do you think it’s funny
hilarious, haha, a joke
how a billionaire’s money
is enough to make him an expert
on how to put his hands
around your throat
until you choke
how your taxes should be spent
and who should be sent away
to another place
to disappear without a trace
sold into slavery
or worse
to another time
when people were schooled
that rich white men ruled and
everyone else was
easily fooled
where women stayed
in the kitchen all day
preferably naked
and always ready to play
nobody was welcome
unless they could pay
their five million dollar
fee to stay
does it make you giggle
when our president
rants and raves
stomps his feet
and holds his breath
until his face
turns orange
says that only he
knows what’s best
for the billionaires
because quite frankly
no one cares about
all the rest
everyone must bow down
lay down
stay down
or get put down
orange marmalade
like fentanyl laced Gatorade
breaks the spirit
numbs the mind
until you find
you’re on the floor
too weak to
care anymore
Category: Poetry
National Haiku Day
Happy April 17th my friends. Isn’t it a good day to be alive.
Once again, National Haiku Day is upon us. For those not familiar with the haiku, the western haiku is derived from the ancient form of Japanese poetry. It consists of three lines with the syllable structure “five-seven-five”. The more formal Japanese haiku count sounds, not only syllables. Haiku typically are about nature, or the passing of seasons and usually rely more on images than metaphors.
If you’re feeling up to it, why not give it a try. I’d love to read them.
Here is my attempt, either for your enjoyment or your amusement. Hope you like it.
~Soft Music~
Wind chimes synchronize
to nature’s morning chorus—
Summer symphony
~Outdated~
I am not made for these modern times
Missouri mud runs through my veins
unspoiled country air flows through my lungs.
my roots are intertwined in the bedrock of culture,
traditions and folklore of a pioneer Midwest
My heart beats with the rhythm
of wind through oak trees
the sway of golden wheat
the steady fall of summer rain
on metal porch roofs
My voice is the sound
of pickup trucks on gravel roads
tractors plowing through gumbo
the hoot of owls from leaning red barns.
the yip of foxes or the howl of coyotes from
across green pastures under full moon’s glow
trumpeting of a rooster greeting the day
songs of blue jays, cardinals, red wing blackbirds
caw of crows pecking through early snow
on harvested corn fields
beat of horse hooves
lazy bawling of cows
My nostril are filled with the smell of
wildflower meadows, fresh baled hay
alfalfa, soybeans, and apple blossoms
I am lightning bugs on summer’s eve
coon hounds asleep on sunlit porches
family picnics on red checkered tablecloths
horseshoes, freeze tag and kick the can
I am unlocked doors and open windows
rocking chairs and back porch swings
I am outdated
How Time Flies
Hello friends,
Well I have marked an X on the calendar through half the days of April. Why is it I wonder, the older in years I get the faster time seems to fly by. They keep telling me that after retirement I’d have so much time on my hands I’d start to get bored. But I have to say that I can’t even seem to find the minutes I need to get everything done that I want to do.
At any rate, I just wanted to drop a line and update you guys on my April Reset Challenge. I know what you’re thinking, “you mean he still remembers he was doing a challenge?” I do, and I consider that a win for sure.
After 15 days, I have walked 82.61 of the 100 miles I challenged myself for.
I also challenged myself to write 30 poems for April’s National Poetry Month. As of today, I have written 21 new poems and only ¾ of them are about Donald Trump or his puppet master. Which brings me to today’s monoku:
~How Time Flies~
the older we get—the faster time and memories fly away
Morning Walk
I came upon a peaceful scene,
the beauty of a meadow green.
A tree, a pond, a flowing creek,
wildflowers of spring at their peak.
A soft sun hung in cobalt skies,
my heart smiled, my spirit did rise.
I could do naught but stand and stare,
at what his hands had displayed there.
Such wonder brought tears to my eyes,
soon I began to realize.
A wondrous view of God’s plan,
of His world yet unspoiled by man.
Jerry Brotherton 