The sky grew dark andmountains rumbled as we made
love before the gods.
drunk in a taxifall chill through window
cracked open with pizza box
from tuesday's dinner
Choux is the plural
Of chou. Chou is a cabbage.
Eclair is lightning.
So when you eat your
Eclair, you're eating lightning
Made of cabbages.
Whereas we humans
Need a couple of years to
Learn that little trick.
I get my morning
Paper at five a.m. Dawn
Has not yet broken.
And the only thing
I want to know is 'Has the
Record been broken?'
But diamonds, it
Seems, baseball or otherwise,
Are still forever.
A familiar thing
Seen in a different light
I love you tonight
Softly falls the rain
To cleanse all across the land
Erasing my pain
Where did this come from?
I've got a minor problem.
I'm kissing the nurse.
I'd keep my distance
If only she'd put up some
Resistance. She don't.
Au contraire. Like a
Chocolate eclair, she melts.
Fasten your seatbelts.
The clock chimes the hourThe bench is empty
Wood shavings lay on the ground
The chilled air has come.
My father spent World
War Two in India, with
The fighting Gurkhas.
Unbelievably,
The name of the area
Was Utter Pradesh.
Utter Pradesh. I
Ask you. He spent the war
In utter pradesh.
There really was a
Sergeant Pepper and he lived
In Utter Pradesh.
And he thought Lucy
In the sky with diamonds
Was utter rubbish.
Sergeant Pepper was
Pronounced Sarn't Pepper. Sarn't as
In my sainted aunt.
He dismissed out of
Hand attempts to organise
Lonely Hearts Club Bands.
Tears sliding down my
Ruddy cheeks as frustration
and despair mingle.
The sun is shining
The tadpoles jump from the banks
Of a secret lake
The sky grew dark and
mountains rumbled as we made
love before the gods.
Now it's the turn of
Generation X to seek
And discover sex.
Talking heads full of
Neurotransmitters may not
Transmit very much.
Their patter, their spiel,
Is usually designed
To cloak and conceal.
Everyone will have
A concrete opinion to
Support his image.
Unbeknownst to dreams
The dreamer is looking for
Underlying themes.
Who will kiss the man
With a cleft palate, a hare
Lip and a thick lisp?
Alternative this,
Alternative that, all of
Them superlative.
Crime and punishment
Seem like a befitting theme
To underly dreams.
Who would be so bold
To suggest he wouldn't mind
Growing sagely old?
Morning clouds
chasing sunrays and wild geese
flying southward.
Although, Lord above,
Somehow or another, his
Name came to mean good.
I think 'Now there's an
Odd question for a perfect
Stranger to ask. Pass.'
Silence. She puts it
Another way. "What problems
Confront us today?"
I thought 'Two can play
At being odd.' I said "Men
Playing being God."
I pay insurance
For reassurance. They take
My money and laugh.
Poverty implies
Fiscal impropriety.
White trash without cash.
The retrieval of
Deceitful discoveries
Reinforces lies.
"Hot off the presses,"
News vendors once cried. "Read all
About it," they lied.
Actions speak louder
Than words. And they speak loudest
When they're gunpowder.
It's a pity that
Intellectual sounds like
Ineffectual.
Learning by rote seems
To imply that parrots are
Wise. Don't ask me why.
The poet comments, "from Heidegger"
Past tense: poplar grove;
Present: a load of chained logs;
Future: a toothpick.
On their own will
my fingers climb up your thigh,
strange wispy creatures.
The poet comments, "This was written in answer to a challenge from a lady I knew who owned two cats, Tubby and Licorice. She wanted me to write a haiku about each cat and this is what I came up with for Tubby. Licorice is another matter altogether."
Momma is humming-
Ten cents for the bus in hand
My soul will fly free
The poet comments, " I also do Chinese Brush Painting, so this has double meaning."
At blossoms end
so promently displayed
and unfading - the thorn
The poet comments, " The attempt at reconcilliation failed"
Ancient coins and a well
the hopes and dreams of
of a distant past
Everybody seems
To be the thing that they don't
Want to be. Oddly.
So. You have lost your
Virginity. Let us pray
For sterility.
