Haiku
Seasons
“Under White Powder:
A Shovel Conspiracy” –
Read it on Snow Days.
My sump pump has died
Push the water myself but
Slips thru my fingers.
Lilac and Ozone
Compete for Best Aroma
After the rain falls.
I like the gray skies
Love it when the flora dies:
No more work to do.
Love on the Beach
Hot summer beach
We walk, massaging the sand
Stuck between our toes
Hot summer night with
Pictures shared in the twilight
Warm air slows them down
Where have you gone, you?
Changing from your sweaty clothes,
Naked self exposed
Moonlight and the stars
Wrap you and protect you so
Beach blanket of love.
Sunday
Untold poetry
Is the driver of all things
Go ahead, try to think!
We both had a thought
See you on the other side
Best to share a drink.
Her
And she writes stories:
Sometimes they are the true ones
With their own glory
And sometimes, they are
Like beautiful movies, but
Never seen before.
Fitchburg
its houses, its hills
and a river runs through it
lovingly quiet
a rock of ages
broken, then fixed up again
finally at home
sidewalks with rainbows
painters, and poets who sing
art on every block
drinkers and smokers
university tokers
living and loving.
Sonnets
Falling in Love
Without a second thought nor hesitation,
My darling started speaking of our future.
Before only a wink, a fun flirtation,
Till now a stolen touch and secret whisper.
She showered me with pictures drawn so clear,
With music sung before me filled with symmetry,
She showed me all that heaven held so dear,
And spoke to me of love wrapped up in poetry:
“Dear, come with me, enjoy the pretty flowers,
The ones with perfume sprinkled by the rain,
The proudest ones that show off all their colors,
A romance for us sweet as sugar cane.”
But little did she know I walked before her
Already sending kisses in my dreams.
Into Fall
Lay with me and watch the setting sun
Hug the daisies where they love to grow
Let our feet be naked for some fun
And let the grass be tickled with a toe.
Touch me if my mind has raised the sails
Pinch me if you find me not awake
Grassy slumber now my favorite pose
The clouds a trip, a carpet I must take.
But Fall is in the air, I can feel it
Blowing in the wind and in our hair
Summer dreams will have to go to sleep now
Pour me a drink of something warm and tender.
Hold onto our love and build a fire
We’ll keep the cold at bay with our desire.
My Type
With pen in hand, or maybe just a mouse,
I sit and ponder what I would write next.
I strive to capture love that fills my house,
Or maybe just some masquerading text.
For what would satisfy the bards of old
If never they could feel the fun of fonts,
As they go marching, italics and bold,
Across the keys, my fingers’ favorite haunts.
Their labors served them well, for here I sit,
Their future scribe pretending what I do
Comes barely close to matching their keen wit,
Tho wealthy with cut, copy, paste, undo.
Appreciation grows with every word
And every sonnet that I’ve ever heard.