Category: Haibun

~Writing Poetry

On By Jerry BrothertonIn Haibun, Poetry1 Comment 
I have my dictionary, a thesaurus and a laptop filled with billions of pieces of information at my fingertips. There’s a staggering number of words, and combinations of words, hidden in my keyboard. Like scrabble pieces spread out on the table, all I need to do is lay them down in the right order, at the right time, and with the right flow to create the right image. Aah, this should be easy.
writing is easy
getting your words to make sense 
is the hardest part

~The Particulars of the Privy

On By Jerry BrothertonIn Haibun, Poetry1 Comment 
The family outhouse wasn't just thrown together willy-nilly. Oh, no. It was an object of pride. A showcase of engineering and ingenuity and a symbol of prosperity. There was a true science used in the construction of 'the throne'. 
It had to be built using only the best quality lumber. Generally, with 2" x 6" floor joist, cedar walls if possible but most likely just good white pine. Usually, the roof was just wood, but a fancy privy could have shingles and the la-ti-da privy might have had a tin roof. The roof slanted away from the side with the door towards the back to allow maximum rain roll-off. Also, you needed less height to sit on the crapper bench than you needed to drop your long-johns.
A standard structure was about 6 feet wide x 5 feet deep with the roof measuring approximately 8 feet tall at the highest point. Of course, those measurements would depend on whether it was your simple one-holer design or the more elaborate two-seater. A good coat of white paint would definitely set yours off from the neighbors and become the envy of the whole county. Don't make the door fit too tightly and remember to cut a crescent moon shape in it for proper ventilation and the only source of light.
A good supply of Montgomery Ward or Sears catalogs and a fly swatter were luxuries fit for the queen.
the important things 
will often go unnoticed—
until you need them

Now That I’ve Reached a Certain Age (Part Four)

On By Jerry BrothertonIn Haibun, Poetry5 Comments 


I'm getting a better understanding of what life is like at 1:30 AM— 3:30 AM— 5 AM. At least what it's like between the warmth of the bed covers and the shriveling cold of porcelain. Between those stumbling adventures, comes a lot of time spent staring into the darkness of what if, what was and what might be. Wrestling with those decisions made, the paths taken, and wondering where the paths not taken might have led. Now that I've reached a certain age, I've become aware of each breath and the sigh of relief that comes in knowing that the last one was not—the last one. It seems that each minute slides by just a bit faster than the one before it. I know that I can't afford to waste a single one.
seconds steal away
til they become a lifetime—
how quick they escape

Friendly Folk

On By Jerry BrothertonIn Haibun, Poetry2 Comments 


try to make sure each person you meet—
walks away happier than they arrived

I admit it. My philosophy has always been, "There's no such thing as a stranger, just a friend I haven't met yet." So, yes, I'll start a conversation while waiting in line at the grocery store. I'll help old people across the street, though most times I'm the one that could use the help. I say 'Thank You", "Please" and "Have a wonderful day". I try to have a smile even though I'm sad. It comes from being raised by parents that had next to nothing, but was always willing to share what they did have. A mom who showed only love and a father who gladly shared his gift of gab.
I'm not saying that my temper never gets the best of me. When it does, it flies out of my mouth like a sailor on meth. but usually it fades quickly. Now that I'm a little older and I hope a little wiser, I try to keep it hidden. I am trying to look at things from the other person's perspective.
Many times I've been told by my children that I am too friendly. But I don't think that's possible. A smile, a tip of the hat, a friendly wave, holding the door, letting someone merge onto your lane all cost nothing. Yet the rewards might be more than you can ever expect. Besides, who couldn't use another friend.

Voting Booth

On By Jerry BrothertonIn Haibun, Poetry1 Comment 
there's a reset switch
that will let us start over 
called a voting booth
I don't think anyone can look at the actions of America's modern Gestapo and tell me that they believe everything is fine. When we are willing to trade our freedom for a few cents off the price of a gallon of gas or a dozen eggs something is seriously off kilter. I don't care if you believe in the current administration or not. Wrong is wrong. When one man has caused so much hate, that the tear in the fabric of our nation has become so wide, action must be taken before it becomes unmendable. 

Sitting here on my tiny pile of rocks in the middle of the Ozarks of Missouri, seems to me the answer is pretty darn plain to see. Democracy does not mean, all for one. But one for all. When that one is trying to change the majority to suit him, then the majority must act.

Your vote is your biggest voice of any protest. From the local dogcatcher to the president, every election matters. Every vote matters. Vote as if your life depends on it—because it does.