Archive # 15


Somewhere in the deep
recesses of my brain, sleep
forgotten haikus.
tanka haiku: The Twenties; when men
still swam in tanktops and the
women bobbed their hair.
    Both drank ‘bootleg hootch’, while young
    flappers danced to jazz rhythms.
Our paths never crossed,
Alas, they only entwined.
How did we get here?
She whispered to him,
‘I’ll fulfill all your dreams …’, But
he’d dreamt of Pirates.
Siamese twins are
conjoined. Why are Siamese
kittens just confused?
On the old man’s slacks,
surviving countless washings;
sticky store labels.
Goin’ down the road,
to that shack across the tracks
where love is hiding.
A glass of ice cubes
a pitcher of lemonade
who hid the vodka?
An angel’s blessing,
cleanses souls and awakens
hearts to receive love.
Words do not always
mean what we think, sometimes we
mis-read intentions.
Silver icicles,
drip from Christmas tree branches,
teasing the kittens.
Calling your version,
‘the truth’ only means you call
your opinions, ‘truth.’
We reap what we sow,
sew what we rip, and never
Mark Twain shall we meet.
Anguish and remorse
when embraced by solitude,
will shed bitter tears.
The beauty of Life;
On rare occasions, it will
approach perfection.
Willful solitude,
exacerbates loneliness.
Breathe the city air.
An empty teacup
perched on a piano stool
still can’t play “Chopsticks”.
We may not agree,
but I understand your fears
and hope you’re okay.
Back to work today
after a restful week off.
Where do I begin?
Judging from sales stats,
you might never imagine
Santa employed elves.
Snow days filled with fun,
sledding down my neighbor’s hill.
crashing into trees.
The teenager asked,
‘Why are naps so important?’
His grandfather laughed.
This Saturday morn,
the sun’s out, the sky is blue
I’m still missing you.
He took his sweet time
opening the envelope,
building the suspense.
Alas, we live in
a linear existence;
the Past IS prologue.
Bayberry candles,
in the windows, pine needles
on the parlor floor.
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