When the snake slithers
Into Pandora's box in
The school of hard knocks
All hell is let loose.
That is the message of myth.
Pity you're astute.
I could drink deceitThe sky is weeping-
Love lost and tumbled away
He misses the pain
The poet comments, "i'm still new at this "
Two little dewdrops
This jerk does his work
At maximum revs. Full speed
Ahead. Beat the clock.
In spite of the fact
That he can never win, he
Will never give in.
Which, on the surface,
Is wholly reasonable.
How could you quibble?
What lies underneath
So neatly encapsulates
Our love of a lie.
Whilst busy saving
Labour we have turned ourselves
Into slave labour.
We are slaves of the
Machines we invented. We
Have lost what we saved.
There's one strikingly
Simple example. The clock.
The wrist and stop watch.
Man first noticed that
He needed clocks after he'd
Invented railways.
Railways had to run
On time so railway stations
Had to have big clocks.
Upon entering
A railway station you were
Presented with time.
But what did you do
The rest of the time? Run out
To the sundial?
Turn the hourglass Thereby enslaving
The poet comments, "This haiku is dedicated to Jonathan Swift's writing which mocks the idea of
families in Ireland eating their children to survive."
Some of us agree with Swift re: any children! :)
What you get is a You get no fewer All of the time. One
The American This is because the
But their Holy Land They aim to be cool This mindset results Broken only by
The poet comments, "
May I submit a few others?"
Yes, of course!
On a city block
The poet comments, "
Anyone who has been around geese for a while knows what I mean."
I've been glitched beyond I'm bitching about
You would think a man But men are beset And simplifying
But our connection
I am, in other
The poet comments, "Can this possibly be about anything but love??"
The poet comments, "This is referring to a picture in which it appeared as though one penguin was pushing another off of a
ledge!"
The wind whispers cold
Her glassy iris
The poet comments, "for Y
"
Impatient bovines potent lion's roar
It is funny how Is this because that
Specks on the surface,
Asphalt rushes by Mornings should be new
The poet comments, "Only in Brigantine, O former Fluffyian!
"
Toast Point grins.
candlelit silence
The problem with life
It gets on my wick Nothing is faintly
The poet comments, "A painted lady is a species of butterfly. A gaudy species."
If you're so adept If you're so smart, how You're only so-so. We have just been taught The opposite of We need something more Did the science of Mandelbrodt fractals. Mandelbrodt fractals -
The poet comments, "I only have the book 'Chaos' in Hebrew and I can't remember how to spell Mandelbrodt in
English."
Granted. The life of But I care not one I want art, not life. Not some lame duck who's
It's an engaging One would be obliged Where a man likes to He doesn't want dead Ah me. Wake up and
The poet comments, "Charming website."
Thank you!
Tense scolding river Cool crystal-clear pond
Good God almighty, Rivulets of sweat I'm in need of a Having something to I bought myself a Over and over And tonight, if all
But first I must milk
Ah'd like for y'all to You have the love light You can't make omelettes Wahl I guess not Hank.
There has to be some Ah'm from Texas and
Are you leading a Some do. Some don't. Some Sometimes someone sums
The poet comments, "Glad you try to keep to the 5-7-5 rule."
There has to be a It's bad to mention
Too few to mention,
Passing cars steal my Birds drip from the trees
The poet comments, "A bird watching trip with no birds"
The red truck races In his eyes I see
The poet comments, "On the shores of an adirondack lake my son stirs from his nap. Bright eyed as he awakes I'm startled
to see myself so clearly in his eyes. Behind my own reflection the mountains unfold."
Time spent with my boy This mornings cars would The pool is still open So red, oh so red This morning I read I'm forever lost Hibiscus flowers Mind steals poems from Behind the birch tree The ego that just Yeserday's dinner Morning ritual Sayadaw's method
The poet comments, "The meditation technique taught by the Late Venerable Mahasi Sayadaw of Burma is an exacting
moment to moment watching of all that occurs in the mind and body. Labeling each occurence in the moment of its arising. How
helpful it would have been as I look out the window and almost drop my son."
