    He has shadow fame
    singing just like Sinatra.
    What's his name again?

    Stream a cop drama.
    Go to bed too tired to care.
    Wake up---there's coffee!

     

    Oxy Mora

     


    ---

     

     


    Purposeful thinking
    too often devolves into
    questionable thought.


    Resting too assured
    is much akin to sitting
    on a splintered chair.


    barefooted

     

    ---

     

    Purposeful thinking
    will devolve when what you do
    is not on purpose.

    Whenever you sit
    you must be vigilant; check
    your chair for splinters.

     

     

    MrSmith1


    ---

     


    The tattered, old chair
    was ignored and rejected
    'til Grandpa came home.

     


    barefooted


    ---

     

     

    On the Roadshow, that
    tattered old chair attracted
    the Keno brothers.

     

    MrSmith1


    ---

     

     

    The old man just laughed
    when they appraised its value
    in dollars and cents.

     

    barefooted

     

    ---

     


    Then he forgot and
    sat on the chair, which ruined
    its rich patina.

     

    MrSmith1


    ---

     


    And on that sad day
    the old tattered chair became
    Grandpa's life story.

     


    barefooted


     

    ---

     


    And on that sad day
    Grandpa's posterior was
    proved superior.

     


    MrSmith1


     

    ---

     

     

    The disappointment
    over what cannot be won
    questions victory.

     

    moat


    ---

     

     


    His disappointment
    over what could not be won,
    did question the game.

     

     


    MrSmith1


    ---

     

     


    That which can't be won
    is only disappointing
    if never questioned.

     

    barefooted

     

    ---


     

    Cliche is corrupt.
    Muses often give advice
    but they don't do lunch.


    Oxy mora

     

    ---

     

     

     

    She sat quietly,
    ankles crossed, hands in her lap,
    with no expression.

    She stared straight ahead,
    oblivious, unaware,
    heartbreakingly still.

    He sat anxiously,
    loving her, yearning to hear
    his name on her breath.

    He stared at her face,
    surrendering, unafraid,
    courageously gone.

     


    barefooted
     

     

     

    ---


     

    He stared at her face,
    searching for the smallest sign
    that she forgave him.

    She stared at the floor
    wishing he would go away
    for she felt ashamed.

    When their eyes met, they
    felt nothing but the sorrow
    of a love that's lost.

     

     
    MrSmith1


    ---

     


    Love has passed them by.
    No second takes, no reprieves,
    No choir is singing.

     

     
    Oxy Mora


    ---

     

     

    Love has passed through them
    Once was their lot, no regrets
    Choir's echo is sweet

     

    LULU

     

    ---

     


    She tried to find him,
    searching just to catch a glimpse
    of who he once was.

    But she was changing,
    the memories were fading,
    she had let him go.

     

    barefooted

     

    ---

     

    tanka haiku:


    barefooted poems
    the words soothe, like sand castles
    on sunny beaches.

         waves in ascending ripples
         and evenings of wine and song

     
    Oxy Mora

     


    ---

     

    She was the highway
    He was fences and pastures
    They got along well.

     


    Oxy Mora


    ---

     

    She explores pastures,
    I cover the waterfront.
    Call us Surf and Turf.

     

    MrSmith1


    ---

     


    Mittens make unclear
    the seventeen pokes in air
    haikus count upon.

     

    moat

    --


    Counting with mittens
    makes cold, lonely syllables
    feel warm and fuzzy.

     

    barefooted


    --

     

    Counting with Mittens
    a Romney Family game.
    Fuzzy thinking wins.

     


    MrSmith1

     

    ---

     

    tanka haiku:


    blue birds think it's Spring
    it's going to snow tomorrow
    what's with climate change?

         fly into closed barn windows
         or a shiny chimney cap

     

    Oxy Mora

     

    ---

     

    Weathermen don't know
    Neither do the coal miners
    You got canaries?

     

    Oxy Mora


    ---

     

     

     

    She looked great in a
    Brooks Brothers button down shirt
    Darn that dream, darn it

     

    Oxy Mora

     


    ---

     


    Dragged into the fray:
    Reluctant to sacrifice
    Copernicus gaze.

         
    moat

     

    ---

    Galileo said,
    'I orbit Copernicus ...
    that guy gets around.'


