My photo
Cape Cod, United States
__I see with young eyes, an old mirror. Here, I hope to offer... as I see.

Saturday, August 27, 2016

Departure 20
__This... was scribbled in November of 2002. _m

SUBWAY HERO
                          
I had been there many times before,
                           And shrank in the clash of it all;
Breathing in the smells and sights
                           Of this cavern, this grimy hall.

The stretch of countless rushing trains,
                           Burned rubber, and electric sweat;
Pulsing through this living cell,
                           In foulest dust beset.

Above the grinding, toneless clatter,
                           A lonely voice was heard;
Cutting through this screeching din,
                           Saying but a single word.

"Repent," he coughed and blubbered through
                          His spirit sodden lips;
A broken, beaten, filthy beast,
                          That spat through lathered drips.

"Repent," he wheezed, and again that word,
                          Echoed through this oily hall;
And every step he took my way,
                          Surged my memory's crawl.

"Repent," he neighed as he reached my feet,
                          Whiskey bleeding from each eye;
He caught my gaze, then hid his face,
                          Then spewed his crippled sigh.

"Repent," he mumbled, then spilled away,
                          Wretched, reeking and worn;
Siding off in greasy steps,
                          He vanished, within his scorn.

Stunned, I followed those sodden eyes,
                         For what was there was known;
And I listened for that single word
                          "Repent," this drunkard's drone.

I searched and searched through noise and filth,
                          To find this wasted soul;
I rummaged every crack and den,
                         And every wretched hole.

I found my kin, in the muck and lice,
                          Curled in a fetal ball;
And I prayed he seemed again to me,
                          As he did when I was small.

He waved me off, and spat out words,
                          Preaching me in err;
That I should turn and walk away,
                          And leave him to his lair.

Not a brother, he said to me
                          Don't sorrow for my fall;
Go you back... to your life of ease,
                          I'm no brother after all.

Go quickly to your wife and young,
                         And leave me to my cave;
A rotting soul I am, you've seem,
                         Just searching for my grave.

Against my will, I honored his,
                         Stealing courage, I stepped my length;
And I heard his anxious, whispered plea;
                         Brother, leave with me your strength.
                                    _
I've returned, uncounted times,
                         To this subway's sour gloom;
To search for him, within this beast,
                         Before he found his tomb.

But not the word, nor sight I'd see
                         Within this cavern's sore;
Of brother or beast, or broken man,
                         That wasted soul once more.

Then one day, in horror's grasp, "Repent,"
                         I heard, and I spun about;
To a brilliant light in my brother's eyes,
                         That beast... he had cast out!

When last we met, his shining words,
                         You gave as I did plea;
You took your leave, but left your strength,
                         And with it, I burst free!

This was my grave, this subway vault,
                         But hope, in your leaving fell;
To the strength you left, as you stepped away,
                         Your faith, has fought my spell.

I pass that faith in tearless fight,
                         To my brothers barrowed near;
That they may broach their hollow hell,
                         To slay that beast of fear.
                          _ _

When I return to this evil place,
                        To search within its reek;
I listen for his single word, his hymn
                         Is the sound I seek.

                             And

"Repent," bursts through this mortal clamor,
                         And with his messaged call;
My Brother is again to me... the hero,
                         He was... when I was small.

_m

                        

Tuesday, August 23, 2016

Just two obstructions to finding the truth. This, from 2011

__ Politics is a mound of sand, and its truth, a single grain within that hill; our hope is to find one grain of hidden truth.

we seek
that single grain of truth
winds rise


__ Politics, is a river that deposits myths on the far shore, and fantasies on the near, while its truth rushes onward to deeper seas.

truth of lies
in the roil of tidal waves
we swimmers


 

Friday, August 12, 2016

__ There is always something to surge our thoughts forward_!   This,  a slight rewrite of something I posted here during August_  of 2010.

flat pond
this summer stands still
fish rings

Monday, August 8, 2016


life's breeze
carries this butterfly
new flowers

Thursday, August 4, 2016

__A student says, I have much to learn;  a master responds,  I have learned... how little I know.   We learn to learn.

yesterdays' mind
searches the earth and clouds
tomorrows

Monday, August 1, 2016

__Recently, I thought I had seen two TV shows entitled 'Big Bother;' I was incorrect, I had actually watched two political conventions.  But, as academic politicos continually imply, my ineptitude is due to my lower intellect, that of the proletariat. Perhaps the Orwellian era has arrived_?

the first lie
is the final truth
they that say

 

Thursday, July 28, 2016

__Eight years ago today, this was posted on WHW.
Tiger swallowtail, a butterfly; the new, the old.

tiger swallowtail
floats on this old suns breeze
the flowers

Sunday, July 24, 2016

The pound / number sign,  was hand written before the invention the typewriter and its keyboard. What is a typewriter_?

crossroads
in technologies jungle
hashtag

Tuesday, July 19, 2016

__This Cinquain was originally posted on 10/27/2010, it may well fit today.

Cold hands,
blood of worry 
flows true from yours to mine.
When this crisis comes to closure,
warm smiles.