No birds this trip, still How to get down there? That would make mom scream Ego fueled anger The distant mountains
The poet comments, "A verison of Issa's a great summer, but the rain brings autumn
Blessed with a life more Fun and games. Bread and You need some iron Things become clearer I will bang my head True. I feel a lot
The poet comments, "By the way, I'm having difficulty in submitting these to you. That business about banging my head
against a brick wall was all too prescient."
An eternal search As a profession, Pursue a line of Say, Buddy, can you
Loud thunder crashes A setting suns light
pushing shopping cart
Broken flesh's green-red,
Up, up and away.
But my friends don't see
The parrot doesn't
This is a flight for
I heard a poet
Which put the poet
"Rhyming is music,"
Park your butt on a Why is this Thai lad
The poet comments, "Pie-toon is the name of the Thai lad."
You've got little chance Pie-toon doesn't know Unfortunately I'd say he must be Sadly, I'm quite right. Fortunately, I I do it with all Hopefully, this makes Why must I rebuff?
used to get a snack
Poets live beyond Nobel Laureate Visits by earnest Meaning of the phrase Poetry is the As interviewees
Jerry Falwell, Duke
The poet comments, "A hand is stung by a wasp while picking tomatoes. The hand becomes
swollen and red like a ripe tomato."
A sad circus clown
The poet comments, "The fake smile on a circus clown may symbolize the facade we all show
in public. We may have feelings that others are unaware of. They may
even be opposites like with the sad clown."
The poet comments, "New love brings forth haiku!"
Birth of a child Yellow, green and blue Drinking morning dew
The poet comments, "Bad haiku contest?
"
Well, no, it isn't, but we loved your delightfully bad entry. Or is it entree?
Early spring blossoms
Upside down? Well, yes. It was
A lot of labour,
Clock for everyman.
Every man to time. Like my
Friend who beats the clock.
Dave Ryon writes 09/20/98
They are lean and sweet.
Children are but slabs of meat.
Swift's choice is to eat!
Stuart Reed writes 09/20/98
Hebrish
If you want to watch
Monday Night Football in the
Holy Land (say what)
Travesty. You get Hebrish.
You get gibberish.
Than five commentators, of
Whom two are speaking
In English and the other
In Hebrew. Hebrish.
It's A Paradox, Alright
Furthermore, there is
An astonishing contrast
In delivery.
Commentators are juiced. The
Israelis are loose.
Americans feel loose, and
The Israelis, juiced.
Touchdown. Wow
Our transatlantic
Cousins do a lovely loose
Job of being juiced.
Counterparts are overawed.
They try to sound bored.
Their intention is
To give the impression that
They are unimpressed.
By being nobody's fool
But can't hide their drool.
In an insufferable
Monotonic drone.
An occasional strangled
Cry of 'Touchdown. Wow."
Louis Dargin writes 09/20/98
Robin and sparrow -
tracks in the wet clay
ending a long hard day
a flock of geese has landed
and is arguing
Ancho writes 09/19/98
sitting on commode
cordless phone just to one side...
undisturbed reading
Stuart Reed writes 09/18/98
Bitching
Glitches are often
Brought on by witches, which is
What's happened to me.
Repair. Hours of work have
Gone up in thin air.
Being glitched by a witch who
Is also a bitch.
Shooting for the Moon
I consistently
Underestimate me. This
Is fairly easy.
Would know himself better than
He knows someone else.
By complexes. For instance,
Battles of sexes.
Contradictions is, I fear,
Shooting for the moon.
The Twang of Umbilical Chords
The quickness of our
Thinking deceives us into
Thinking life is fast.
To the cyclical may well
Be umbilical.
I Am A Breast
I have a day job
That consists entirely of
Feeding mother's milk.
Words, a breast. A fact of which
I am not abreast.
