Cat Asking for Food (and Other Haikus)

Mother and Child

The wooden figure

immortalizing their love

slants off to the left.

 

Project Planning

Tomorrow I’ll start

planting my tulip garden

if the weather holds.

 

Half-Finished Projects

Tools stacked to the side

and a doorway with no door

both gathering dust.

 

Rope Swing

Out over the lake,

suspended in the pine air

waiting for the fall.

 

Cat Asking for Food

You scratched the table,

crying for my attention

to fill up your bowl.

——

 

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MUSIC SERIES – Eyes Closed

This poem was inspired by Strawberry Fields Forever by The Beatles. Let me know what songs you think I should write a poem about!

 

Eyes Closed

 

Sitting in the strawberry fields

trying to recreate a simple dream

while the sound of a tractor tilling

at the stony winter soil

covers the distant song of the birds.

 

I can almost see myself on the branches

sitting next to them with my legs hanging;

looking across the small acre of land

at this stranger perched on a shrunken log

with his eyes closed, staring at nothing.

——

 

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The Days Are Just Packed

The Days Are Just Packed

 

It’s like a Calvin and Hobbes comic

crawled out from the panes of the pages

and onto the rugs of my living room

just to enjoy its afternoon nap.

 

Maybe that’s what Bill Watterson understood.

That from the irony of free time

comes the iron shackles of inactivity

which chains us to the floor of our potential

 

and then when we try to pick ourselves up

the weight of our regrets pulls us back

onto the pillowy sameness of familiarity,

snuggled in tightly with my stuffed tiger.

——

 

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Cat Walk (and Other Haikus)

In the Closet

Hiding in the dark

beneath the tear-stained dresses

that dried her red eyes.

 

Nudity

It was like fine art

watching him parade around

in his ankle socks.

 

Fortnite

It took two long weeks

to pry his wired fingers

from their controller.

 

Bathing

I sank to my nose

in the warm palm of water

that held me softly.

 

Cat Walk

She walks the thin line

along the back of the couch

in her black fur dress.

——

 

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Stick Figures

There isn’t very much to them.

A circle, a vertical line, and

a two pairs of diagonals

for some added flavor.

 

If you really liked them, you might

draw in a couple dots for eyes,

a lightly curved “L” for a nose,

and a slow, slothful “U” for a smile.

 

You may even scratch out the head

and replace it with a square

to make the robotic servant

that you always dreamed about.

 

And if they ever tried to tease you

you could toss their treason

onto the pile in the trash can

where they couldn’t hurt you

like the rest.

——

 

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Some Kind of Superman

Sometimes I wish I was the superhero

that my family thinks I am:

draped in a divine red cape

with the symbol of hope embroidered on my chest.

 

I would wake up with a cup of coffee

that I heated with my own two eyes

ready to take on the next towering villain

that planned to topple everything that was good.

 

And when I redonned the black-framed glasses

of the mild mannered, bulletproof man

I wouldn’t be worrying about the mortgage

any more than I worried about the moon rising at night.

——

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CAT DREAMS (AND OTHER HAIKUS)

The Dark Side

In the sunshine

the silhouette of his spite

hide in shadowed grins.

 

Hot Night

Tossing and turning

in blankets, like a slow roast

for a shish kebab.

 

Flashbacks

These shuddering eyes

show the reminder of eves

in shattered glass frames.

 

Through the Woods

Down the winding road,

I came across a flower

mourning its bare patch.

 

Cat Dreams

Curled on my knee,

the cat kneads the brown blanket

in his kitten dream.

——

 

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This is the poem i wrote in eight minutes.

This is the poem I wrote in eight minutes.

 

It probably didn’t hit home as hard as I had hoped.

The stanzas are haggard and heavy,

but the lines are as hollow

as a hanging tree’s moral code.

 

The poem itself was swallowed

in the cesspool of modern scholarship

where the student ponders bad textbooks

and the teachers teach to a code.

 

“It’s all about the A to Z,”

is what the fedora-wearer said to me,

standing at the head of class

by his chalkboard learning scheme.

 

A will get you in the academy

and Z will zip you away

with a ten-thousand dollar piece of paper

and a square cap to put on display.

 

It’s too bad those two letters

can’t sandwich my life together

like the pieces of wonder bread

I ate on the way to school.

——

 

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FETCHING – FIFTY WORD STORY

The ball goes up, the ball comes down—over and over, until I am seated watching his one-ball juggling act. Then, he reels back and hurls it across the yard. It bounces once, twice…and just before it hits the ground, I nab it, though I never felt myself get up.

——

 

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BEAT

Beat

 

I am lying in the dark

with a hand held over my heart

listening to the heavy thud

of blood pumping through my veins,

 

and the beat seems to blister

as the blackened air grows thicker

in this hollow veil of smoke

that cloaks my body from pain.

 

Still I wonder about the chains.

The stains that silence the soul,

dragging behind the cinder

like the cross behind a sinner.

——

 

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