The logical place, across the broad expanse
of shoulder blades holding it in parens
the heart being too exposed for this story
of how we met in chairs lined up in a row.
I saw you before you noticed me.
Those years unrolled in between
not a burden, a star-banner shawl
bordered in selvages and hope.
More at http://triciaknoll.com.
It’s too early for a buzz
but he’s pounding them
down anyway. Again.
Like he always does.
By noon, the driveway
will smell like
burning rubber and
the children will pray
he does not wrap himself
around a tree. Again.
The rains today have washed
roads, created ripples of surprise, as the sun peeked
amidst clouds to make this summer annunciation.
After winter’s foreboding for months in toil,
summer’s declaration hazily came. In fits and starts. Bits and pieces and winter sporadically entered. Change of seasons. We clamour for change every time these hills are under the watchful eyes of the sky. Earthquake tremors flash. Change will be, never.
winter sunset
waiting for your train
a goodbye kiss
More at https://twitter.com/Haikuintraining.
Moon in skies
crescent one eyed
lumbering in clear skies
clouds will refresh
memory.
I am two
persons in one
sometimes, or so I think,
until I meet someone
who truly has two sides
I am, by contrast,
a one-sided coin,
an easy to read book
sometimes it seems
no one will pick up
to browse.
It was slight
like a feather tip
cutting into
consciousness,
barely visible
like the thirteenth spoke
of a back wheel.
Like a wind chime
augmenting
the shallow currents
of the approaching gale
we all
anticipate
yet turn our
backs upon.
More at http://paultristram.blogspot.co.uk/.
Happy people make me sick to my stomach
Without rage and disgust what do you really have,
I’ve probably got enough money to ride this life out
The struggle though was much more gratifying.
From watching too much Nat Geo.
That’s the National Geographic channel.
Rhinos, giraffes, warthogs and springboks
have their ecological niches. I just have
to keep them there.
As much as I love the wilds of Africa and
everywhere, I must realize that rhinos,
giraffes, warthogs, and springboks have
yet to read a poem.
Like the tapestry tissue
of a spider’s web,
slung low on gorse
is that path long passed
which holds,
in its cold stone,
regret alone.