In other wor(l)ds (Haiku)

Sat-com: men build rockets
to penetrate atmosphere
beyond metaphor.


Photo By U.S. Air Force [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

Color transfusion

September, said the sky
stirring the air into a bitter frenzy.
With tension
teeth bared, her clouds growl while
making steel eyes squint back
for clarity between greys.

A breath of earth seeking rain.

Pastels all put away,
slate carries excess white,
backing black and blue up-
on sun less days.
The sky fell into our lap,
sobbing at her reflection.

Autumn yellow goes red
where the seasons bled
(out).




Painting by Johan Christian Dahl [Public domain], Cloud Study over flat landscape (1837) via Wikimedia Commons.

Rememberance

I see myself
in the thicket-as a little girl
with a gleam in her eye
and beat in her step...

She skips along the wooden planks
deep inside the Olympic rainforest-
well ahead of the rest.

She hums
and notices her small feet-
Left...
Left...
Left-                 Right-
Left-
(and nothing but gingerbread left...)

Sing the Song, they pled,
their wise eyes smiling wide
and iron-shod feet shuffling
a long...

"'Twas in Yokohama,
I met this-black mamba-"

No, no, no-Not wrong!
use the words I taught you,
my grandfather groaned.

"'Twas in Yokohama, I met this hot mama
selling radishes, octopus, 
rice and dried squid..."

What was her name,
the other old GI Joe requested-

"Her name was Suzuki,
she was a sharp looking cookie
and she was built like
Brick Chicken House!"

The old men giggled gaily
at the little memory
of their recondite life, that day they
Left the wife
lost in translation
under tropical reverie
the next generation, skipping
a long...

"Chick-a-dee, chik-a-doo
chick-ah-ku, chikaku"



Photo By Unknown or not provided (U.S. National Archives and Records Administration) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons. Conifer seedling arising from charred Timberland (post clear cut) Olympic National Timberland.

Lackluster

You will know
                           by the light
and somehow     confidence flickers...

They all said This-let the light
guide you
Briskly.

It is just
when the winds pick-up
and the leaves begin to dance
                                       a show
of envy-
in longing for the limelight
Strewn
and Plain.
Watch and listen,
                            while the scenery changes.
Tears beget laughter-
                                  save your breath,
you will need to hold it
                                   yourself.
Without a word-

Do not seek
just go.

It is near.




Painting by Shigeru Aoki (青木繁) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

Looking up (Haiku)

I had known flowers

intimately before now

noticing the trees

Painting by Bertha Wegmann [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

Penumbra

shafts of shadow shrink
silhouetted slants shut
downward dimming,
the greedy gleam absorbs
its shade overbearing obfuscation
mimicking migraines on maps...
veins strained, pupils peel back
in drumming dilation-
the ground groans
under the wait
of light.




Painting By George Elbert Burr (Herbert F. Johnson Museum of Art) [Public domain or Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

Twenty-six characters

Have I repeated myself?
            Yes, to excess.
If it is any consolation,
that too
            has been done.
And if this were a real poem-
            it would be a brush painted kanji-
symbolically inexplicable
            by its symbiotic smooth strokes.
It is flow.

So seriously, let us not pretend
            emphasis-a stress-is an echo-as an anaphora
Although,
            the lines look the same,
they are not along the same lines
bound by words
imitating poetry
that is never new-
but you knew This
I have painted it before.



Image from decalrocket.com