     

    MrSmith1

     


    ---

     

     


    His faded, old jeans
    were frayed around the edges --
    Life against the grain.

     

    barefooted


    ---

     


    My faded old jeans
    easy and comfortable;
    worn from the wearing.

     


    MrSmith1

     


    ---

     

     

    The perfect blue jeans
    hold on to your shape until
    you slide them back on.

     
    barefooted

     

    ---


    tanka haiku:


    My smartphone, destroyed;
    slipping out of my pocket
    while shoveling snow.

    The fall was not as harmful
    as the beating in the dark.

     


    moat


    ---

     

    She was just a dame,
    but those tight sweaters melted
    the gum on his shoe.

     

    barefooted

     

    ---

     


    Time will always tell
    the secrets left behind by
    history's stopwatch.

       

    barefooted


    ---

     


    Time will always tell
    whenever a law is passed
    that turns back the clock.


    MrSmith1


    ---


    Turning back the clock
    can make a politician's
    future disappear.

    barefooted


    ---

     

    My kind of spring came
    Paths are open to old folks
    Streets are clear of ice

    My son visited
    And he always asks me how ...?
    And I tell him how

    (Just be yourself, ha!)

    Well I should be good
    I should be better to help
    My family fold

    Just be the best that
    You are without the army
    Make money and love.


    Richard Day


    ---

     


    Grasshopper is told:
    "You have torn the tortilla":
    Flaming pot must wait.

    I am like you, bird;
    singing without a promise,
    hopping branch to branch.


    moat


    ---

     


    Sing for my supper,
    and after a little while,
    Cry into my beer.


     moat

     

    ---

     

    An old Eskimo
    once told of a simple truth
    he'd learned long ago:

    You can never tell
    your friends from your enemies
    until the ice breaks.


    barefooted

     

    ---

     


    Art of the last word
    is very old and quite strange.
    You can lose your way.

    moat


    ---

     


    Orthodoxy ends,
    making room for some silence
    and listening too.


    moat

     

    ---

     


    A rainy news flash:
    Suicidal droplets jump
    from high-rise storm clouds!


    barefooted


    ---


    Stop ... Listen to me.
    Nothing will last. Got it? Good.
    Now go out and play.

     

     


    MrSmith1

     

    ---


    Stop -- listen to me!
    I'm begging you, please don't go,
    just let me explain.


    Stop -- listen to me.
    Your life is worth more than this,
    let's talk for awhile.


    Stop -- listen to me
    my friend, I need to find the
    words to say goodbye.


    barefooted


    ---

     

    Stop--listen to me
    Don't just say you're leaving soon
    Get out already

     
    Oxy Mora


    ---

     


    Stop -- listen to me,
    be careful ... don't let the door
    hit you in the ass.


    barefooted


    ---


    Stop!  Listen to me.
    You're gonna thank me later ...
    Just do the right thing.

     

     

    ---

     


    Just do the right thing.
    If you don't, it will own you -
    it will bruise your soul.


    barefooted

     

    ---

     

    Ah, melancholy,
    A blind date gone off the tracks,
    Smile and do your time.

     

    Oxy Mora

     

    ---

     

    Life is too short to
    wallow in melancholy.
    Marinate? Perhaps.

     

    Never walk around
    with a pebble in your shoe ...
    it will bruise your sole.

     

    MrSmith1


    ---

     


    If you marinate
    in melancholy, you might
    medicate your mind -

    But if you whistle
    while you're wallowing, you can
    wistfully unwind.


    barefooted

     

    ---


    vow freely given
    permits the patience required
    to let some things go.


    moat


    ---


    Vows freely given
    reaffirm a world of hope
    with promises kept.


    When  two hearts in love
    decide to pledge their troth, all
    heaven's doors open.

     


    MrSmith1


    ---


    a vow is an end
    the forsaking others part
    where beauty begins

     

    moat


    ---

     


    The beauty of vows
    forsaking all others; parts
    love and devotion.

     

     MrSmith1  

     


    ---

     

    Love's a symphony ...
    a joyous orchestration
    of synchronized hearts.


    barefooted

     

    ---

     


    A minor mishap?
    A petty problem? Slight snag?
    Cliffhanger! Stay tuned!


    barefooted


    ---

    tanka haiku:

    Rope unwinds from post.
    Red boat slips into the lake.
    Arms rotate blue oars.

