Tag Archives: poem

Haiku to you Thursday: “Spring cleaning”

Broom in the corner; /

cobwebs cling to the handle. /

Spring cleaning begins.

Clinging to the handle.

Clinging to the handle.

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Haiku to you Thursday: “Message scent”

Blooms in Spring’s desires. /

Companion to construction. /

Scent not of flowers.

A pot to "plant" in.

A pot to “plant” in.

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Haiku to you Thursday: “Away”

Away and away /

flies the moments of our past. /

Still — my heart remains.

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Haiku to you Thursday: “For us”

Is the sun for us /

or are we merely its guests /

at a feast of light?

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Photo finish Friday: “Lights out”

Traffic indecisive.

Traffic indecisive.

There once was a light in town
that folks just couldn’t get around.
Red, yellow, and also green:
all colors could be seen.
It glowed all day and night —
strong was the town’s light plight.
They couldn’t get anywhere
with that light hanging in the air.
Stuck at a standstill they were;
no thought or action could occur.
Nobody knew what to expect
or which color light to select.
Green meant they should go,
yellow meant I don’t know,
And red meant do no more,
keep your brake down to the floor.
So there were wrecks and bottlenecks
and people who couldn’t trek.
The town was in full mess.
What to do was anyone’s guess.
Then one day in the dead of night
with hoods on to block the light
people stumbled and bumbled around
until they cut the light Hydra down.
They hung it in the town museum
where folks now can come and see them:
all three bright lights —
glowing both day and night.
But they attached a timer switch
so even those caught in its twitch
have a chance to get away
on this, April Fool’s Day.
So, if you ever come to town
and feel life has you down,
go where others have already gone
and watch the lights shine on and on.

–photo and poem by David E. Booker

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Haiku to you Thursday: “Stars”

If the stars touch me, /

I will be as one with them /

as I am with you.

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The things Spring brings

In the Neighborhood

Spring brings many things:
Alarm sales and fresh-meat men peddling,
Spores flowing as if there will be no more,
Ice cream from a truck whose music rings
As if the end of days will wend
Up and down the streets
Maniacal notes vibrating from the new leaves and petals
As the sun runs undone —
A child on a bike just pedaling to have fun.

–David E. Booker

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