Courageous Cat (and Other Haikus)

Dusty

I glide my finger

across the dusty table

drawing a clean line.

 

Night Light

The beacon of light

in the deep sea of darkness

guides me to the loo.

 

Watchers

The empty-eyed doll

stares at me from the counter

as I sit and write.

 

Mouth Washed

The taste of hand soap

scrapes like sand against my tongue

to expunge the dirt.

 

Courageous Cat

Sparked by adventure,

he journeys into my room,

then bolts when I move.

——

 

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FIFTY WORD STORY – First Kiss

It starts with a spark on the lips, quickening like kindling in a dry brush. The heartbeat runs as fast as it can, but one by one the synapses catch fire, until one is engulfed it in the wave of heat. Yet they see only the blush and a smile.

——

 

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Valentine’s Dog (and Other Haikus)

Mental

Whispers on the wind

slip between cracks in the walls

of my worn ego.

 

Melted Chocolate

The metal foil

smooshes inside my pocket,

covering my key.

 

Cut

A relic, like rust,

carved in red against the curves

of my forefinger.

 

Old Books

The dusty bindings

remind me of the journeys

the characters lived.

 

Valentine’s Dog

He nuzzles my knee

as a request to join me

on the Netflix couch.

——

 

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LOVE POEM #130 – Second Date

Second Date

 

I like to see the sky blossom

from the hood of your Cadillac,

like a cup of orange gold was spilled

when the sun sank into the sea.

 

The jets trail their falling star

spewing cascades of fine vapor

like a curtain spread over the coast

or a waterfall tipped on its side.

——

 

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FIFTY WORD STORY – Dryad’s Song

The voice hung in the air like a leaf, drifting over fields of grass until it landed in Arin’s ears like a whisper. He turned to the trees to see who had spoken the wooden song, but the forest of bark held no mouths—only the faint outline of bodies.

——

 

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Caesar at the Rubicon – A Poem

Caesar at the Rubicon

 

I wonder if Caesar felt pride

behind the lines of his falcon eyes

as his phalanx crossed the Rubicon

into the open plains of Italy.

 

Did he picture a neo-Aeneas

imbued by the glory of Poseidon?

One who would stayed the winds of Aeolus

as his crew sailed into Carthage?

 

Or perhaps as he mounted his horse

he thought of the stable boys

unable to escape the fires of Troy

‘cause Paris wouldn’t relinquish his lust;

 

and as he cast his steel dice

he felt bound to the empty bellies

of the half-buried families

he had left behind in the Gallics

 

instead of those empty oaths

spat from gluttonous orifices

by the wine-soaked Republicans

seated in their golden high chairs.

——

 

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FIFTY WORD STORY – Dragon’s Eye

The blade was made of fine steel. The hilt was inlaid with gold, and the guard embedded with a myriad of colorful stones. A massive ruby, inset in the pommel, glowed so bright that the sword was named Dragon’s Eye. Yet as the battle wore on, the Eye fell, blinded.

——

 

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Cats Playing (and Other Haikus)

Low on Time

The clock’s hands spiral

ever faster, ‘til I look

and find I am late.

 

Corked

I feel the cork

straining under my pressure;

threatening to burst.

 

Midnight Biking

In the darkness, holes

look as much like sturdy ground

as a smooth highway.

 

Frozen Food

My head bobs around

to the subtle hum of heat

seeping into food.

 

Cats Playing

They thunder about

from the sofa to the chairs

as we try to sleep.

——

 

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Finger Tapping – A Poem

Finger Tapping

 

like rolling waves from the white shores

of index to the rocky pinky.

 

like drum beats far in the distance

without the thunderous clash of cymbals,

 

or like a wish for guitar strings

plucked by hands too weary for music.

——

 

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LOVE POEM #128 – A Familiar Face

A Familiar Face

 

I thought I had seen

her face

 

in between recess

and graduation

 

jaywalking across

the street

 

as the sun sank behind

the station.

——

 

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