Sunday, July 17, 2016

__Silly perhaps, but one often wonders to where... moral reality has gone. _m

__I was a ten year old Cub Scout aspiring to become a Boy Scout, when I asked my Mom and Dad if I could begin to carry a pocket knife. At that time we all knew and valued the differences between tools and weapons, the hammer,  a saw,  an axe,  or a knife, and on and on, and on. In a short period of time,  I was given the nod from Dad and Mom, and received their approval to carry that tool; that was sixty-four years ago.

deep questions
in the forest of the young
a broad trail

__I became that 'Scout' and carried my pocket knives through these many years.  But now, as things are in the "crippling days," before I leave my home place, I'm sure to set my pocket knife on the 'dry-sink'... pedantically I leave it home.  Paranoia seeps in, as I'd not wish to be seen using that tool,  then replacing that knife to my pocket.  I could easily be charged with the feloniously concealing of a harmful and deadly weapon. Paranoia sires Pedanticism!

this trail narrows
in moral reality
history lost

Wednesday, July 13, 2016

__Other pathways;  carried pollen that recreates, the steeping of honey. 

sun dried blooms
they dart to sweeter blossoms
honey bees

Monday, July 4, 2016

__On all days, but simply noted on this day -Independence Day-,  better tomorrows to all that guard. _m

independence
supports our strength of union
each guard

Wednesday, June 29, 2016

__A walk among the trees, natures grasp.

braided trails
twist within these forest trees
the woven vines
 

Monday, June 27, 2016

As the sunsets move toward__ a tomorrow sunrise,  the tiger lilies wait. 

tiger lilies
imitate this sunset
soft breeze

Thursday, June 23, 2016

__Of the obverse, there are times when one must remain silent; stepping aside to the reverse, more becomes less.

an owl watches
clasped quietly to a limb
this world

Monday, June 20, 2016

__The stars spilled into the sky from this now empty crescent moon, and the night has filled the moon's emptiness; please imagine.

empty moon
this night sky fills its hollow
spilled stars

Thursday, June 16, 2016

Ahh-Chooo_!
__Either we are engulfed in deeper pollen this 'year', or my added 'years', have amplified my 'new' allergy. Smiles_!

small sneeze
as pollen dusts the flowers
a butterfly

Tuesday, June 14, 2016

__As our nights slowly lighten into mornings,  there  are points in that waning darkness where we may all have heard this:  birds that call to the sun,  with pleas that it will rise.   _m

morning  jays
call to this warm day light
sunrise

Sunday, June 12, 2016

__06/12/2016                                                          

their rain
will never quench our fire
hearts fuel

Tuesday, June 7, 2016

__Another 'time point' memory recently discovered, and the old photograph helped scribe this new senryu.

black and white
my mother counts my toes
first shoes

Thursday, June 2, 2016

__Moments ago, I posted this as an instant comment on Leslie Moon's fine blog  'Moondust'...  listed in my blog list to the right... a very interesting blog to visit.

as I clutch
my father's old corn-cob
whiffs of yesterday
 

Saturday, May 28, 2016

__Summer wars; as fingers counter attack; the hand slap.  From one of my old scribble books.

mosquito attack
a sharp lance to the nape
five strike

Tuesday, May 24, 2016

__With my inability to properly categorize haiku/senryu within their modernistic senses, I'll simply label this as maiku; some may see it as senryu, while others might call it haiku, and I'm sure many would term this... junk.  Other opinions, supersede mine. 
__Time's changes are -suddenly seen- as indicated below:

old log cabin
hidden in these ancient woods
a satellite dish

Saturday, May 21, 2016

__Could the cat's purr harmonize with the mosquitoes' hum?                                                        
day close
in the mosquitoes tune 
this sleepy cat 

Saturday, May 14, 2016

__The Humming Birds and the Lilacs; the meeting.                                                                          
humming birds
hover in this lilac bush
the wings blossom

Wednesday, May 11, 2016

__Musical summer night,  a few years ago.                                                                                          
night rain
this drummer on the pond
frogs' cymbals

Friday, May 6, 2016

__Night sounds.                                                                                                                                                    
a dog's bark
between the crows' caws 
corn fields 

