Common Threads

 NyQuil Haiku

Thank God for NyQjuil

It was my sleep’s saving grace

Now to face the day…..

 

Bird Rhapsody Haiku 

Tower of Babel

in the forest this morning 

blissful bird babble 

all different calls 

chirps, tweets, chitters and chatters diverse winged chorus

birds of a feather 

birds of another feather 

sing in one accord 

an off-key whistle 

joins in this festive glee club 

a Barney Fife bird! 

“Peter, Peter,” from

Tufted Titmouse sopranos 

fully robed in joy 

“Pretty Bird,” trill the 

cardinal tenors singing 

praises to the King

alto mockingbirds 

impersonate all species 

universal chords  

one bass frog croaks out 

clearly too early for him 

his disdain is heard

morning rhapsody

performed from overhead pines 

free back porch ticket 

if birds can figure 

out how to sing with all kinds 

why, oh why can’t we?

Regrets

its idyllic charm 

lures spellbound landseekers 

with lush flora 

and trickling creeks 

like a siren enchants sailors, 

her long hair 

distracting 

with her 

naked beauty 

   the maelstrom 

              churning 

                      beyond 

then when beauty transforms 

as Scylla

and Charybdis

daughters who sought what wasn’t theirs

the ugly truth springs forth:

a father regrets a farm

there is such a thing 

as cursed land 

where the ghosts of soldiers 

still battle 

just as those 

who still dwell there

 

Wrestling Writing Haiku 

I’m not feeling it

  so I’m not writing today!

Back to bed I go.

No inspiration – 

  my fairy lights don’t sparkle.

My prompt well ran dry. 

No motivation – 

  my brain feels tired and lazy.

I’d rather not think.

I’m not feeling it

  so I’m not writing today!

Back to bed I go.

I’m capping my pen –

  no need to waste any ink

when words just won’t come.

I’m closing my book – 

  keeping journal pages blank

for another day.

I’m not feeling it

  so I’m not writing today!

Back to bed I go.

I pull back the sheets

  to settle back in the warmth

and turn off my thoughts.

But they’re not water.

  They don’t stop with a knob twist.

They keep on flowing.

I’m feeling awake.

  I can’t go back to sleep now.

I need to get up. 

Leaky thought plumber?

  There’s no such miracle fix –

My brain mouth won’t hush. 

A conversation

  between me, myself, and I 

is unstoppable.

I’m feeling awake.

  I can’t go back to sleep now.

I need to get up. 

The struggle is real.

  Inspiration comes in the 

unlikeliest ways. 

….uncapping my pen 

  ….opening my journal page

and the ink now flows……

I’m writing today.

  I tried to wrestle writing

…it unrested me. 

 

Morning Celebrity

A morning 

sofa celebrity 

never sits in peace 

drinking coffee 

checking email 

posting blogs 

admirers relentlessly 

throw themselves 

      at her feet 

beg for attention 

whine for affection

paw at her arms 

drape themselves 

     over her shoulders 

she crinkles paper 

they freeze

ears perk up 

eyes scope hers 

eyebrows raise

    in a question mark

      of anticipation

tails wag like 

    cautious stalkers 

they wait

    for her to make a move 

finally

a biscuit for each 

sends the paparazzi pets 

off to remote locations 

to eat their treats 

in peace

 

Storyteller’s Peace 

you were king 

of the Zoo Crew – 

the wildest of the 

nicknamed,

t-shirt-sporting 

high school 

Animal House gang

of the 1980s 

every teacher dreaded

you were class clown 

you drive me to school 

once in your 2-door

running Eddie Palmer on foot 

up against a chain-link fence 

further taunting 

an already troubled kid 

who held up a bank 

through bullet proof glass 

a few years later 

you were a bully 

you said you’d gone 

in the store at the circle

for a pack of cigarettes 

and left your car running 

but heard the click 

of the pistol 

against your head 

the minute your 

barefoot butt

hit the seat 

to drive away – 

your abductor 

behind you –

and everyone tried 

to believe you 

but no one ever could 

you were a storyteller 

so many holes 

in your tales 

but the marriage 

was a cruel front –

a good friendship 

that went past a first kiss 

and trapped you 

in a world of walls 

you couldn’t escape 

you never came out 

            but we always knew 

in the end

     a storyteller

         finds peace 

 

Roll With It

I fell out of some of

the trees I climbed 

as a kid in the ‘70s

and also off one roof.

I slammed my finger 

in a car door,

was thrown off a horse,

and was hit

by a car 

and lived.

My mama missed 

the squirrel and 

ricochet-shot me 

when I swung between 

her and the

moving target. 

I also got my ass beat 

when I deserved it

and I learned to move on. 

So thank God I don’t 

require the use 

of a bidet 

at every sitting 

for a too-tender tush. 

I wouldn’t want to be 

one of those 

Princess-and-the-Pea types

whose world 

falls apart 

over 

cheap toilet paper. 

 

Whispered Promises 

How do we find ourselves

of no certain roof or

means of dwelling in the

event of the unfortunate 

loss of love or 

end of opportunity?

Smart women don’t trust whispered promises – 

smart women plan. 

 

Mother’s Day Gift

A mirroring nonette

“…so

you could

also have 

your mother with

you this Mother’s Day,”

one of my prize children

wrote on the gift card greeting

that arrived with a small square box

“Embrace the journey,” the box lid read

she’d lately taken up birdwatching

and discovered redbird lore: how 

departed loved ones appear

“I am always with you,”

the card inside said

I opened it:

a redbird

bracelet!

tears…..

 

Hippie Camp Haiku

Tasters Choice coffee

honey granola yogurt

breakfast, healthy-style

jeans and tie-dyed shirt 

no makeup, dry shampoo day

journal by campfire

feeding fat squirrels

‘70s music groovin’

hip flower-child style 

picnic on mountain

tomato sandwich, pickles 

valley view below 

hammock hugging trees

rescue dog sacked out with me

Birkenstocks touch sky

beeswax candle glows

fairy light tree casts aura

lanterns, hippie-style

stress-free mellowing

toasting marshmallows fireside 

peace, love, and camping