The Last Sonnet

Primavera (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

A month of poems posted daily could
Seem like success — a cause for celebration.
But no — I wasn't writing what I should,
These posts a paean to procrastination.
This sonnet marks a month of wasted time
I could have better spent composing prose.
I could have writ the one about the crime
Of hiding contraband inside one's nose;
The one about the man who lost his mind
When he discovered how to stop the din;
The one about the possum going blind;
The one about the girl with purple skin.

Alas, that time is lost. It's all gone by.
But I can write in May. (At least I'll try.)

God's Band

You think Clapton's God?
Everybody knows that God
Plays the clarinet.

A Walk in the Woods

I took a walk into the woods;
My walk became a sit.
The ancient bench was cracked and worn,
And green moss covered it.


My sit became a stay, my feet
Had sunk into the ground,
Rooted by the scented breeze
And nature's calming sound.

My stay became a stand, my back
Grew tall, my arms spread free.
I stood stock still beside that bench,
Became a stoic tree.

The sun rolled 'round, the decades passed,
And I stood stark and still
Through autumns, summers, winters, springs,
All alone until...

A woman walked into the woods
With sad and quiet grace.
The scented breeze curled through her hair
And brushed her gentle face.

She wandered to my glen and found
An old bench overgrown.
But still she sat. She stayed. She stood.
Now we are not alone.

View image | gettyimages.com

My Super Power

I leap no buildings, race no trains.
I use machines to fly.
I have no metal claws and shoot
No laser from my eye.

My brain has not been boosted by
Some alien device.
I burn if I touch fire and
I freeze if I touch ice.

A superhero I am not;
I'm made from mortal stuff.
I'm only father, man, and son,
But that should be enough.

Sad Piano

(Photo credit: Wikipedia)

This piano plays
Only in a minor key.
Art imitates life.

Who? What?

When I want strangers
To talk to me in the street,
I wear Doctor Who.

A Friday in Spring

 

The beige office walls
Shift into prison-cell gray:
A Friday in spring.

World Book Day

Photo by Bryan Rosengrant via Flickr

I've been to Iowa, New York,
And California, too.
I've seen Kilimanjaro and
Spent time in Xanadu.
I've wandered 'round Magrathea
Sipped wines in gay Par-ee,
And I have seen some brave new worlds
In Waldens one through three.
I've seen some horrors, too: the dark
Of Arkham, Panem's scars.
I've even seen the Earth explode
While standing safe on Mars.
Bursa, Turkey, wasn't nice --
I watched the city burn.
And what I found in Interzone
I never will unlearn.
I've been to Transylvania, where
The spawns of Satan dwell.
Been lost and scared in Wonderland...
I've even been the Hell.
I've roamed through places few have seen,
Like Oz, Tralfamadore,
Minas Tirith, Hogwarts, Xanth,
Asgaard and Yavin IV.
I've been down deep beneath the ground
And deep in outer space,
And if we'd only find the time
We could go anyplace.
It doesn't take a passport or
To win the lottery.
You only need a novel and
The local library.

Springtime Weather in Indiana

Image from the Herald Times

When springtime comes to my hometown
The weather never settles down.
The temperatures here fluctuate
From 26 to 98,
So one day we'll get snow and sleet;
The next we'll have a hellish heat.

This constant change is hard to bear
Because we don't know what to wear.
Forecasts clash, and so it goes,
We flip a coin to choose our clothes.
That's why you'll find at outdoor sports
Boys in winter coats and shorts.

Not to say that I'm complaining
(Except on days of nonstop raining),
But springtime weather's quite a bummer.
Still, it ain't as bad as summer.

Octopuses, or octopodes

No one ever asks
If the plural form of squid
Is squad or squidoo.

4/20

Today is 4/20, a pot celebration,
And if you might wonder if I feel the need,
Examine my gut. There's but one explanation:
I get the munchies without smoking weed.

Weekends Are...

English: Carousel slide projector. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Weekends are so short
Compared with a slide show by
Your mother-in-law.

Late-night Television

English: Animation of a T.V. set. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Gynecomastia, miracle ear,

A hose that will shrink down to store out of sight,

Bladders in slings and in meshes gone wrong:

This is TV on a Saturday night

Parenting

Photo credit: Wikipedia

The truth snuck up on me unseen:
My son is becoming a teen.
I asked him to shout
What I should write about.
"Death" he said with moody mien.