Cheryl Crowe writes 09/18/98
Leaves fall softly like rain
The warmth of summer is gone
eyes flood like oceans
Deb Brewer writes 09/17/98
black and white penguins
with murderous thoughts in mind
commit fratricide
Red and yellow leaves flutter
Slowly falling down
Leonard Ong writes 09/17/98
Twisted mango tree
A speckled shell lay empty
Pitted straw flailing
Into pristine depths wallow
My wild abandon
Cayman writes 09/16/98
cicada rhythm
against artificial moon
casts dragon shadows
Weeping willow leaves
cradle your stone in shadow
perpetual mourner
feel impending summer storm
restless agitation
fills the humid jungle air
while his prey trembles
Stuart Reed writes 09/16/98
Wit and Wisdom
The wit and wisdom
Of Noel Coward have made
Coward a hero.
Seriously humans take
A sense of humour.
Is what differentiates
Us from animals?
Lucan writes 09/16/98
People glance then go
Lonely steward reads out loud
Endless mental spill
Sergei Braun writes 09/15/98
Laws of gravity:
Distant galaxies collide...
Tears flow down the cheek.
Upturned bowl of sky
fills up with evening water-
Cup your hands and wait!
ripples on eternal sea.
Why are we mortal?
Joe Gill writes 09/15/98
Sun sparks the waves
She daydreams of joy long gone
Sweet smells turn the page
Foot crushed throttle wide open
Embraced by blue sky
Hard to leave the past alone
Alcohol's curse
Vengeance in a cup
Creator of self sorrow
Trapped in the cycle
Changchup Kocha writes 09/14/98
Bagpipes on the beach!
Of all the things! At sunset--
Aye, those pipes did wail!
Leonard Ong writes 09/13/98
Crimson stained moth
Shuddering in throes of death
Rears its ratty wings
Leonard writes 09/13/98
gilded sinful i
mired twisted ensemble
chaotic sexuality
prancing shadows toy statues
gothic paradigm
Stuart Reed writes 09/13/98
Ageing Noisily
Characteristic
Rattles and hums affect my
Chest as winter comes.
Is not its brevity but
Its longevity.
Painted Ladies of Science
"Country bumpkins are
Morons," she said. I said "That's
An oxymoron."
That city dwellers think of
Us farmers as hicks.
As gaudily dainty as
A painted lady.
How come you are yclept a hick?
A rube from the sticks?
Come you haven't turned your life
Into an art, tart?
Thinking big, in your case, is
A big-time no-no.
That linear thought is an
Inferior sort.
Linear's disappointing.
It's non-linear.
Poetic to describe thoughts
That are chaotic.
Chaos grow from the swamps of
Non-linear thought?
Isn't that a lovely phrase.
Though maybe misspellt.
Gaudily dainty painted
Ladies of science.
Stuart Reed writes 09/12/98
Who Gives A Quack?
Would you believe that
Instead of Pulp Fiction they
Give me Bill Clinton?
The president has lately
Become pulp fiction.
Whit, tittle or jot. Also
Not one iota.
Travolta, Tarantino,
Samuel Jackson,
Determined to self-destruct.
Like, who gives a quack?
Not President's Choice
"Did you see a sign
That said Dead Nigger Storage?"
Quentin is enraged.
Rage. "I ain't running no dead
Nigger warehouse here."
To agree. We are talking
Suburbia here.
Taste his coffee, likes to taste
His gourmet coffee.
Headless niggers cluttering
Up his clean garage.
Smell the coffee. It's gourmet,
Not President's Choice.
Changchup Kocha writes 09/11/98
Traffic and gray light
Slept all night with windows up
Dreams I can't recall.
Richard Runger Jr. writes 09/11/98
Shimmering sunset
A tangerine tapestry
Horizon now sleeps
Scarlet silk petals
Piercing pain along the stem
Pure sweet aroma
pulsing water pounds the rocks
Vicious foaming froth
Evergreens reflect on glass
Calm quiet stillness
Frantic waves below
Salty film stings the shoreline
Aqua battles beige
Stuart Reed writes 09/11/98
Under Your Spell
Knowing full well I'm
Under your spell means that I
Don't feel very well.
There's a fight going on. It's
Between good and bad.
Trickle and tickle and make
My shirt soaking wet.
Boost, which is most unusual,
As I rule the roost.
Look forward to makes the clock
Move as though through glue.
VCR because I wished
To watch Pulp Fiction.
And over and over and
Over and over.
Goes well, I will at last be
Put under its spell.