       Wide arcs of cheerful parting
       lash the reluctant water.


    moat

     

    ---
     


    tanka haiku:

    Rope unwinds from post,
    tethered dog gets closer to
    catching quick red fox.

       But the fox discovers the
       dog's reach has limitations.


    MrSmith1

     

    ---

     


    Two ropes unwinding;
    one setting free, the other
    tightly constricting.

    Which leashes your soul?
    Undiscovered fantasy
    or the ties that bind?


    barefooted


    ---

     

    here, there is a chain
    and some say there is a door:
    No typography.

     

    moat


    ---

     

    The words themselves bind
    like acorns, nuts, and buds.
    Door is mostly shut.


    moat

     

    ---

     

    Though words may bind you
    Writing makes you regular;
    Do it ev'ry day..

     
    MrSmith1


    ---

     


    If the memories
    are all you have left to hold,
    hold them lovingly.

    If remembering
    her smile makes you shed a tear,
    shed it gratefully.

    But if another
    memory can still be made,
    make it joyously.


    barefooted

     

    ---

     

    2 a.m. in the
    big chair by the bay window
    where she held me tight

    Head full of fever,
    delirious but consoled,
    I let myself be.

    So much water spilt
    over the dam, but her I
    remember that night.


    PeraclesPlease


    ---

     

    Her face obscured by
    lattes, a woman runs by,
    hey, remember me?


    Oxy Mora


    ---


    I'm letting you go.
    Your life is not one I can
    ever understand.

    You need less of me.
    It has taken so much, but
    now I'm listening.

    I cannot mold you.
    The path you've chosen is so
    different than mine.

    You have to help me.
    Accept my love but nothing
    else can I give you.

    I'm letting you go.
    Always touching fingertips
    as you set me free.


    barefooted


    ---


    I will not admit
    I ever held you, but now
    I'm letting you go.

    Feeling you against
    me, got me through the night. but
    now the morning's come.

    We may never meet
    in the flurry of the years,
    but you'll stay with me.

     

    MrSmith1

     

    ---

     

    It is very near.
    The incredible distance
    is an appearance.

     


    moat


    ---

     

    A faraway look
    does not demand great distance;
    just hope for nearness.

     


    MrSmith1


    ---

     

    It is very near ...
    imaginary distance
    carefully portrayed.


    barefooted

     

    ---


    Please try to keep your
    imaginary distance.
    my folks are watching.


    MrSmith1

     

    ---


    She gave him the look
    Intimacy imagined
    junior needs nappies

     

    Oxy Mora


    ---


    She gave him the look.
    Scared him almost enough to
    run away ... almost.

     

    barefooted

     

    ---

     


    Three cuts of the pie
    give eight pieces in between:
    Drawn lines create space.


    moat


    ---

     

    Twilight is the realm
    between who you once were and
    who you've yet to meet.

    A whispered secret
    that lingers in the fragrance
    of your future past.


    barefooted

     

    ---

     


    Screams must be thoughtless -
    consideration masks the
    instinct of the soul.


    barefooted


    ---

     


    Your history a wake
    left behind on life's river
    ripple back to you


    Elusive Trope


    ---

     

    This is cool, it's like
    late-night improv jazz session
    in a smoke-filled bar


    Elusive Trope


    ---


    lightening himself
    coughs and gasps a little bit
    addict for the smoke


    Elusive Trope


    ---

     

    After the concert
    A winded woodwind player
    ponders the walk home


    Elusive Trope

     

    ---

     

    Chills run down her spine
    as she ponders the walk home,
    knowing he'll be there.


    barefooted


    ---


    Knowing he'll be there
    waiting as he always does
    in that chair he made


    Elusive Trope

     

    ---

     


    Work in the garden
    of another's mind, the seasons
    will still be master

     
    Elusive Trope

     

    ---

     


    Work in the garden
    of hopelessness, for you may
    yield a fertile mind.


    barefooted


    ---


    An hour each day, on
    your knees, your face in the dirt,
    will humble your thoughts.


    Work in the garden,
    You'll find what matters most is
    work in the garden.

     


    MrSmith1


    ---

     

    But if you tell fibs,
    don't put your face in the dirt -
    your nose just might grow!


    barefooted


    ---
     

    If you serve food, don't
    put your face in the dirt, you'll
    muddy the waiter.

