Pain

A Haibun of Shelter

Written for dVerse Haibun Monday: Give Me Shelter, 8/26/22.

Competitive Cooperation

Soldiers, farmers, and lovers all seek the same shelter. Protection from nature’s miseries is ubiquitously sought and taken. Adapt or die. Respect not given wisely results in lessons learned only for brief periods.

Her glorious beauty shows in the warm sunrise that follows the night’s frightful, unsheltered story. The singing bird allows for the climax of thunder as from lightening, all seek cover. Even snakes warm in the sun.

Rain or dry seasons, Nature judges the foolish lover, the seeker of warmth without cover, harshly. Live and learn; learn and live.

respect nature first
awesome beauty is the beast
take cover or die

Look both ways when seeking escape or shelter.
Better to mind the gaps and wait for the storm to pass
than to win the latest Darwin Award.

Click here to find more Haibun.

Sammi’s Weekender #274 (opera)

Click this opera thingy to find links to more operatic writings

For Opera’s Sake

Poets find inspiration in
music
I do,
not opera
or classical,
Whitman did.
Likewise Nazim Hikmet,
Dickenson, Bishop, Doty,
and the barstool bard,
Charles Bukowski
who wrote,
“To The Whore Who
Took My Poems,” and
said, “opera sickened me.”

A romantic, Hank was,
by some accounting,
a perv, drunk, dreamer,
a dirty old man
and misogynist
(he claimed not)—a lover
of women and classical
music.
Buk’s been saluted by
diversity like
U2, Red Hot Chili Peppers,
Nirvana, Bush, the Cars,
and Concrete Blonde.

I’ve been
accused
of being mused by
Bukowski
and his oeuvre.

Look both ways for the sin of admiring the imperfect,
the toil of the briar patch, the desire for love and passion.
Mind the gaps lest we stumble into the First Self-righteous Church.

This is the poem, “To The Whore Who Took My Poems” … done operatically (a bit risqué). My apologies if this youtube does not work for you.

Monday’s Rune: Special Times

Photo by and © Dale Rogerson

Candlelight Creates Memories.

It happens
like this
it all comes together
too seldom,
so brief
but when
it comes,
we feel it
forever.
It’s more
than love,
family,
sisterhood;
life has enough
pain and suffering
and sadness.

Forget that—
remember this—
time always was
always will be
just because when
it’s like this
it’s cosmic.

No
everyday thing.
That wouldn’t work.

The right people,
the right time and place
discovering high levels
of special happiness.

We need to do that
more often—
again soon.

One bottle passed through
snifters near dripping candles
lighting empty chairs
reflections
light and dark
happy and sad
yin and yang
simultaneous synergy
of family energy.

Look both ways to find soul in family.
Mind the gaps. Set the stage. Live the love.

Sammi’s Weekender #272 (dazzling)

Click this pic for more dazzling 53-word wonders.

Candled Darkness

She dazzled—
blindingly brilliant.

I was humbled, dim and dull—
overwhelmed by sadness and shame.

Yet, in her glitter and gleam,
She loved my blackened heart,

kept me close, when other
men were blinded by her glare

She smiled.

Au contraire, mon amour.
Darker nights make brighter stars,
the moon shines even more.

Look both ways but listen with an open heart.
Mind the gaps for that’s where stars shine brightest.

Caption me.

Epistolary Expository Prose

Howdy, Y’all,

I think the a/c has been running since May. It’s August now, driving hotly through a summer of record temperatures and daily threats of more Texas power grid snafus. I just missed being born in this horrible month, but I know several who are so saddled. Yes. I should be grateful. Maybe I am, but.

I’m also somewhat non-clinically depressed and worried, not about me even though if I ain’t dead in ten years, I will be in twelve and if I leave the world better, will it be good enough?

Fourteen billion eyes, ears, and feet, for now; and I only ask for a couple dozen or so to be alright. Go ahead. Ask. How’s that workin’ for me?

Half of humanity seems nuts and hates the other half who hate back. There’s a hypothetical, conjectural god who seems completely cavalier about it all and is dismissal about unbridled slavery, too. They insist I stock credence and believe. What? Why?

The most important thing, apparently, comes conveniently after, and it’s not heaven. It’s hell. That’s where August takes all three-hundred and sixty-five days and nothing was last or is next and some guy keeps asking, what if this is as good as it gets? Ever?

Sweet dreams are made of this,

Amen to that,

Bill

PS: Everybody’s looking (both ways) for something. Mind the gaps for what some of them want to do. Who am I to disagree?

The Eurythmics have an interesting history.

Sammi’s Weekender #271 (sibilance)

Click the graphic for more 28-word takes on the prompt word at Sammi’s blog.

 

The young, attractive, angry suicide survivor glanced at her phone before reciting

an angry poem in contralto voice which obscured nervousness,

each sibilant rapidly voiced in pitiful pain.

As you look into their eyes, look both ways when they tell their story.
Mind the gaps for hidden meanings in of the human condition.

Sammi’s Weekender #268 (year)

Click the graphic for Sammi’s blog page and links to more 46-word applications of “year.”

Neverending

It’s how I remember the year that she died.
I watched for weeks while she suffered, and I cried.

It made a big impression on me although I was still a young man.
Her life was over—suffering ended. I still do the best I can.

Look both ways year after year.
Mind the gaps as we try to remember, and we try to forget.

My inspiration:

Sammi’s Weekender #266 (flippant)

Click to flip over to Sammi’s blog and more 74-word wonders.

Was it something I said?

Many things I’ve done and not done
which brought me much self-inflicted grief;
like transfers or removals from jobs,

I’ve sat smiling at wrong times,
adulted too young, or the drink I tasted
when I got more than a little bit wasted,
‘twas most often my spectacular speech
that others appreciated the least.

I’m gifted this flippantly waggish tongue
emitting my intently presented voice
speaking a cutting language, exposing
my cantankerously lighthearted snarkastic choice.

Look both ways when words fly like the breath of buzzards.
Mind the gaps and if your gunna do it, go all the way.

Monday’s Rune: Pride Month Poetry

Looking Both Ways

There’s tragedy in America
and over the world today.
One that has always been there
brewing trouble bubbling,
either hidden or ignored.

Without love, honor, and respect
inside and out,
sans pity and pride, compassion, and sacrifice,
we are doomed
to be less than
the best of humanity’s history.

Let nature and nurture battle on,
let knowledge
and wisdom wrestle
with feeling and emotion.

Nature’s questions asked without fear,
safe for all, with courage
to face battles between
sweet dreams of hope
and nightmares of reality.

Ally with truth, with
compassion, without weakness or fear,
with hope to continue
standing with universal rightness.

Look both ways and try, try, try to understand, it’s not magic, man.
Mind the gaps in the human condition as you embrace its diversity.

Note: I will be reading this poem (and others) at the Lark & Owl Booksellers in Georgetown, TX, 30 June 2022 @ 7:30 PM.

Sammi’s Weekender #264 (Picturesque)

Click on the graphic for more 54-word wonders and Sammi’s blog page.

Damn Reality

Here I go again reading
Bukowski’s clear vision voice
poems lacking picturesque pastoral principles,
with plainly different aesthetic dispositions
of attitude nobody loves.

We know that deep inside,
his way is part of us;
part of him, hides in us.
How many ways
can we paint the same picture,
or tell the same story.

Look both ways reading anyone’s poems.
Mind the gaps hiding deep within when writing your own.