Contrasting Lifestyles
But first several hours
Must shuffle past. Hours that last
Far longer than hours.
My cows. I shall reflect on
Contrasting lifestyles.
Emel writes 09/11/98
My child loves large dogs
Jumping in the summer sun
She laughs when they bark
John Allen writes 09/11/98
man examines
kitchen sink he found
in garbage
Ancho writes 09/11/98
scantily clad girl
from window bids all enter...
clothes boutique dummy
Stuart Reed writes 09/10/98
Global Village Vegetable
This is the global
Village and I'm the global
Village idiot.
Understand. Ah'm from Texas
And Texas is grand.
In your eyes. I guess this means
I have won first prize.
Without breaking eggs. Don't you
Know that Peggy Sue?
I guess I ain't got no dimes
In my piggy bank.
Ah'm Not Red Adair
Ladies of the court
Shiver when they hear the words
Stand and deliver.
Methodology. Not hit
And missology.
Ah know my oil, even though
Ah'm not Red Adair.
Or A Guitar Riff
Turn the other cheek,
Pipsqueak. Let the other cheek
Do all the talking.
Double life? Are you troubled
By your triple life?
Can. Some can't. Some say they will
But you know they won't.
Up everything with a sniff.
Or a guitar riff.
Ancho writes 09/09/98
stopping in mid swing-
better a clean paperback
than a destroyed fly
Changchup Kocha writes 09/09/98
The portulaccas
Just a heap of tangled vines
Still - tongues of color!
Stuart Reed writes 09/09/98
Not that it wasn't
Before, but now it's become
Something of a more.
Unmentionables
We're curiously
Reluctant to admit that
We talk to ourselves.
Good reason for this. Blissful
Ignorance, perhaps.
Even unintentional
Unmentionables.
We've Heard of Fig Leaves
Who out there has heard
Of underwear being called
Unmentionables?
Came the instant response, though
We've heard of fig leaves.
Gary Steinberg writes 09/09/98
A difficult search
for shelter this cool evening
-- evicted spider
poem - oh! how beautiful
everything passes
but only in my mind. here....
here it's so quiet
Though I know better
I always think it's a snake
horny red squirrel
it's own reflection in the
mirror of the lake
my own reflection,---deeper
I see the whole world
I love it--- even weeping
He's pissed at dad though
again steal my poem, but
Ha! my mind is blank
though it's too cold for swimming
Labor day weekend
a single tree with leaves turned
looks hot to the touch
about baseball-- but my heart
it thumps with football
from the path. It seems clear now
tommorow who knows
cling tenuously to life
withering in the cold
My breath is louder
then my feet in the gravel
steep hill, old body
mind. That which gives, takes away.
So much confusion
an unidentified chirp
My lamentation
before inspired anger
has left this building
makes me squeak and squeak and toot
--weak morning coffee
the cover comes off the pool
--still too cold to swim
perfect for watching children
---moment to moment
the sun rises the sun sets
This too comes to pass
A wonder if I make it
Steep steps, weak ankle
spider in baby's carseat
---instant heart attack
fills this head, limits vision
missing this spring day
are reflected in the eyes
of my little boy
the distant mountains
are reflected in the eyes
of the dragonfly"
it's been a long time coming
--going home at last
a day with no poetry
just watch the leaves turns
Stuart Reed writes 09/08/98
Budweiser Suds
Girls want fun and to
Look out for number one, like
Every mother's son.
Bunyanesque than Runyanesque
The pilgrims progress.
Circuses. Television
Tames your impulses.
It is the season
Of the harvest moon, rising
Golden as butter.
In your soul. Think of your spine
As a stiff backbone.
When clever legal eagles
Leave the area.
Against a brick wall until
It feels good to stop.
Less closer to you than I
Do to my haiku.
For internal logic may
Lead one to magic.
Listening to confessions
Must rank as most odd.
Thought. Come to a conclusion
Contained in the brain.
Spare a dime for a bottle
Of Budweiser suds.