     
    MrSmith1


    ---

     


    the table all set
    in the muddy cold setting
    waiter sinks, can't move


    Elusive Trope


    ---


    Waiter sinks, can't move.
    Patrons cry out in dismay,
    "Who will serve us now?"

    barefooted


    ---


    argument ensues
    who will rescue the waiter
    over cries for help

    Elusive Trope

     

    ---

     

    In a bawdy boite,
    patrons cry out in dismay,
    "Put it all back on!"

    MrSmith1


    ---


    "Put it all back on!"
    the stage director bellows
    more tables appear.


    Elusive Trope


    ---

     

     

    Library book due
    must photo copy one
    section then return


    Elusive Trope


    ---


    I've been avoiding
    Forty-second and Fifth Ave;
    Library book due.


    MrSmith1


    ---


    Library book on
    Forty-second and Fifth Ave
    Flutters in the wind

     

    Elusive Trope


    ---


    The stone lions on
    Forty-second and Fifth Ave.
    guard chapter and verse.

     

    MrSmith1


    ---


    The stone lions on
    the grand porch of the grand home
    bored with the same view

     

    Elusive Trope
     

    ---

     

    Reach into the dark,
    feel my eyelash brush your cheek,
    let me comfort you.

       Listen for my whispered song ...
       it will carry you to me.


    barefooted


    ---


    Where do I come from?
    I recall the railroad car
    Where diapers were changed

    I was around two?
    And all these women were there ...
    We all seem so lost.

    We all seem so lost
    We are all deprived of love
    Life is not so fair

    But life is just life
    Equality is not there
    Life is so unfair

     

    Richard Day

     

    ---

     


    Much to remember,
    but none of it comes with words -
    at least none I know.

    What's the translation?
    I'm missing the right language -
    the one with his voice.

    I can't spell his smile,
    or find the letters he laughed -
    playfully teasing.

    Much to remember,
    and none of it needs a word -
    except for one ... dad.

       
    barefooted


    ---

     


    I have been a dad
    much longer than I had one:
    Reverse engineer.

       If I do this long enough,
       I will learn how it is done.


    moat

     

    ---

     


    It's all so surreal;
    reality is drifting
    on fanciful seas.

    The birds are laughing;
    crooked branches are twisting
    atop bended trees.

    Sunlight in mirrors;
    old beliefs still afflicting
    beyond the disease.


    barefooted


    ---

     

    It is not simple.
    Victory has its own price.
    Payment is not clear.

       Look at the the big space between
       where generations collide.

     
    moat


    ---

     


    barks at sunflowers,
    argues with dandelions,
    such is sweet grandpa


    Elusive Trope


    ---

     

    With tiny fingers,
    extreme focus, steady nerves,
    he buttoned a fly.

    Oxy Mora


    ---

     

    He buttoned a fly,
    which, he thought, more manly than
    zipping up a moth.

     
    MrSmith1


    ---


    With tiny fingers,
    long lost memories scratching
    our itch to forget.

    barefooted


    ---


    Procreation blues:
    Long lost memories scratching
    our id's bids for kids.


    MrSmith1


    ---

     

    Our id's bids for kids
    like the sleds on which we slid
    tend to flip our lids.


    barefooted


    ---

     

    the memories slide
    like the sleds on which we slid
    faster and faster

    Elusive Trope


    ---

     

     
    Stored in the garage,
    like the sleds on which we slid,
    broken toys we hid.

     

    MrSmith1


    ---

     


    With tiny fingers,
    the young child touches the bark
    of the ancient tree

    Elusive Trope


    ---


    With tiny fingers,
    reaching for ten tiny toes,
    she learned her 'piggies.'


    MrSmith1


    ---

     


    repeating signal,
    like a fog horn heard at sea,
    tells me where I am.

    Circle of bright fire
    that cannot be held with hands
    looks for knowing eyes.


    moat

     

    ---

     

    Boy, were they angry!
    Extra show, but no more dough.
    The Rockettes' red glare.

     

    Oxy Mora


    ---


    Never leave alone
    that which seems clearly defined;
    dictionaries change.

    What is contrary
    to popular conception
    may become the norm.

