A gardenia
Opens thick and creamy sweet
And fades pepper spice
Haikus: April 2008 Archives
I wonder what they
Eat at the small restaurant
Neatly named Gushi
Hidden like jewels
Juicy summer fragrant fruit
Stains our fingers red
Those that delight us
And bring joy into our lives
We hope to please too
Rich moist dirt gently
Steams in the day's creeping heat
As young roots chase worms
When I was One,
I had just begun.
When I was Two,
I was nearly new.
When I was Three,
I was hardly me.
When I was Four,
I was not much more.
When I was Five,
I was just alive.
But now I am Six, I am clever as clever.
So I think I'll be six now for ever and ever.
~ A. A. Milne
The Sunmaid raisins
Lie forgotten in the sun
Slowly wrinkling more
My vase lies broken
On the floor. Smashed by the cat
purring on my lap.
Constant exposure
Either builds a large callous
Or wears to the bone.
High on the smell of
Freshly painted walls, concepts
Float like framed snapshots
Soapy sudsy white
Bubbles float down the windshield,
Appearances kept.
The wrong size pillow
Lurking in strange beds, waiting
To ambush your neck
