Country roads beckon on sunny Sunday afternoon. Put on farm cap and sunglasses, grab water bottle and hop into open jeep, painted red for fun. The warm sun smiles down on husband and wife as we bounce along past scenes of cud-chewing cows and cornfields.
Congenial conversation shortens our trek to a state park. We park jeep to hike trail which meanders along rock cliffs, laughing waterfalls, and the deep-pooled river. Walk up sweet sweat. Admire wildflowers, glimpse elusive deer, and discover a painted turtle.
We pause next to low stone dam where bullheads mingle towards evening. Hear gentle sound of water spilling over, see sunlight filter through trees to sparkle on river’s surface, and soak in this one shining moment, hand in hand.
leafy glade’s green growth—
natural sabbatical
under God’s heaven
Join Lillian at dVerse poetics for a traditional haibun/haiku challenge!
denied generational racism:
promoting eugenic abortions
in minority neighborhoods
and government dependency
programs that undermine
fatherhood, family, and
educational choice.
years of anger over injustice,
fear of pandemic isolation are
fuel; police brutality the spark
for radicals like antifa to…
“Cry havoc and let slip the gods of war.”
(quote by Marc Anthony in Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar)
A quadrille for dVerse poets where Linda challenges us to write on this quote.
jazz player works
as server in clatter
of greek restaurant;
smells of saffron and
grease, noisy demands
feel like a black hole
he got sucked into. it’s
not his dream job but
his lion heart, inspired
by ivory-petaled songs
of springsnowdrops,
composes after hours
a new saxophonesolo
to make his spiritrock.
Take me back to Broadway at night! Let’s experience the electric excitement in street lights’ shine, neon signs blinking, billboards’ glare, and stream of traffic headlights or taillights in opposite lanes. Life in Denver drives on pulsating grid.
White delivery trucks, yellow taxis, blue mustangs and red VW bugs follow the streets, avenues, and boulevards of my childhood and adolescence. Dibs on the back seat of school bus! An urgent siren sends all traffic curbside to let a flashing emergency vehicle past.
Be ready with horn or brakes and quick maneuvers. Circle carefully around bustling parking lots. Wait your turn at busy car wash or fast food drive-up window. Go slow through used car lot…lit by aliens? No, it’s a police helicopter checking back alleys.
girl’s eyes reflect lights
cruise city on summer night
buzzy as beehive
Kim hosts haibuns and invites us to “meet Piet” on “Broadway” at dVerse Poets pub.
Frank J. Tassone challenges us to “meet the bar” of tanka/kyoka writing at dVerse poets pub.I had learned strict syllabic writing of these forms so was surprised by Frank’s notes:
“Now, a brief word on tanka/kyoka and syllabic writing. Beginners are often taught that both tanka and kyoka need to be written in no more than 31 syllables, usually broken up into a 5-7-5-7-7 pattern. However, an English syllable is a different linguistic unit from a Japanese mora, and the counts refer to mora, not syllable. If an English-language writer of Japanese forms wants to write accurately, the proper syllable count for a haiku/senryu would be 10-12, and a tanka/kyoka 20-24.”
life portals bear import
more than ports of call
they demand deportment
choose to step through
this door to the other side
as it shuts quietly behind
there’s no going back now
the goodbyes and hellos of
these unmasked emotions
express momentous change
leave outgrown past for
future’s fresh opportunities
every end is new beginning
I stare at empty nest as our fourth son is now married and moved out…and Anmol (HA) hosts dVerse poetics with interesting with “portals” prompt. How fitting!
a poem in my pocket 
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