Dad’s Home

The clatter of bones on the hardwood floor,
A chorus of barking, a lull, then some more,
A laugh and a “HEY!”
(As if they’d obey),
Then “FOX!” and they crash through the door.

 

. . .”Ohhhhh.  Bentley got out.”

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For Dad

You speak of new beginnings and end up shedding tears
As you recall God’s blessings upon us through the years—
That which you’ve heard and witnessed, which your own hands have touched,
The Word of God made human—Immanuel: God with us
And Jesus’ heavenly Father, who is our Father too—
In heaven we’ll see Him clearly; on Earth He gave me you.

Shared with: http://poetryblogroll.blogspot.com/2013/06/its-fathers-day-in-poetry-pantry.html

When is slavery good?

“You’re gonna have to serve somebody.”–Bob Dylan

Join the jolly chain gang, where we jangle our chains;
Do a two step, a tango, or waltz for a change–
These chains aren’t restricting or constricting our feet,
They just hold the place where the heart and soul meet.
More

New Year’s Revolutions

Release the hounds and shoot the mortars high–
Loud explosions signal war;
Innocents die evermore.

Taps

Happy Holidays

Noel Noel

‘Tis the season to
Wish you Merry Christmas
And Happy New Year!

For: http://haiku-heights.blogspot.com/

A Small Sad Poem

Karen

Modified from a Todd Goldman book cover.

Things can always get a little worse:
Like that time we went to DC in the rain
And it was sixty-five degrees when we left, thirty-five when we arrived
And we bought one umbrella for the five of us,
Or that time I accidentally took the wrong bus
And had to walk three miles to get home
And a drunk lady threw up on me,
Or when I got sick myself
And missed the deadline for the term paper
And your birthday
And wrote a small sad poem.

Poetic Manifesto

I write to light the fire that burns out of control,
I write to fight the dark contagion in my soul,
I write to reach the heights my mouth cannot attain,
I write to teach the thoughts that echo in my brain,
I write to fill the page with humor, truth, and smiling,
I write to spill the rage, the sadness, and reviling,
I write to shift the phrases pointing up above,
I write to lift up praises to the God I love.

I fold

Parades of people
Paper-thin origami
Paper cuts still hurt

For: http://haiku-heights.blogspot.com/

Fancy-Free Exchange

So what,
So tell me
About Ohio.
Love memories that other people narrate,
Love memories that sting
Fling back the heavy curtain–
Fling shut the curtain from feelings sore-stung
By phantoms un-natural young–
So what,
So tell me
About Ohio.
More

On the Plus Side

Photo by Eliana Anthony

Two masses of unequal proportions
Ascend a hill with a slope of thirty-seven degrees
The wind blows at a steady four miles an hour to the first quadrant
After approximately two pi minutes of uphill trajectory
They reach a point eight elevenths from the trilateral peak
Here they release from their load nine pounds of drag
And transform parallel ascension to linear descending
Subtract friction to an asymptote of terminal velocity
Minimize visibility to one meter
Reduce decibels exponentially by the common logarithm of the ratio of two readings
Two masses three sevenths the size of the former
Amble in a perpendicular fashion at an unsteady pace of two point five miles per hour
White fractals disguise the collision course
The hill undulates first convex then concave
Four figures remain unscathed
Half ignorant their lives were saved
Wholly alive with wide positive pearly parabolas displayed

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