    Complacency breeds
    ignorance in stubborn hearts;
    embrace the question.

    barefooted


    ---

     


    What is contrary
    to the gadfly is the path
    one should seek to find


    Elusive Trope

     

    ---

     


    forgotten black bird
    sliding through the clouds, restless
    and always searching


    Elusive Trope

     

    ---

     


    Forgotten blackbird
    mournfully searching the light
    for his reflection.

    barefooted


    ---

     

    for his reflection,
    he was told, would offer truth
    no one else could see

    Elusive Trope


    ---


    a slice of apple
    with its green skin and two seeds
    waits without knowing

    Elusive Trope


    ---

     


    "Without knowing what?"
    I asked, but I knew I had
    to get to the core.
     
     

    MrSmith1


    ---


    to get to the core
    one has to shovel all day
    and still not be done

    Elusive Trope


    ---

     

    I was going to speak
    but I can't do Haiku.
    I'll just say goodbye.


    Ramona


    ---

     

    was going to speak
    was going to say my side
    somehow I never did


    Elusive Trope


    ---


    Concerned about grease?
    Never eat German food and
    avoid souvlaki.

    Oxy Mora


    ---


    avoid souvlaki
    I was told, yet I know not
    what is souvlaki

    Elusive Trope


    ---


    some famous grease food,
    moussaka, tzatziki, shish
    kebab and gyro.

     
    Oxy Mora


    ---

     

    (a haiku quartet:)


    The boys had many
    nicknames while workin' the streets;
    Kebab and Gyro,

    Were two of them, but
    Souvlaki Sue and Hortense,
    would make them famous.

    Posing as "trannies"
    was not their idea of fun ...
    then they met, Angel.

    And Angel showed them
    a world they had never known,
    and arrests were made.  

     
    MrSmith1


    ---


    candle-lit cabin
    outside darkness gathering
    sleep is taunting me.

     
    Oxy Mora


    ---
     

    Candle-lit cabin
    on a ship that sails the seas,
    studying the maps.

    MrSmith1


    ---

     

    Studying the maps,
    she decided the best route
    home was staying put.

    barefooted

     

    ---

     


    Studying the maps,
    he grew more cranky, searching
    for his childhood town

     
    Elusive Trope


    ---

     


    For his childhood town,
    he chose Piscataway .. cuz
    he hated Mahwah.


    MrSmith1


    ---

     

    Knowing his old haunt
    Had windows shuttered, doors locked
    And candles burned down

    A Guy Called LULU


    ---

     

    beauty is fleeting:
    papers fluttering across
    unforgiving streets

     

    Elusive Trope


    ---

     

    Beauty is fleeting,
    like Cinderella rushing
    back home at midnight.


    MrSmith1


    ---


    Married for ten years
    To Mildred, Maude and Mabel,
    Brooklyn, Bronx and Queens.

     
    Oxy Mora


    ---


    Married for ten years
    and never an argument ...
    just bitter feelings.

     

    MrSmith1


    ---

     


    A life together.
    Can get a lot of things done;
    Divided labor.

       Being good with words is good;
       But we must carve the mountain.

    moat


    ---

     

    I packed my swimsuit,
    but we must carve the mountain ...
    hope someone brought knives.

     
    MrSmith1


    ---

     

    Getting close to it
    gets the thing done in real time.
    Showing up again.


    moat

     

    ---


    Showing up again.
    Answering futility
    on the same worn path.

    barefooted


    ---


    Secret to success?
    It's very simple really ...
    showing up again.

     

    MrSmith1


    ---


    She has a point, though.
    It could all be really dumb;
    A Novocaine dream.

    moat


    ---

     


    A Novocaine dream
    will often have one sub-text;
    never trust Dentists.


    That was the weird thing;
    it could all be really dumb,
    Republicans don't care.


    She has a point, though
    he was loathe to admit it.
    He hated losing.

     


    MrSmith1


    ---

     

    When the hand gets close,
    what is the body doing?
    Putting itself out.

    moat

    ---

     

     

    Smokey the bear says:
    "A burning forest won't be
    putting itself out."

     

    MrSmith1


    ---


    A hand is withdrawn
    Two young faces lose their charm
    The moment has passed.

    Oxy Mora


    ---


    Friendships may not last,
    People grow apart, and then,
    a hand is withdrawn.


    MrSmith1


    ---

     


    A hand is withdrawn;
    a cheek reddened by blushing
    instead of a slap.

