Haiku
I love all flowers
because they share the beauty
that I always need.
#7 – Broken Dreams (non-cliched angst)
The eggs were dry yesterday,
and, each day after I bought them.
It’s true the refrigerator leaked,
but I covered them in plastic wrap
and moved them to the front,
where the leak was minimal.
My girlfriend is coming tonight,
and yes, it is to be a special night.
We will see a play at the Plaza,
followed by a horse carriage ride,
and then, dinner prepared by me,
of an omelet exactly to her order.
She’s in the living room,
watching the Summer Olympics.
Its never been her style to watch,
but she knew I was busy,
dicing her ham pieces into hearts
and slicing the peppers into rings
I assembled the ingredients with care
never letting her know of my proposal
I cracked an egg and another
and the sulfuric smell was intolerable.
I knew they would be bad. I knew life sucked.
Shit!
~chowilawu~
The Unwanted Salesman
There’s a knock at my heart’s door
And though I know I shouldn’t answer it
I open the door anyway.
He slips in
claiming to be here
only a few minutes.
But he’s sneaky
And attacks me where he knows I’m weak.
He wants to be
the chains that bind me
the chains that hold me down
and stop me from being
the butterfly I’m meant to be.
So I dig down deep,
Deep within my soul.
And tell
Fear
Anxiety
Angst
To kick rocks
and get out of my heart.
This is not your home.
There is no room for you here.
The Boat Ride
A light breeze cools the hazy summer sky.
Green, choppy waters dance a lively two-step with the small fishing boat
As she heads out into the lake.
A new rod and reel to count how many feet of fishing line are let out
When trolling for walleyes.
Trolling takes patience and a brightly colored lure
No fish yet.
Why isn’t there a bobber?
We aren’t bobber fishing.
How about jigging?
No. The lure does the work.
Another pass. Another.
I look at the houses of rich people,
Thinking it’s funny they have to wash all those windows
So they have a clear view of me
Waiting to catch fish.
Big boats slam the waves,
Smacking them and pushing them towards us.
A couple of snags and a small rock bass.
Oh, and an old lure caught in the weeds.
Heading for shore.
No fish today.
Only a boat ride.
Painted Love
Carefully he chose his brush and painted her with ease.
A bit more bright yellow, he gave the tube a squeeze.
In her wavy, brunette hair he dobbed wispy bows of blue.
Then on her dress he splashed red hearts of I love you!
He continued with some Violet’s in her small hands there,
Gently on and on he added her tender smile with his flair!
A lot of respect for his art and with a kindness in his voice she came to life.
He drew her from the canvas into his strong arms and made her his wife!
`
The Day We Were Silent
Nothing compares to
Silence
Not speaking at the wrong time
Sitting and to hear nothing
Can breathe life
Back into the room
Silence
Lay here
Finally enjoying the moment
Created
Understanding happiness
Can come in all
Forms
Red Dot Angst
Where is it?
The red dot that traces the walls,
there it is!
on the roof taunting me,
out of reach,
I will jump on the book case to see if I can get a closer look at the source of its existence,
It trembles a little,
bouncing up and down,
I jump at it,
closing my fur covered hands around it,
I open my white covered hands and it is gone,
It was here a second before,
how will I find it,
there it is!
crawling across the floor,
pacing up towards the couch,
I got this,
jumping onto the couch– I grab the dot,
It is–
MINE!
hands open,
unobtainable,
I forfeit this round and lay down on my bed,
chin rested on my hands,
I try to clear my mind,
red dot, red dot, red dot,
taunting whispers,
tickled whiskers,
All I see is red dots,
cover my head in the blankets,
succumbing to the torture of red dots.
Bird Muse #3: The Ducks
Bird Muse #3: The Ducks
Frannie Z
Every year I lived in Madison,
I would see a mom duck
and ducklings
trailing along some road
in spring.
But it was never the same road.
All the drivers stopped.
Or, to put it more personally,
each driver found it within
herself or himself
to push the brakes
and be delayed
for as long as it took
the ducks to paddle
safely across or behind.
The mom duck of course
waddled authoritatively,
as if to say, “You see
what I have to guard.
Grant me care.”
But sometimes
the ducklings closest
to the front
would start to rock on each foot
as they walked,
imitating the mom,
forecasting their entrance
into approved duckdom.
One spring
it rained and rained and rained.
The four lakes and Yahara river swelled,
then flooded.
The ducks bobbled on paths
they had never seen or taken before.
They seemed larger,
a bit angrier,
flushed yet determined.
They invaded, fuddled around
places people usually walked.
It was as if their new freedom,
crafted by water,
propelled them into strength.
I left the year after.
Hour Four: Wolf Crown
if the predator felt the sting of infinity,
his pelt brushed against my skin, warmed me to the core.
I went for the wolf crown, adorned in diamonds and lust,
must have been tragic, escaping from his mouth,
with carnage and sharp teeth,
his howl shook all the veins straight up like hairs,
pulling apart my only need.
he found blood moons in my eyes,
he forgot how to handle with care,
and shifted all the buildings in my soul,
toppled them all, built from straw and bad things.
touched his brown fur, crawling in the forest, rumbling and crumbling,
and letting his shadows out to play, wild and disastrous like all my omen and prayers.
His brown eyes carnal in the way we talk about the world,
he still haunts me still, at least I wear his wolf crown,
and I can’t stand in the darkness without feeling him all around,
like some sort of phantom thing.
Panic!
I’m
fucking
dying
not enough
air
I can’t
fucking
breathe
five steps
heart
pounding
heart attack?
no,
too much
hands shaking
cold
legs going numb
help me
I’m dying