Category: My Poetry & Fiction

Wind
precludes
the silence
which sits waiting
at the edge of things,
off in the forest, there,
down by the surging waters,
where the eagle crouches, watching,
and no one awaits nothing but time.

– a reverse nonet.

some survivalists
surveyed their situations
and gazed at the sky

– a pseudo-haiku.

Hi, narrator here.
Please disregard these meanings.
The words stand alone.

– a pseudo-haiku.

ㅁ
Firstly, we gazed askance at the spaceship
Plunging wild through the grim-faced sky.
Flares were winking on a trailing wingtip
Where a faded emblem seemed to fly.

Secondly, speakers sung with the voices
Screaming out dangers and proffering choices,
Hinting at various important things.
Dark was the mood then, beshadowed by wings.

Thirdly, our leaders emptied the city.
Multitudes fled to the sun-tortured hills,
Some of them starving while others sold pills
Which the wounded endured. Such a pity.

Endless miseries kept ensuing -
Doubts, above all. What were we doing?

– a sonnet in an irregular tetrameter (maybe).

ㅁ
a desolation
can unfold in a moment
unexpectedly

– a pseudo-haiku.

I detached my soul,
let it float for a few hours,
tasted the trees' roots.

– a pseudo-haiku.

ㅁ
the day's first two hours -
when I sit, have some coffee -
those reassure me

– a pseudo-haiku.

ㅁ
The thought climbs up astride its weary mount
  To better seek and target its intents,
  Infecting other minds like airbourne scents -
A viral dream where every glance will count.
A prophet then, I forge through these events,
  Betraying with my words their very fount
  And caring not at all - who could discount?
You see them, now, such cloudy, cool portents.
Let's undertake to rule the world's wide mind
  By sending out that energetic thought:
Its consequences gradually unwind.
And finally, behold what thinking wrought:
  Baroque descriptions seemingly designed
To lift a universe up out from nought.

– a sonnet in iambic pentameter.

the fog blanked it all,
and white water, white mountain
only existed

– a pseudo-haiku.

that rooster's crowing
seems too enthusiastic
when at four thirty

– a pseudo-haiku.

the daily listing
a mere enumeration
tree plus tree plus tree

– a pseudo-haiku.

art reveals nothing.
it's not projection, instead:
an alternate self

– a pseudo-haiku.

the water is still
but a dull dog is barking
some bird gave notice

– a pseudo-haiku.

The types of darkness are manifold:
firstly, before the big bang's boom;
secondly, the night's blackness;
thirdly, shadows of doubt;
also, underground;
next, when dying;
there's holes, too;
and caves;
last...

– a pseudo-haiku.

day comes in fragments
leaking out of the spaces
in the atmosphere

– a pseudo-haiku.

the fog over there
fraternizes with the shrubs
while the sun's hiding

– a pseudo-haiku.

a tree entails a gentle growing
a tree elides the sky above
a tree betokens time's dull flowing
a tree rejects the earth's cold love

a tree observes the moon's redundant
a tree points out the sun's abundant
a tree explores the air's canals
a tree will fail to show morale

a tree creates its own committees
a tree can drink the dreams of clouds
a tree provides the beasts their shrouds
a tree dislikes the teeming cities

a tree neglects its own biology
a tree reviews epistemology

– a sonnet in iambic pentameter.

clockwork universe:
it winds sideways, not forwards:
illusory time.

– a pseudo-haiku.

The children argued
and spun through the corridors.
Outside the sun shone.

– a pseudo-haiku.

omphaloskeptic
autobiographical
communication

– a pseudo-haiku.

dots on the water
ducks floating in formation
and diving for snacks

– a pseudo-haiku.

A part of every day just writing:
The sky is gray and raindrops hang;
How is a life like this exciting?
Oh wait, a bird unseen just sang.

Unfinished tasks remain regretted;
So forests' moods persist, abetted.
And still a thought will come along:
No fish will come; no time is wrong.

Despairing then, perhaps I wondered...
Preparing rows of trees or words
On paper or on wings of birds-
Exactly ten times, by a hundred -

Momentous thoughts and aimless streams
Suspend what's real. Behold the dreams.

– a sonnet in iambic pentameter.

That maze of highways wound around points,
demarcating geographies
and perpetuating myths
with a singular goal
which is foreordained:
to indicate
where our deeds
become
words.

– a nonnet.

Bits of time slip past
unused and unusable:
snow on the still beach

– a pseudo-haiku.

some snow on branches
gives the birds their new topic
spring comes, stuttering

– a pseudo-haiku

birds
announce
intentions
in coded ways
that might just reveal
eligibility
for springtime relationships
with other birds known and unknown
who might be lurking in nearby trees.

– a reverse nonnet.

the rain's broad, pattering sounds
reverberate, and wind blinds
the trees, hiding their deep wounds
with grasping earth at roots' ends.

– some kind of englyn, but I can’t figure out which.

ㅁ
in lines of glass or wood or concrete
horizons drawn in golds and blacks
a grid, a geographic spreadsheet
dead trees on hills like painted cracks

the cityscape reveals confusion
amid its planless, hot profusion
of means of movement, high and low
of will to commerce, fast and slow

the hearts of people all inventing
a way to make their neighbors slaves
or if not that, then find their graves
and likewise... stepwise... too preventing

our nature's hoped-for forceful claim
against our blind hubristic shame

– a sonnet in a defective iambic tetrameter.

ㅁ
The equinox past,
the light lingers, delinquent.
Soon: summer's solstice.

– a pseudo-haiku.

ㅁ
the future arrives
each day as if coming home
while the past decamps

– a pseudo-haiku.

ㅁ
when waiting, small things
slide by oddly unnoticed
the wind pushes by

– a pseudo-haiku.

ㅁ
the atoms around
tumble and collide with me
but I am too big

– a pseudo-haiku.