“Twenty-one, today!”
“So, what? It’s sunny, that’s all!”
“It’s the date, Sunshine!!”
“Whoopy-do! Bo-ring!”
“Oh, you are a wet weekend!”
“I certainly am.”
So I walked away.
Thought about the August day;
And what I could do.
I’ll write a poem;
Paint the town a shade of red;
Spend the day in bed.
Go fishing in France;
Learn to waltz and then just dance;
Speak Italian,
Bake a big sponge cake;
Fly – how far; what route to take;
Or walk – it’s safer.
Ride a unicycle;
Or, fall off one in terror;
Cry ‘Wolf!’ In error.
But, where to begin?
If I proceed… will I win?
Turn around and… spin!
I’ll head off this way.
Along ‘this’ route this fine day;
It looks quite okay.
But, I was so wrong.
I fell and sang a sad songs-
In a minor key.
For such is my life;
To try and fall with much strife;
Which is just a rhyme.
Wind-chimes woke me up.
Their soft twinkling melodies
Lit fires in my heart
“There’s nobody here!”
“Nobody but us Chickens!”
“Chickens! Run away!”
And a poem writ,
Is a poem to be shared –
That’s true, isn’t it?
Can a Limerick
Fit itself inside a haiku?
It’s a task to do.
‘Lad’ ‘Crewe’ What to do!’
Talking to girls, smiles and curls;
What would a do-do?
A worthy effort
If I do say so myself –
And you can try it.
Not Shakespeare, granted;
But, Will, he may have approved
Of the fine concept.
And before I go;
I would just like to ask here;
Why is it so cold?
It’s August in name;
But, I could be in Russia,
Where August is cool.
I hope and I pray
That these haiku aren’t too much;
Shall I go away?
Graeme Sandford 