    A hand is withdrawn,
    shyly self-conscious over
    putting itself out.


    barefooted


    ---


    Why is a cat like
    a burning monk? 'Cuz neither's
    putting itself out.  

     
    MrSmith1

     

    ---

     


    A single moment.
    Frozen, left behind the door
    like a speck of dust.

    Solitary time.
    Speechless, hanging in the air
    of a humid day.


    barefooted

     


    ---

     

    At Summer church camp
    he fell in love with Mary,
    packaged with Jesus.


    Oxy Mora

     
    ---


    At the Hootenanny,
    he fell in love with Mary,
    sans Peter and Paul.

    MrSmith1

     


    ---


    I get so damned lost
    I get so damned lost at times
    I can find hope here.


    Richard Day


    ---

     

    Once in a blue moon
    we are all left to wonder
    what life really means.

    The rest of the time
    we just wander aimlessly
    looking for our keys.


    barefooted
     

    ---

     


    What Life really means
    can only be understood
    'neath a paper moon.

    I wandered, looking
    for the key to the manor,
    (which was B minor)

    finding the manor
    key, B minor was major
    (See stars in the sky.)

    Though Major, Minor
    and Manor matter, the
    moon doesn't flatter.

    Green is my valley,
    I kissed Sally too soon, t'was
    once in a blue moon.

     
    MrSmith1

     

    ---

     

    See stars in the sky?
    So minor though it matters
    when she questions why.

    'Neath a paper moon
    he flatters in the valley,
    kissing her too soon.

    barefooted

     


    ---


    my first dying leaf
    I saw it today walking
    August for chrissakes

    We are all dying
    So I perceive leaves dying
    The end must be near.

    Our end is so near
    Entropy is the future
    All 'us' things must end.

    Richard Day


    ---

     


    The freshly cut grass
    perfumed the breeze with summer
    and tickled her nose.


    Running through the yard
    she giggled like a schoolgirl
    kicking off her shoes.


    barefooted

     

    ---

     

    As her 'crush' approached,
    she giggled like a schoolgirl,
    her face turning red.

     

    He lay beside her,
    getting stains on his jeans from
    the freshly cut grass.

     

    Kicking off her shoes,
    She ran down the beach and stepped
    on a jellyfish.

     

    MrSmith1
       

     

    ---

     

    Because he needed
    to feel love's soft vibration,
    he lay beside her.

    They were mesmerized
    by the luminous colors
    on a jellyfish.

    Her face turning red,
    stuttering, swallowing hard,
    she said, "I love you."

    barefooted


    ---

     


    the freight trains had passed
    a cheap motel in Flagstaff​
    finally, we slept.

     
    Oxy Mora


    ---

     

    The ice machine's broke!
    Damn cheap motel in Flagstaff​ ...
    I'm drinkin' warm beer.

     
    MrSmith1


    ---

     

    T'was monsoon season,
    and innocent tourists were
    in for a surprise.

    Strolling in the sun
    became a dash for shelter
    when the skies opened.

    But those who were caught
    beneath the torrents of rain
    found themselves laughing.

    When others questioned,
    the happily drenched answered,
    "It's Monsoon Madness!"

    barefooted


    ---

     


    a day in August
    the heat was never-ending
    Mom made lemonade


    Oxy Mora
     

     

    ---
     

    Mom made lemonade
    Dad worked on the truck, and I
    held the monkey wrench.

    When we took a break
    we listened to the ballgame,
    Mom made sandwiches.

     

    MrSmith1


    ---

     

    I pinned my hair up,
    looked at myself in the glass
    and wondered what else.

    Were my cheeks too pale?
    My lips too thin and pasty?
    Fearful eyes gazed back.

    The brush in my hand,
    I hesitated to choose
    between me and him ...


    barefooted


    ---

     

    To be continued ...

     

     

    Comments

    It was fun reading them again. 


    "Is there such a thing?"

    She waited while he said it ...

    apparently not.

    Then again, she hoped.

    "Really, what's the point of it?"

    A sigh escaped her.

    "Look at me, woman!"

    She lifted her chin and rose ...

    diminishing him.


    Excellent, Missy!

     

    "What's the point of it?"
    (A sigh escaping his lips)
    "Look at me, woman!"

    Please make a note that
    at no time, does who you are
    diminish who I am.

     


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