Vanessa writes 09/08/98
the smell of clean sheets
stretching to hang laundry
I become a kite
Andrew Keegan writes 09/08/98
Rain falling off leaves
giving life to a dry earth
is soon taken back
Pictures in my mind
of last season's foliage
are being replaced.
streaks of fire in the night
a small summer storm.
filtering through dark green leaves
shows me the way home.
DeVar writes 09/07/98
hapless mosquito
succumbs to a shortened life
for a drop of blood
bag lady guards her few things
and her dignity
LOWCOO writes 09/07/98
No ripples
On the old pond
Dead Frog
Sergei Braun writes 09/06/98
Incandescent glow:
the zeal of strawberry field
denies the sunset
sweet blood of watermelon.
The summer drama.
Virginity's lost
on the back seat of this car.
Finder's keeper.
Stuart Reed writes 09/06/98
Fly High and Wide, Bird
I know how it feels
To be the one being shown
A clean pair of heels.
A parrot that shouldn't be
There flies through the air.
A bright green parrot. They see
A thousand dollars.
See my friends. Instead it sees
A long jail sentence.
Freedom. Guess which side I'm on.
Fly high and wide, Bird.
Is Music Old-Fashioned?
Musicians commit
Suicide when silence's
Balance is impaired.
Being earnestly told that
Rhyming's old-fashioned.
On the defensive. He sighed.
Being odd is tough.
He replied. And added "Is
Music old-fashioned?"
Stuart Reed writes 09/05/98
Being Odd is Tough
Haiku Written Whilst Milking Cows.'
September 4th
I know how much it
Suits me to hunt for beauty
And then discard it.
Hot concrete seat and reflect
On degrees of heat.
Twirling the dial like mad?
What tune seeks Pie-toon?
Of making any advance
On the staus quo.
That I would rather his voice
Than the radio.
He knows that I like to play
The piano. So,
Looking for a piano
On the radio.
Imagine his dismay when
I change the station.
Do not do this dastardly deed
Demonstratively.
The politesse that we old
English gents possess.
My rebuff of his friendly
Gesture bearable.
It's the story of my life.
Being odd is tough.
Fernando Montenegro writes 09/05/98
On top of high steel
across low immense valley
dark sunsets collapse.
Becky Bassett writes 09/05/98
Shame
Standing Silhouette
exposed behind drawn curtain
exploits thy own self.
Ancho writes 09/04/98
trying but failing
to drown a troublesome fly
gas station pit stop
in the middle of the night
now checks the e-mail
Andrew Keegan writes 09/04/98
Clouds covered the sun
A breeze played on the water
My heart was broken.
S. Guzman writes 09/03/98
Living in silence,
Using my eyes to hear you
And my hands to talk.
Stuart Reed writes 09/03/98
(You'd be surprised just
How wrong a million strong
Human throng can be.)
A Tough Nut to Crack
If you've come across
A formula, you are not
A normal poet.
The reach of almost all the
Preachy formulae.
Ms. Wislawa Szymborska
Has to put up with
Journalists who seem blithely
Unaware of the
Poetic justice. They don't
See (how could they?) that
Voice of the solitary
Man who hates to speak.
They will undoubtedly be
A tough nut to crack.
Both in the Same Breath
How you bound around.
Does your bounding around know
No bounds? Must you bounce?
Ellington. How can you say
Both in the same breath?
Thomas Carpenter writes 09/03/98
Summer tomatoes.
My hand soon swelled and reddened.
Surprised by a wasp!
Rides on the back of a horse.
Loud cheers from the crowd.
Whatever, Whomever writes 09/02/98
Thousand times each day
Two suns set and gently rise
You blink your brown eyes
Amy Lyn Miller writes
09/02/98
Tossing and turning
writhing in severest pain
carcinogens dwell
Soft, red, velvety
the lips of the rosebuds part
anxiously waiting
Education of our teens
Death of a nation
sunlight through prisms filter
rainbows in our souls
Hearing the clouds passing by
Savory Seasons
Joe Gill writes 09/01/98
Pink broccoli clouds
Hot rays of giant fondue
Spill on to the ground
Michael writes 08/31/98
Watercolor sky
a wash of soft mottled grey
soon the autumn rains
a tentative questing love
still fearing the frost
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