Awaiting Pets (and Other Haikus)

Through the Window

They will never know

that I saw them together

sitting on the grass.

 

Behind Schedule

Even now the clock

seems to be drifting faster

than I can keep up—

 

Night Terrors

Their shifting outlines

stand, staring in the window,

just beyond the light.

 

Editing

Pressing a pencil

against a piece of paper

changes don’t to do.

 

Awaiting Pets

He came to my leg,

leaning just beneath my hand,

and looked in my eyes.

——

 

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MUSIC SERIES – Listening Beneath the Spruce Tree

Hey there! This poem was inspired by And the Waltz Goes On, composed by Anthony Hopkins, performed by Andre Rieu. Got a song you would like to see me write about? Let me know!

 

Listening Beneath the Spruce Tree

I stepped through a shadowed world

with soft, ever quickening strides

while the echoing songs of spring

sprouted from the leaves of saplings.

 

The winds swayed beneath the spruce tree;

my eyes filled with a somber sleep,

yet I could still hear you singing

those whispers of serenity.

——

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LOVE POEM #100 – Greed

WOW! 100 love poems! Someone bring out the party blowers! Thanks for all your support everyone. Lets wrap up this mini series I’ve been doing for the 7 Sins with my favorite (least favorite?) sin: Greed.

 

Greed

 

An eager glint in those green eyes

glows like the Elysian Fields,

yet as they gleam in the eve’s light

my own glimmer evaporates.

 

Check out all the other sins here: Sloth, Lust, Envy, Wrath, Gluttony, Pride.

Oh, and hopefully it goes without saying, but all of these poems are about the bad parts of love and romance, which is both beautiful and terrible. They represent a kind of abuse, or abuses, and while I’ve somewhat romanticized them, or poeticized them, that is for emphasis, and not because they are good or positive.

——

 

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FIFTY WORD STORY – A Path Diverged

It was at the fork in the road that I left them behind. They found the foliage too indistinct; too indecisive, while I thought the western road was more deserving. The autumn leaves rolled through the wind as I trod that path, and they waited for someone better to come.

——

 

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Soccer Dog (and Other Haikus)

Cheering – Body

Hands banging metal,

like a chorus of drummers

beating on the stands.

 

Cheering – Breath

The voices cry out,

swelling over the field

like a rising wind.

 

Commercial Break

Despite the colors,

all I hear are white noises

saying to buy more.

 

Bad Calls

I can taste the blood

leaking from between my lips,

yet play continued.

 

Soccer Dog

My cry of despair,

followed shortly by a howl

from the seat by me.

——

 

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MUSIC SERIES – Passing Through

Hi there! This poem was inspired by Breakdown by Jack Johnson. Let me know if there are any songs you think I should write about!

Passing Through

 

Billows of smoke blow through the trees

as the train snakes along the tracks,

and staring out the thin window

I wonder whether the return

 

will hold the quiet mysticism

as these thick, mist-laden branches

or if, after we have passed on,

the breeze will coax away the chills.

——

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LOVE POEM #99 – Sloth

Sloth

 

Time passed and I forgot to write.

Despite the distance between us,

lifting that pen was as draining

as waking from a dream alone.

 

Read the other sins (so far): Lust, Envy, Wrath, Gluttony, Pride.

——

 

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FIFTY WORD STORY – Aile Goes Walking

With the thin mist clawing at his feet like tendrils, and the morning dew sliding beneath his toes like wet cubes of ice, Aile could not have been happier. His steps were light and full of air, and he felt they were like wings, flying him to his distant destination.

——

 

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Firework Dog (and Other Haikus)

Birthday

Firework displays

crest over the cool darkness

in celebration.

 

After Party

After the smoke passed,

the stars had a hazy glow

like they were in thought.

 

Headache

Waking up, pounding,

to the pain of pots and pans

banging on the floor.

 

Parade

The little girl stares

and the parade saunters by

awestruck and silent.

 

Firework Dog

Unlike his brothers,

the little dog watched the lights

without fear or sound.

——

 

Hello there!

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MUSIC SERIES – The Smoke Shop

This poem was inspired by Have a Cigar by Pink Floyd. Let me know if there’s any songs you think I should write about!

 

The Smoke Shop

 

Built in the mid-seventies by locals,

the cigar shop, which was then run by Floyd,

has been seedy since it changed ownership

and began stocking slimmer cigarettes.

 

Seduced by the cheap, efficient menthols,

the racks of rolling paper were replaced

by these individual plastic packs

of factory cut tobacco product.

 

No more do we see their lumpy cigars,

passed between the loving hands of groupies,

nor taste that first lyrical inhale

that wove a shadowed lore into the smoke.

Hello there!

 

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