Glistening beads gather
eyes narrow slits
work never ends
Wednesday, April 30, 2014
Tuesday, April 29, 2014
#132 - Wild Ones
I close my eyes to the world around
Imagine bumbledrums beating while
and Scree skating on seas of gossamer silk.
My Child ask why I smile,
as Winged Wumpies play tag in my beard.
She too can see the sticking slinkstone and rasping rumbles,
and we laugh as we share the looks of those who forget.
Never stop seeing the vanishing yowies or hearing the yaps of galumphing groops.
When I cannot see them, I 'll know that I'm lost, and only my daughter will bring me my thoughts.
Imagine bumbledrums beating while
and Scree skating on seas of gossamer silk.
My Child ask why I smile,
as Winged Wumpies play tag in my beard.
She too can see the sticking slinkstone and rasping rumbles,
and we laugh as we share the looks of those who forget.
Never stop seeing the vanishing yowies or hearing the yaps of galumphing groops.
When I cannot see them, I 'll know that I'm lost, and only my daughter will bring me my thoughts.
Monday, April 28, 2014
#128 - Heat
Iced Tea, lemon,
beads of water collect,
countless thirsts quenched.
Warning:
There is no poetry past this point. You have been warned.
Today is April 28. Today is was hot...for once. I am used to heat, or I was once, but now I just do not know. I once was told that women do not sweat, rather glisten. Well, I am neither a woman nor do I glisten: I sweat. Today was the first day of the year to that I have done so.
I am at loss. For those who know me in person it will come to a shock that I do not know how to respond to my current surroundings. I care about what I do in my real world job, but nothing really matters and nothing really changes. I do not wish to give up, but continuing down this path I chose for myself is insanity.
I know not where I am and care not to look for an escape.
Maybe I am being overly dramatic, but seeing that I am at a apex in my current life, I wonder...does this happen to everyone? I am to young for a mid-life crisis and too old to feel this way.
Comment if you know what to do, because I can use any help that I can.
Till tomorrow,
Thomas
beads of water collect,
countless thirsts quenched.
Warning:
There is no poetry past this point. You have been warned.
Today is April 28. Today is was hot...for once. I am used to heat, or I was once, but now I just do not know. I once was told that women do not sweat, rather glisten. Well, I am neither a woman nor do I glisten: I sweat. Today was the first day of the year to that I have done so.
I am at loss. For those who know me in person it will come to a shock that I do not know how to respond to my current surroundings. I care about what I do in my real world job, but nothing really matters and nothing really changes. I do not wish to give up, but continuing down this path I chose for myself is insanity.
I know not where I am and care not to look for an escape.
Maybe I am being overly dramatic, but seeing that I am at a apex in my current life, I wonder...does this happen to everyone? I am to young for a mid-life crisis and too old to feel this way.
Comment if you know what to do, because I can use any help that I can.
Till tomorrow,
Thomas
#127 - Birds
I heard the bird, but never saw
the spiraling wings of effervescence.
The twitters and twerps, the clicks and calls
announce the world its conscience.
the spiraling wings of effervescence.
The twitters and twerps, the clicks and calls
announce the world its conscience.
Sunday, April 27, 2014
#125 - Rainfall
tin tapping rainfalls
elicit cries of joy
from puddle-jumping child
Warning: There is no poetry past this point. You have been warned.
Today is April 27, 2014. Wow, it feels weird to come back to this after my self-imposed 4 month hiatus. For the last four months it has felt like I offered the world my hand in friendship and it spat in my mouth.
My wife has been very supportive and my daughter, L, who is three, doesn't understand but loves me anyways. Children are great like that.
Where I live, rain is a common occurrence. It doesn't downpour, but it will have a constant rain for hours/days/weeks. It's datable whether it is suicide inducing or not, but for my daughter, she loves it. She gets to splash in puddles, get her daddy wet, and just have fun. I on the other hand just get cold.
But, alas, that is me getting older. I remember when I was her age, yes I can remember that far back, the feeling of the rain storm. Of hearing the tapping of rain on the tin roofs. Of the smell of rain on cut grass and once, watching the rain come down and racing it with my father to the store, the rain falling on the cement behind us. This was one of the few times in my childhood that I saw my father laugh in childish glee.
The rain doesn't do that here, its more like a cloud that is apathetic and just settles in one place, but my daughter enjoys it none the less.
I miss that glee. Where did it go? Have I really changed that much or is it the condition of us all to lose the happiness in small things...I don't know. I think that is why I love haiku so much. Small, simple, without deceit.
If anyone out there on the intarwebs has a thought, please comment. I would love to read it.
On another note, I was considering, once a week, to read, record, and post my haiku as a downloadable mp3 file. What do you think? Leave your thoughts in the comments below.
Starting tomorrow I will be posting multiple poems a day. I will reach 365 poems by the anniversary of this blog.
Till tomorrow,
Thomas
elicit cries of joy
from puddle-jumping child
Warning: There is no poetry past this point. You have been warned.
Today is April 27, 2014. Wow, it feels weird to come back to this after my self-imposed 4 month hiatus. For the last four months it has felt like I offered the world my hand in friendship and it spat in my mouth.
My wife has been very supportive and my daughter, L, who is three, doesn't understand but loves me anyways. Children are great like that.
Where I live, rain is a common occurrence. It doesn't downpour, but it will have a constant rain for hours/days/weeks. It's datable whether it is suicide inducing or not, but for my daughter, she loves it. She gets to splash in puddles, get her daddy wet, and just have fun. I on the other hand just get cold.
But, alas, that is me getting older. I remember when I was her age, yes I can remember that far back, the feeling of the rain storm. Of hearing the tapping of rain on the tin roofs. Of the smell of rain on cut grass and once, watching the rain come down and racing it with my father to the store, the rain falling on the cement behind us. This was one of the few times in my childhood that I saw my father laugh in childish glee.
The rain doesn't do that here, its more like a cloud that is apathetic and just settles in one place, but my daughter enjoys it none the less.
I miss that glee. Where did it go? Have I really changed that much or is it the condition of us all to lose the happiness in small things...I don't know. I think that is why I love haiku so much. Small, simple, without deceit.
If anyone out there on the intarwebs has a thought, please comment. I would love to read it.
On another note, I was considering, once a week, to read, record, and post my haiku as a downloadable mp3 file. What do you think? Leave your thoughts in the comments below.
Starting tomorrow I will be posting multiple poems a day. I will reach 365 poems by the anniversary of this blog.
Till tomorrow,
Thomas
Saturday, April 26, 2014
What Happened?
Today is April 26, 2014.
Sorry everyone. I had an sudden and personnally crippling(emotional, not physically or mentally) event occur and I am just now regrouping. I do have some of the poems from the missing days, but I feel like I should start a new. Refocus my interests and what this blog is about.
Shortly, new daily posts will begin again and I will rejoin the poetry community. I am also considering a story telling blog where I will work in creative non-fiction and tell stories about my childhood and my grandmothers childhood growing up in poverty in the Southern United States.
I am interested if anyone would find that worth their time.
Till soon,
T
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