A haiku this ain’t
Even though the syllables
Tumble properly
A very, very short sonnet
6
A haiku this ain’t
Even though the syllables
Tumble properly
Category Archives: Poems
Cicada rhapsody
Summer dies reluctantly
Last call for crickets
Singing halfheartedly
Certainty comes only of ignorance
In such wilderness as this
Each hand grasps another
Until it all tumbles in unison
Ah, the carnage
In the style of exiles
So self-consciously
We sail on the edge of winter
Caesar’s exile
This is in response to WE DRINK BECAUSE WE’RE POETS Thursday Poetry Prompt #19: Alternative History.
So what if Caesar
Had a seizure
And stayed in Gaul
After all?
Would the Senate have awakened
And poor old Pompey have forsaken,
Or just knuckled under
The vicious boy wonder?
The Republic, I’m aware
Was on its way out of there
But perhaps there was a chance
For Cicero to dance,
Not on air, as was his fate,
But at Rome’s eternal gate,
As the choice of free elections
(oops, I forgot his predilections!)
The Word
A Sunday morning meditation.
And Jesus said, “Eat me, and
In holy oneness I will reside in you.
I am your grisly lamb, which you have conjured
From your love of blood
And carnal loathing.
“Look, you can be called holy
Even in your cannibal lust.
You can turn love on its tail
And pour scorn from its spigots.
“For I am made in your image and likeness.
Did you not know me from my scent?
I have said it: I am the son of man.
I am your loving spawn.”
Late summer haiku
The night suspended
Hangs like a paper lantern
A whiff of jasmine?
exiles child 