Haikus from Traffic

Brake Light

Blinky red asses
Off and on the grey freeway,
Little metal ‘flys

Super Car

Idle, unable, still-
Power now waits motionless:
All twelve horses wait

Fork

When is a boulevard
actually an avenue
to the road on which
a street becomes
the lane I shortcut
via the back alley?

Maybe I should
perform a u-turn?
What I mean is:
why are the signs
never clear until after
you’ve driven down
the parkway to brake
on the driveway?

Hang on…

is it left or right?

I need some clear directions
because I haven’t a thru
notion how to unfold
the GPS and ask Siri
which route leads to
life’s interstate highway.

Or perhaps I’ll just
stay on the service road?

Actually, I’ve paid the tolls
I’ve heard were due
and (now that I’m able)
I’ll cruise along the freeway
and hopefully I’ll not miss
my exit to what’s next.

Shiver My Timbers

I shiver my timbers
In the sudden warmth of March
Lockstep
Towards the twelfth dread
Another spin around the drain
maelstrom’s fire scorching space

I fancy myself piratical
adrift, now making sail
Heaving to galactic destiny
Shanghaied
The siren sings of emancipation
Unlocking the depths

Yo oh heave ho
Haul anchors away
Into scarlet skies at night
Spinning yarns that couldn’t be told
Jones’ bones are allowed to speak
Dead man no more

Not all treasure
Is silvers of steel drenched
In blood
Pulled from beating hearts
Salty breezes sweep
Hearts high on sea swells

I have seen…

I have seen shredded vapor
pulled back across skies bursting
into flames. Orange burning pink
and purple smoke dousing all
into blackened night.

I have seen stars bursting forth
into fiery array from solar systems
distant and galaxies far
from our own smoldering world.

Night flowers shower
aromas gentle, deep and sweet
which drift me off to sleep.

Jack

Jack

A little light flickers
(behind triangle eyes)
in the ghoulish grin.
He illumes the pumpkin patch,
beck’ning little ghosts home.

He promises cocoa morsels
(and hot apple cider)
for little witches and zombies –
child monsters of the night!

They throng through corn fields
and down golden avenues,
entreating against tricks.

A Few Poems

In a bout of creativity, I wrote a few poems. I thought I would share them with the world.

First of all, a tribute poem, in free verse, about the death of AOL Instant Messenger, a program I used for many years at the beginning of the internet, in the long ago times, to chat with friends and family. Just today it was announced that AOL has shut down the service. Wow. Never thought I would see the day.

AIM

Little yellow person
Running ’round the world
Connecting…
Me to you to her to him
To talk
Life, and everything.
Until the twenty year rotation
Killed the connections
In favor of more tenuous tendrils:
Texts and time for faces
Time to run no more.
Rest in the graveyard
Of future things.
Did you leave an away
Message: R U there?

Next up is a little poem contemplating nuclear holocaust. It came to me in a moment at work the other day as I was watching a bubble of water skim across the dishwasher surface. After a brief moment, it suddenly popped, and there was a miniature shockwave that rippled across the water beneath. I live in fear that our stupid president might attack North Korea and start a nuclear war and no one will have the guts to stop him. A silly fear perhaps, but there it is. Here is my poem, also in free verse.

Push the Button

One should not
Push the button
Until one has under
Stood
The cataclysmic collapse
Of a water bubble

Finally there is a poem about the dignity of manual labor. Usually I don’t go in for that sort of thing, but as I was mopping the floor at work the other day it struck me that there is dignity in accepting what we have to do in the current moment and doing it to the best of our ability. As I said, I don’t think manual labor in and of itself imparts dignity or creates a work ethic that is worth anything, but I do think that doing one’s task well is worth, well, something. For better or worth, here is that free verse poem.


Quiet Dignity

Quiet dignity resides within
Back and forth
Back and forth
Simple mop and motion
Back and forth
Back and forth
Sweeping away yesterday’s
Crumbs and beet blood stains
Back and forth
Forth and back
For a change of rhythm
And pacing
Back and forth
Back and forth
Fan dries clean floors
The blades whir
Back and forth
Back and forth