Monday, May 2, 2016

__Time now, that I return to fewer words as I follow this well known saying, 'Less is ... .' _m

train whistle
wheels thunder on the tracks
smell of rain

Tuesday, April 26, 2016

__Breezes, as they cross the meadows green; meadows, rising as the tides, a tree's  spring leaves. _m

tidal breeze 
that rolls across this meadow
green sea

as buds burst
leaves stretch to the sun
a cat's purr

Friday, April 22, 2016

__It seems from what I've seen of late, that I should no longer define the differences between haiku and senryu as I view them; open windows.

rain fall
in this warm wind sky
soft songs

Monday, April 18, 2016

__Outdoor venders, warmer days. Can we imagine how many pigeons may have pecked at a shiny dime_?  

lost coins 
within this vender cartway
pigeons strut 

Wednesday, April 13, 2016

__A picnic lunch at Windmill Point as we watched the changing tides converge in Hull Gut, and those... sleepy gulls.  Tides and gulls act the same during any season; no kigo. 

clashing tides
they churn in envious jousts
sleepy gulls

Sunday, April 10, 2016

Of course, the pen_  is not a sty.

as sap flows
stories cling to each branch
the birds pen

Tuesday, April 5, 2016

__The rains end, flowers and butterflies _m

this final drop
a pool of sun filled rings
swallowtails

Sunday, April 3, 2016

__These early 'forsythia flakes', as seen through a cloud of 'snowblossoms'. Well that's backwards, and yes the flowers are there... but it's snowing!
__I'll try again, 'forsythia blossoms', as seen behind this cloud of 'snowflakes'. Those sharp yellow blooms just seemed to spear their way through that snowfall. Smiles_!
_m

forsythia spears
with their sharp yellow blooms
a snow shower

Thursday, March 31, 2016

__Life's bread; the baker, the oven, the crumbs...  so much more behind the crust of that, that we see. _m

beyond the crust
its truths lie in this bread
the oven

Tuesday, March 29, 2016

__In the summer light, a spider web is seen as a barrier to many;  the web's woven central core, its hub, I see as a virtual 'spider eye'. _m

in the weir
this webs vital union
spider eye

Wednesday, March 23, 2016

__Seasons change. This, from one of my notebooks, was scribbled during  3/22/2014:

ship sail
tacks to warmer winds
a bird

Thursday, March 17, 2016

__In silence and with one leg retracted, Gulls stand on their other leg to rest, as shallow as their rest may be. To test the depth of their rest, toss out a bit of that donut in your hand, then you will see and hear...  "The Flock Frolics!"  _m

herring gulls
to their warm breeze doze 
I toss a crumb

Sunday, March 13, 2016

This was first posted to this blog, on March 30 2009.
__A mug at the Pub_?

rainy night
old men boast of deeds
never done

Friday, March 11, 2016

the mind
becomes a story's oven
rivers flow
 

Tuesday, March 8, 2016

__Trees search for spring;   the vast fluctuation of temperatures,  that push-pull,  is the tree sap's  heart. _m

cold to hot
as sap veins fill
red buds

Sunday, March 6, 2016

Wow the gas balloons,  just my view of todays political news.  Smiles. _m

gas balloons
rise till they burst
a days news
 

Thursday, March 3, 2016

__Seasons change, the birds write. 

as sap flows
stories begin on each branch 
birds write

Monday, February 29, 2016

__The foghorn -sounds in- to help.  _m

lighthouse
slices this deepened haze
the foghorn

Wednesday, February 24, 2016

Another... 33
__So often, a harmonic recorder quartet.

recorders
gentile breath's fingers create
windsong

a zither
joins this harmony 
soft quintet 

Sunday, February 21, 2016

__I am a Student of haiku, of any ten I have written there may be -one- of humble quality. I shall become a Master, when among those ten there are -eleven- worthy of praise.

cardinals
their sun song fills
longer days

__At the feeder, as the days lengthen, spring's taunt. _m

Tuesday, February 16, 2016

Strange.
__Here, two days ago, it was -10 F  (-23C); today it reached +55 F  (+12C), one wonders.

the climate
minus ten to fifty plus
politics  

Sunday, February 14, 2016

I'm a day late with this -overused- yearly post.
__This blog began February 13th of 2009, a lucky Friday,  and this is my initial post. I thank you all my friends_!

snow fills
this cabins shattered bones
a broken tea cup  

Monday, February 8, 2016

__Soon we'll be seeing  the 'home-side' crocuses bursting through what remains of our icy snow, and that... a warming thought.

