"Haiku"

Equatorial
Midday sun no shadow thrown
A summertime home

"Haiku"

Where deep holes made damp
By Monsoon water way down
Drop bucket to fill

"Haiku"

The leaf twisted off
Fell to the hard frozen ground
The shadows grew long

"Haiku"

The blue bells did ring
The white bells swayed aloof
My lavender soon

"Senyru"

Many bad pains felt
A bonding that makes you cry
Tiny hands reach out

"Senyru"

4/4 by RW
-
Thump of bass strumming thong string
growling earth shift, tectonic sing
moving pants legs, beating on chest
blood syncopation rise and crest
wet heart beats meet each pluck and ring
-
-
The BANG continues, living thing
the crowd bows to an aural king
sweat drops traverse a heaving breast
Thump of bass boom
-
-
The pulse of thrum meets tendon's ping
a large, dark bird unfurls wing
the dance floor has become its nest

ZOMBIE

my soul has no care
of its nature
my heart beats
to its loneliness
and I am a flame
fading into dark

ginger out the glass
and fill the kettle with its craft
steam and mix
science class

let cool chill
taste bud thrill!

Still …I am not sure
If I like to be mature.

I am not sure I’ve stopped loving to play
with teddy bears, dolls and the clay.

I still like to drink NIDO- needed for growing
and wear those lovely laced white stockings.

I can’t quit thinking I still need my mom’s love
though I've become a proud mom- myself.

And what should I do with my girlish dream?
That daily flow like pure wild stream?

About a courageous knight on a white horse,
that would once come to propose .

Like porcelain, time
can sliver and shatter,
Lightened spirits,
mind over matter.

Solid once,
in it's true state.
Through molten lava,
before hell's gate.

Slicing, shredding,
causing to bleed.
The wanton collection,
the needless need.

Worn and tattered,
from natures blight.
Tired and restless,
from sleepless night.

Striving for slumber,
weaving a dream.
Finding peace,
from a whispering stream.

In days of old we had our David
Who wrote in psalm his time at war
He found a way to voice his heart
And verse away the blood and gore.

Since that time our poets changed,
And chose to take a simpler guise
The bard told stories in the tavern
And flowered war in people’s eyes.

The soldier distanced from the verse,
His heart at war and mind asleep
Prose was left to rot away,
No rhyme could voice a pain this deep.

old monk
spouts ancient wisdom
a burst of laughter

...

sunny afternoons
tall and thin
lovely shadow

...

falling to pieces
stone to gravel
pet rock bites the dust

...

dandelion puffs
gracefully riding the wind
knowing not of weeds

...

august moon sparkles
sleepy mind in half-dream
butterflies sip tea

...

snowflakes in sunshine
swift comes the end
the shape of water

...

sure and soft the mists of Atlantic
weave bolts of light

in these rains that fall
beyond the lanterns cast
the radiation grows
and grows
the silken fingers
strong and sure

we grow sick and weak
our time demure

the cities dark and blackened
broke
the fires from the bombers spoke

we sing songs around the
lights we keep
and watch for wolves
that hunger feast
and dreams
before the end time
deep

On my way to work today
wild flowers white and butter yellow
adorned both sides of the highway
on long stems set by wind to sway
all shades watercolor mellow.

Spring grass just coming to its head
still lush and almost emerald green
giving sharp contrast to blossoms' bed
where bees and butterflies were seen
in this season of the in between.