I am no Haiku;
I might look like one,
but I assure you, I’m not.
It is a surprise
to ev’ry single person
when a Haiku turns
from quiet and safe
to being a vicious thing –
like a mad tiger.
When you choose Haiku,
be sure you can care for them;
they’re for the long haul.
We passed
like sheeps in the night,
exchanging glances
with no one,
passing comments with the night,
counting the sheeps that passed us, too;
as they glanced our way
and exchanged comments
to the stars that shone, not.
She sells seashells on the Seychelles sea shore…
she used to sell seashells on the Scilly Isles sea shore;
sadly, she stopped selling Scilly Isles shells on the Scilly Isles sea shore,
where she swore she sold several seashells;
but the taxman said she sold many, many more.
When a Haiku dies
there is a time of mourning,
in the afternoon.
If I remember correctly
the last laugher laughs longest;
but, I could be wrong –
memory serves me well,
or not,
as it sees fit.
And, IIRC,
he who hesitates
is lost –
or found,
as my feet touch the ground,
or leave it.
Discarded Haiku
litter the streets of my town;
I add this to them.
“Say Cheese!”
If you’re feeling hungry
at a festival;
and you need a bite to eat,
and you want what’s best of all…
look around – with your eyes,
walk around – with your feet;
and look out for the shocking yellow shack:
“Where is it?
Look! There it is!”
There’s a smiling one out front,
a hard-working crew out back;
they’ll cook you a fine Cheese Toastie,
or a delicious Cheese ‘n’ Mac.
(it really should be, a ‘Mac ‘n’ Cheese’, you see;
but, for a rhyme, that, creates a lack).
And it’s not cheese as you know it,
it’s one hundred percent plant-based;
so no dairy, hairy-faced lies –
and gorgeous they do taste.
And I almost thought I heard them say:
“Our ‘Cheese’ is so cool,
it could almost walk on water!”
and if they didn’t say that, then they oughta.
Posted in Poetry
Tagged #PlantBased, #poetry. #poem, #SayCheese, @ILoveSayCheese, @PortEliotFestival, song
She Walks in Beauty
She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that’s best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes:
Thus mellow’d to that tender light
Which heaven to gaudy day denies.
One shade the more, one ray the less,
Had half impaired the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress,
Or softly lightens o’er her face;
Where thoughts serenely sweet express
How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.
And on that cheek, and o’er that brow,
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
But tell of days in goodness spent,
A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent!
 | Words from a Lentil… on I don’t wanna be a poet no… |
 | Sarvagya on I don’t wanna be a poet no… |
| Words from a Lentil… on I wanna be a poet |
 | fictionspawn Aak on I wanna be a poet |
 | Stine Writing on A Haiku a Day |