night snow
below this last icicle
a crocus

Tuesday, February 2, 2016

__My mind is my antique shop, my porridge  filled with the worthy memories of these valuable trinkets of the past. Trinkets,  that I see as trophies.  _m

antique shop
in this porridge of my mind
old trinkets

Wednesday, January 27, 2016

__I am the splash that missed this funnel's gaping mouth; free, and not locked into this bottle of someone elses preset rules, I trickle down this glassn' side, and evaporate into my own adventure.

a free drop
travels its chosen path
the bird flys 

Thursday, January 21, 2016

__This is a recent comment left at a site I visit often, Tinywords;  the lantern on that caboose,  is the last viewpoint of this night's train. _m


the last train
leaves a darkened depot
its lantern

Monday, January 18, 2016

__A sound aroused me last night, and my "newly awakened" thought was that, that clamor was the thunder of a summer storm.  Reality quickly recovered,  the thunder was the rumble of a distant snowplow. 

thunder storm
rumbles through this night
snowplows 

Saturday, January 16, 2016

Each day another chance,  another turn of the key.

on time
its pendulum still swings
the key 

Wednesday, January 13, 2016

__On and under the feeders, the snowbirds flit; black birds seem,  as punctuation in the snow.

juncos frolic
in this fresh fallen snow
dashes 

Saturday, January 9, 2016

__Each sunrise, an addition to your larder. _m

a new day
adds to the chimes
open diary
 

Monday, January 4, 2016

__Oooo!  Troublesome near and on the Cape; we were home before the problems. I so often think that >snow is a smaller problem< then some of the drivers.  

new snow
floats through this quiet night
train whistle

Monday, December 28, 2015

__This... I left as a comment on a friends blog nearly five years ago, here its a slight re-write.


empty moon
a night sky fills its hollow
the crescent 

Wednesday, December 23, 2015

To you all, best wishes for a grand family Christmas_!  Today...  the eve of Christmas Eve.
__The family values of Christmas... far exceed the values of commerce.

warm words
the family gathers
eve of Eve
 

Sunday, December 13, 2015

__The sunset shadows; this, a slim adjustment made to my imaginational comment I left at Iris's good haiku blog. The number of "S-es" now seems less cumbersome than I first thought. Ssmiless!
_m

sleepy swan
swims across my chest
sunset

Saturday, December 5, 2015

Another... 33    A comment I left at Moondust,  her fine poetic blog. 

the sunrays
burn a path through winter
time turns

we have time
gladly shared with each other
the sunrays

Wednesday, November 18, 2015

__From my scribble book of 11-15-15.

the mind steeps
as does this well aged cider
bubbles rise

Sunday, November 15, 2015

__The victims are the Hallowed. The sufferers  and their families are the takers of all such terror_ each a giver of life, and an emblem for whom we must all strive; strongly we seek worldly goodness.  _m


Dry gasp,
this choke of care;
our wrenching tears to the
victims of that primitive rage.
Hallowed.

Friday, November 6, 2015

Hidden thoughts. _m

a final stone
on this forest wall
brown ferns

       And / Or

blooms climb 
to this pyramid's  peak
the first stone
 

Tuesday, November 3, 2015

A haibun written this spring.

__ This evening's stroll at pond side with our walking sticks at hand; we speak in silent glances. Our nodding heads point to swans on the far side, and our smiles find a Great Blue, slowly wading into this watery sunset. Eyes point to an otter leading its swim path wake, and an owl that awaits the moonrise. A raccoon looking our way, tilts its head.

infants rise
within natures time
eyes value

Friday, October 30, 2015

Trick of Treet! 
__This is a "re-scribble" from my post of October first, during 2014.  We've lit the candle again. Smiles_!

this silly pumpkin
its face of fanticies deep
candle smiles

Tuesday, October 27, 2015

Hold to your visions and dreams, and they will not evaporate in life's wind.

vision
this instant's wisp
a rain drop

Wednesday, October 21, 2015

Another... 33
__All Hallows Eve will soon arrive with its mystic and wavering, candle flamed pumpkin eyes... that will search through skies much darker than a crow.   _m

darkened glare
unseen by questioning eyes
pythoness

pumpkin eyes
search this crow dark night
candles flame

Sunday, October 18, 2015

__Ideograms. Just moments ago, I left this as a comment at >Zen Speug<,  John McDonald's  good blog. Here, though, some slight adjustments have been made . _m

