Tag Archives: poem

Haiku to you Thursday: “Align”

I sit, wait, and age. /

Celestial bodies align. /

Mine aligns with dust.

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Haiku to you Thursday: “Parting”

My heart jumps up. /

The elevator lurches down. /

Your lips part for mine.

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Photo finish Friday: “Flower plea”

"Oh, please, don't pick me."

“Oh, please, don’t pick me.”

Flower plea

Oh, please, oh, please, don’t pick me.
There’s only a short life within me.
Leave me so others can see me.
Let me be so I can be me.

Come by as often as you like,
Be it in a car, on foot, or a trike.
I’ll be here for all to delight.
To pick me would leave only a blight.

I’m here for only a short while.
Let my bloom help others to smile.
Do not give in to temptation or denial
And leave nothing but a joy defiled.

Oh, please, oh, please, don’t pick me.
There’s only a short life within me.
Leave me so others can see me.
Let me be so I can be me.

–photo and poem by David E. Booker

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Haiku to you Thursday: “Afternoon”

The afternoon creeps, /

Each minute an hour high /

Piled with things not done.

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Photo finish Friday: “Weekend”

Whichever way the weekend blows, it can only be better than the week.

Whichever way the weekend blows, it can only be better than the week.


O’ Come Weekend

O’, come weekend, come on soon
the week’s been hell, been like a bassoon
played off-key and played next to my ear,
or a pipe clattering, trying to get clear
of the air trapped inside when the taps turned on
whopping and whopping like a bad song.
O’, come weekend, come on soon
the week’s been hell, been like a baboon
locked in a small cage, tossing poop and food
flashing its teeth – O’ it’s been in a mood.
So come on weekend, get your ass here.
I’ve had more than I can take. Am I being clear?!

–Photo and poem by David E. Booker

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Haiku to you Thursday: “Pockets”

Deep in my pockets /

the dead ends of empty hands /

grasp at threadbare hope.

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Photo finish Friday: “See your point”

The eyes have it.

The eyes have it.



New eyes

Oh, doc, give me new eyes
You know, like those of spies.
Ones I can see into anywhere
Even clean through your underwear.
Eyes that they used to advertise:
“For a dollar you’ll never be surprised.”
They were in all the comic books
Before comic books got their “adult look.”

Oh, doc, I want some new eyes.
In case you didn’t yet surmise
I seem to be bumping into things
And there’s no joy in what that brings.
The other day I bumped into a man
Who threatened to send me to a faraway land.
It is a place I’d prefer not to go
’cause if it freezes over nobody will know.

Oh, doc, can’t you see the mess I’m in?
All the beauty I’m missing, it’s a sin.
Pretty ladies keep passing me by.
They drop money in my cup and then sigh.
Some say they used to know me before
When their beauty I’d spot and adore.
They wonder if my eyes were put out
By a jealous lover’s punch round about.

Oh, doc, what else can I say
That will enlighten you about the way
That my life has gotten very small
Because I can see no one nor nothing at all.
I promise to keep my new glasses clean
And turn away should I see something obscene.
But I’m a lawyer so I hope you understand
“Obscene” depends on the law of the land
And like some crazy, quixotic Spaniards,
We of the law are still groping for a good standard.

–poem by David E. Booker

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