Category: poetry

the fox

half dog, half cat

with a smidgen of rat

he’s hard to find

and photograph

we list his crimes

in nursery rhymes

from sour grapes

to fox in sox

he makes us laugh–

that sly ol’ fox

I’m reminded of that riddle of the goose, the fox, and the corn, and in case you haven’t heard it, it goes like this: a farmer has to get a goose, a fox, and a sack of corn across a river, but his boat is so small, he can only transport one at a time. Without leaving the fox alone with the goose, or the goose alone with the corn, how does he do it?

–photo by me

grin and bear it

what do you do when you’re out for some air,

and suddenly you’re face to face with a bear?

please do not flee

he’s faster than you

do not climb a tree

he’s a good climber too

and do not play dead

or it may become true

despite what you read

there’s nothing to do

but send up a prayer, and give up those plans;

when facing a bear, it’s out of your hands.

–photo by me

The Road to Destiny (archives)

The great white limousine

Rolled down the road to Destiny,

And in it sat four revered men

Of great authority.

Religion and Tradition graced

The seat that faced the rear,

While in the back with Science

Sat Philosophy so near.

Now when the road became so

Rough that forward progress slowed,

Philosophy said, “Gentlemen,

Let’s try another road.”

“I think he’s right,” said Science,

Shuffling papers on his lap,

“I’ve been collecting data,

And I’ve made a little map.”

Religion would not hear of it,

“‘Tis blasphemy!” said he,

“For God himself has set us on

This road to Destiny.”

“Religion’s right,” Tradition chimed,

“It’s been agreed upon.”

And as they argued endlessly,

The limousine rolled on.

And in the end, their driver,

Who was named Necessity,

Would find that he would have to

Choose the road to Destiny.

–Photo by me

it’s over

back in the spring of the year

there were hundreds of pelicans here

and tourists would flock

to this gorge of gray rock

and everyone was of good cheer.

but now it’s the end of july

the river has almost run dry

and all that was here

is gone till next year–

summer camp’s over. goodbye.

–photo by me

Ghost Ship (haibun)

I can’t believe I’ve stumbled upon an old, abandoned house out here in the woods. Surrounded by a sea of wildflowers and encroaching trees, it reminds me of a great ghost ship on the stormy main. The tentacles of a giant sea monster have wrapped around her, and are ever pulling her down. Some day, she’ll go under.

when old houses fall

their delicious mysteries

go under with them

–Photo by me

tree frog

the tiny chameleon tree frog

blends into the forest motif

as a gray little bump on a log

or a green little lump on a leaf,

and nobody knows where he goes

whenever he’s not on the ground,

but equipped with his suction-cup toes,

he’s sure to be hanging around.

–photo by me