May I ask a Haiku or two?

I

The month of May is

politely asking you to

wear your Summer Blues

II

May wants nothing more

than to sweat out Spring Fever

hallucinating summer

Image by Peder Severin Krøyer, c. 1892 Summer evening [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons 

Botanical blasphemy

Perhaps someone knowledgeable could assist me
as to the origins of some common names in Botany?

Some terms now seem offensive-
so I shall tread rather pensive.

Did miner's really desire a salad to eat
on the golden trail, seeking mini lettuce under feet?

What about the poor mother in law
who gifts sharp tongues out of her barrel cactus maw?

Did anyone talk to the Jew who was wandering-
who was maybe not lost, just walking and pondering?

I'd like to think the Indians could not live without Art,
and chose paintbrushes of flowers, or anything with a pretty part.

Or that the Japanese would build little boxes-
from the stalk of little shrubs, even using bonsai axes.

Perhaps Pliny picked a pepper,
his ghost seed carried a la zephyr.

There are some names I'm sure my family just made up
banana succulent, kangaroo paw, elephants foot, the Scarlet cup

I like those names that are easy to say
as opposed to the other twisted Latin way

which are often coded insults to lower species
all of which happen to thrive in feces

In my observation, the plants I've given a common name
have a special glow not like their anonymous or Latin same

Have you tried this too?
I was just wondering if you knew...



Image of Miners Lettuce By glmory (Own work) [CC0], via Wikimedia Commons.

The possibilities of a fractal

The way I see it-

art contains real magic.

Like blinking, or like an automaton,-always on.

Projecting its wizardry when no one’s there to see it.

A child is a miracle-

of busy blurred lines.

Making it difficult for others to focus on them directly,

blinded by their angelic buzz of innate electricity.

Art is the grandchild of God-

or whatever grand-father you Believe in.

It’s immaculate conception and delivery are born proof,

of a source, the straw that was pulled, the ignition point.

We are the ghosts of our grandchildren.

Now.

We have to pave the way, clearing our Karmic path

to Here.

Art arrests shape-

holds it captive-

to represent-

likeness-ness.

Our family tree,

rooted in our orchards of History,

bears ripe fruit of juicy inspiration,

tastes like sweet familiar childhood in the shape of a fractal.

Image By Randomness (Own work) [CC0], via Wikimedia Commons, 'Fractal face of Beauty, 2008'.

River rocks

The strangest thing about change

is You

who won't move.

Rivers start from a spring-

a need to move

Onward.

Convinced in mossy stoicism,

the rocks jump in

to gather ground.

Bubbling in the hustle,

eddying around,

resisting the rush-

You are the smooth stone.

Let it go.

Image By Rhodington (Own work) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

Throwing Moth Balls and Catching Fly's

Why it was just the other day, I was staring at the ground, my mind astray,

and along comes a troop of Armadillidillidae.

Now I know this may sound silly-nilly,

But Nay!'Tis 'bout those Roly Polies and Bug Boy Billy.

Who doesn't love pill bugs when young-

'Cept did you know they eat dung?

Shoot 'em like marbles, baby bug balls-

Shoot-more fun than playing with dolls!

'Cuz things that are wild and that wiggle,

Always make children wonder and giggle.

So back to Bug Boy Billy, who likes his bikes;

had a Make Believe Shop where he'd fix trikes,

(Since even the most handiest of boys,

 use special tools that are really just toys)

And just the other day, as I already said,

A line appeared on the ground, a gray thread-

But it 'twas those same very Armadillidillidae,

crawling and millipeding in their buggy way,

Itching to make a pit stop

at Billy's infamous Trike Shop.

Billy told me they were in great despair-

For they had no bikes or trikes for repair.

This was precisely their pill bug problem,

they pleaded with him to make some-quite solemn...

Lo' they had no candy or gum they could pay -

but promised some privy perks anyway.

So Billy happily went right to work-

and he did so with a slight smirk.

When asked what he was doing-he shrugged and said, "Oh you know-

I'm just lettin' these roly polies help git my imagination back rollin’."

Image By Lewis Hine, 1874-1940, photographer. [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

Inventing opportunity

One day I'll make it.
I don't know what-but it will be good!
And
It will work-
                      all-It-self-out.
Making music together…
Hanging little notes on harmony…
It will sound like Peace.
And it will be the perfect
Temperate, the good-kind-
                       all-ways, Eden…
Forgive me, I was distracted There
Where was I?
You are Here needing a new map-
or the cartographers tools-precise
positively exacting.
Anyway-
It will have wide double swinging,
doors of Opportunity-
permitting construction, 
                         as I grow.
Blowing the tops off,
ripping off the roof to show how,
echoes only repeat mistakes
                          little people inside steeples.
Been there.
Without time for interior decorating or renovating-
                          just focus on the façade.
Inside is where it is, where is dwells-
                           I can move it-if I only knew
what it used to look like…
It is not finished-yet.
You see, I may never Be.
I'm missing a piece-
                          or more.
And
I forgot which door I was looking for.
Locked up next to Remember and Remorse,
one is painted Amber and the other Aquamarine.
And
after knocking all around I found-
Today was the day,
I was forgetful enough
to Fail.

Composed 4/23/15.

Image of Frederick Collins, Inventor, pictured with a "wireless telephony device" circa 1904. 



             

Medieval Party of Three

In medieval times it was believed that We
humans, that is, can be summed up by parts of three
not referring to the almighty trinity
they are the Rational, Sensitive, and Vegetative versions
of We, but you already knew
of this rational ability used as a harness
or you'd reasonably choose not to read this
a veritable, factual, brain food buffet
digesting and investing

The next part of us is perhaps a bit
of a stranger that cannot be trusted
just yet-leary of the sensitive side,
with shades of red, oft suppressed, sub-hued
for all its, weepy, sappy splendor, spontaneous
combustions of joy and rage,
kindled faith and love
sparks fly-implode
adoring and abhorring

Completing the homo erectus trifecta
the vegetative, it grows on you
strangling with seeds of sustenance
adding flavor, dashing zest and verve
sugar and spice, these are signs of life
wishing to be savored, simmered
leaves drink the energetic sun
emitting aromatic gasps and pants
devoured whole, after taste

Gathered together in trinity
the Rational, Sensitive, Vegetative me
are branches of our thinking tree
where experience is planted, knowledge nourishes
and ideas grow like weeds
the synergistic nature of threes
unbalanced teetering imagery
ideally revealed in poetry.


Image of painting by By Leopold Kupelwieser (1796-1862) (Diocese de Rouen) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons, 'Journey of Three Kings', c. 1825.