Hi Ku Cat

[HarryHill]

..
No destination,
no hurry, no ambition, no
plans to change the agenda,
live well and prosper, but
this trek is drek.
I expect...

 

[butters]

breathe in breathe out--spread
leaves blanket battlegrounds
today's new poppies
_________________






n.b: a poor haiku

5-7-5 does not constitute a haiku. it constitutes a 5-7-5 3-liner, sometimes a poem. there is a whole lot more to haiku than its americanised sloppy laziness

 

[HarryHill]

..
Profanity here
opinions are like assholes
profanity there

 

[HarryHill]

..
My Love is an unstoppable force,
eyes open to shut, filling my day;
and then she goes to sleep.

 

[butters]

just 2 weeks to go
patience is not his virtue
but, boy, can he write

 

[HarryHill]

Pooetry

Prince on throne
eyes open to soul
plop.
..
Oh that flood at first I sat,
drunk with the gift of a poetry hat,
typing reams of electronic shat,
never thinking about the wipe,
flush.
..

 

[butters]

Prince on throne
eyes open to soul
plop.
..
Oh that flood at first I sat,
drunk with the gift of a poetry hat,
typing reams of electronic shat,
never thinking about the wipe,
flush.
..

just beware
that unexpected shit
don't fall off your throne

 

[HarryHill]

just beware
that unexpected shit
don't fall off your throne

..
The view out the front door centers me.

 

[HarryHill]

..
A thought splinters immediately,
ricochet away,
reload.

 

[HarryHill]

..
I reworked an old poetry challenge for submission. I really enjoyed writing it and reading it again, Thought it was time for the vault after the pooetry bit.
..
Pissing between the rails across the hills i see,
the glint of Mrs. Tuckers telescope, so I give a little wave.

 

[JJA122]

I'm making a choice
To not choose is still a choice
A new choice follows

 

[HarryHill]

..
There might be peppers in my pocket,
red and wrinkled but not yet dry.
anticipation.
..

 

[HarryHill]

December, four lines open in this huge store,
more customers trickle through automatic doors,
gates, seeping out of aisles, draining to where I wait,
to escape, run across town for a fifth.

 

[butters]

trees

winter wade
knee-deep in slow waters
colour of oiled steel
that catch sharp glances of sun

they stand and stare
at snowless blue skies
silt and little fishies
between their toes

 

[butters]

Fourth christmas spent in another land
far from loved ones, close with loved ones,
distant or near, absent or gone;
love knows what it knows—abides patient and content.

 

[butters]

he serves us breakfast
we eat, chatter, sip on hot coffee
loved ones are missed but cherished regardless
and our own love is the fire, banked and steady,
ready to burn bright with pursed lips of encouragement

 

[HarryHill]

Fourth christmas spent in another land
far from loved ones, close with loved ones,
distant or near, absent or gone;
love knows what it knows—abides patient and content.

..

 

[HarryHill]

..
I want a needle. I want some thread,
sew these ragged edges together,
mend some dreams.
..
I want a kiss. I want a tongue,
wrap those aching things together.
stitch awhile.
coffee break.
..
Loam under the cedars,
dusted with your leaves,
secluded spot for lovers,
rented by the hour,
dial 1 for other rates.

 

[HarryHill]

..
It's beautiful there,
those old cedars,
that ancient road,
a field and a pasture to either side,
on a summers moon lit night,
or day
that's a perfect spot for lovers in empty times,
soft wind sounds and peace.

 

[HarryHill]

..
She's read me to sleep most every night this month.
I never hear her voice,
see the pages turn

 

[HarryHill]

..
It's quiet here.
A library of thought.
An hour after closing time.
Not a single tome open.
...

 

[HarryHill]

..
One twenty eight twenty one
six seeds in a dark warm spot
ten days to a sprout
two seven twenty one

 

[butters]

what a week, what a week
head
and tail
bp tab, anti-b's, aleve
but--counting silver linings--
a welcome reversal
of that terrible term "atrophy"

 

[HarryHill]

..
Dirty, dirty snow,
ain't you ashamed?
Melt bitch.
...

 

[HarryHill]

..
If I were a poet on this day of hearts,
if flowers grew in the dead of winter,
doves nested in your hair,
romantic play lists followed you around,
I wouldn't have to struggle so to tell you how I feel,
here in the frozen covid wilderness