The Joy of Victory

The energy comes in a rush,
And I feel my cheeks starting to flush.
I jump from my seat
'Cause I finally beat
That tough level on Candy Crush.

Brake Work

Photo by Interiot via Flickr.

It's a stressful day for me indeed,
Having to pick the more important need:
A home with 'lectricity through and through,
Or a car that will stop when I need it to.
The choice is tough, but I've got to call it,
And either way I'm left with an empty wallet.

(There is a little hyperbole here,
but not enough to assuage my fear.)

An earlobe. Yes, an earlobe.

I asked a group of my friends to give me a topic for a poem, and someone shouted "earlobes!"

So, here. A haiku about earlobes.

Pierced earlobe (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

A thin velvet fuzz
O'er a soft, holey pillow:
Kissable earlobe.

The Week

Sunday: Clouds begin to build,
The gloom of what's to come.
Monday: All that gloom rains down.
Tuesday: Get things done.
Wednesday: Struggle past the hump.
Thursday: Make the call.
Friday: Staring down the clock.
Saturday: Shortest of all.

Spring Is Announced

(Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Spring is announced by
The rumblings that level lawns:
The first yard-mowing.

So Many Shoes

Image by Jasmine, via Flickr

Sandals, loafers, sneakers, and boots,
Oxfords, galoshes and clogs,
Mary Janes, mules, clodhoppers and kicks,
Shitkickers, slippers and togs,

Stilettos (stiletti?), cross-trainers, sabot,
All of them are pretty neat —
Not so much on your hands or your head,
But when they are down on your feet.

Two Meta-Haiku

A well-writ haiku
Has seventeen syllables
And something else, too.

They say a haiku
Shouldn't have a rhyme, but you
can write some that do.

The Funnyman

A funnyman who had once clocked
Many hours but found himself blocked
Threw his pen in dejection —
It pierced his erection,
And now all his jokes are half-cocked.


"Leonid Pasternak - The Passion of creation" by Leonid Pasternak. Licensed under Public Domain via Wikimedia Commons.

A Crossover Haiku

I've tried to find out where this original haikuless wallpaper came from in order to give proper credit. It looks like it was put out by Industrial Light and Magic (earning ILM beau coup brownie points if it's true), but if anyone knows differently, please let me know.

A Lunch Alone

Photo : Guian Bolisay / Flickr

I take my lunch alone, but all around,
Sighs and statements, grunts and grumbles fill
The room with life and lives and loves and sound
The way that raucous, joyous humans will.
The waitress takes my order, walks away,
And silently I catalogue the room:
A mother and young daughter have a day;
Some teenage boys conspire, plotting doom;
Four siblings argue their sick father's fate;
And lovers clasp each other's hands and smile.
But not one comprehends what they create
By sharing daily love. And all the while —

Across from me there stands a chair,
Conspicuous with no one there.

A Late Prompt from a Great Event

Tonight's Indy WordLab could not have come at a better time for me, restoring some confidence in myself and a bit more hope into my outlook. (If you read tomorrow's poem, you'll get an idea of the pit I had fallen into.)

The prompt Allison Lynn presented us with was to write a story that involves choosing a gift for someone. The only restriction was that the main character could not be looking for a gift for himself or herself — part of the conflict comes from trying to figure out the other person.

If you're looking for a late-night writing prompt, try this one. It turned into something worth finishing for me.

Chainsaw

A chainsaw is a wondrous tool
For cutting down a tree.
It saves you time and effort
To a marvelous degree.

But when you pull that loud thing out
I've just one thing to ask:
Consider that it's not the time
To wear your hockey mask.

ChainSaw (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Ode to a Blueberry Muffin

I love you with coffee,
I love you with tea,
I love that you're so very yummy.
Don't care if you're iced,
Topped with crumbles, or bare
As long as you get in my tummy.

April Fourth

The sun shone bright when Martin died —
A shot, then he was gone.
A voice of love was silenced — still,
The sun keeps shining on.

April Showers

English: Drops of rain Français : Gouttes de pluie (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Yes, I whine about rain, but I know
It takes showers to make flowers grow.
Though the weather's a pain
When we get naught but rain,
At least it ain't hail, sleet, or snow.

The Possum

The boy found the possum in the middle of the country road.
Though he had never seen one, he had heard about the possum,
about how, when it was scared or anxious or worried,
it just curled up and turned off,
dead to the world.
And only the possum knew for sure whether it was alive.

April Fool's Poem

Today I start my month of poetry in celebration of National Poetry Month with a haiku.