fallen leaves
symbols of this empty tree
moons shadow

Wednesday, October 7, 2015

__One thing becomes another;  I am the sand. _m

listless stone
sculptured by the endless tides
this sand

Tuesday, September 29, 2015

__Last night, as we watched the moon's eclipse,  this thought arose; "the leaf, the moon, the season." _m

one red leaf
settles on this silent pond
an eclipse

Friday, September 11, 2015

__For Jackie's friend; his paw print seen.  D&K

paw print
on his trail of rest
amore

Tuesday, September 8, 2015

__The greatest profit from your creativity, is humble satisfaction.

your art
in its creativity
sole profit 

Monday, August 31, 2015

__This haiku was an instant's response to Lorraine's post of August 28th,  visit her blog and you'll  not be disappointed.   (that link is to the right... LL)  _m

this bracelet
circles nature's wrist
her bouquet

Thursday, August 27, 2015

__Now, this is a rare rewrite I applied to one of my posts that originated during August, 2009; it was our walk around a nearby cranberry bog.

goldenrod
aside this dusty path
bee's sneeze

Tuesday, August 25, 2015

__In these summer months, often the passing clouds will splatter just to let us know they are there.  Kigo_?  I do not use a Saijiki.    _m

eight drops
from this passing cloud
natures clock

Friday, August 21, 2015

Politicians debate. 
__My guess ?  There is no need to explain the function of that moderator's plastic bag. _m

at a debate
this arbiter's plastic bag
walking the dogs
 

Tuesday, August 18, 2015

Could the figures below represent,   " Half-tags "_?  Smiles!   _m
//           =         +      

still moth
this nature's trampoline
a spider web

Thursday, August 13, 2015

My post here,  of August 17, of 2009.
__A Student says, I have much to learn;
__a Master says, I have learned how little I know.

today
I search the sky and clouds
tomorrow

Tuesday, August 11, 2015

__We dissect the " I-ism "  shams of the pompous politicians that sound so alike -tick, tock, tick- and we learn as we peer into, and beyond their fogs.  _m

discovery
beyond each clocks tick
the fog

Friday, August 7, 2015

__Each night, the moon and the bats streak across the pond; often the stars dart away... to escape the hunter.    _m

pond bats
hunters in the night
moon streaks

Monday, August 3, 2015

__Ah, this old tree and the stories it might tell.    The ink ?   _m

sap flows
such stories in each branch 
a bird's pen

Thursday, July 30, 2015

__The vintner,  a farmer of the vines. This, from October 2012. _m

a season's stews
steep within their casks
vines harvest

Monday, July 27, 2015

__As we grow forward, we often need to shed a little of our past;  our forests' hidden stone walls.  _m

queen anne's lace
beside this forest's stone wall
a snake skin 
 

Saturday, July 11, 2015

__A silent wake,  that noiseless link to home;  less is more, it is said.

full sail
on this warmer wind
the silent wake

Tuesday, July 7, 2015

__ What was in Pandora's Jar_?

kept water
spent on a family's need
the final drops

Monday, July 6, 2015

__ Often,  an effortless nod is all that's needed to affirm appreciation. _m

simple nods
note the faithful views
time's faces

Saturday, July 4, 2015

Happy Independence Day_!
__Ahhh, such grins that grow on our children's faces, a sight and sense that we must forever preserve...  as it was.

this night's child
within the smiling eyes
fireworks
 

Wednesday, July 1, 2015

Watching the storm.

gifts of rain
seed to bud to flower's bloom
humming birds
 

Tuesday, June 30, 2015

__In  their  season, it seems  they  are  always  'on guard'  along  the  country  roadways,  fence lines,  and  cottage  fronts.   Salute_!  

in their ranks
the tiger lily armies
butterfly wind

Sunday, June 28, 2015

Often they flower,  in  such  hidden  places.

sunrise lights
this darkened forest pathway
a lady slipper

Thursday, June 25, 2015

Often, a house cat's deepest rival, can be your dust mop

with arched back
a cat strikes its fearless foe 
this dust mop

Monday, June 22, 2015

__Short summer nights;  now,  as  bats forage the night sky (skies?) for sustenance,   is  night  'flies'   a  noun,  or  is  night,  'flies'  an intransitive verb?

shorter dark
the bats check their watches
night flies
 

Friday, June 19, 2015

This haiku, a recent comment at  Gillena's "Lunch Break" blog.  _m
__Happy Father's Day_!  To every Mom and their children, to my wife, my children and grand children, thanks for putting up with us... all these years_!  Smiles_!

warm rain
blurs the trees reflections 
pond side eyes
 

Wednesday, June 17, 2015

Comment,  left at Zen Speug. (slight edit)   Nature's Opera is... all seasons, thus, senryu.

with hunters
this cast of natures opera
the prey

Monday, June 15, 2015

__ I saw a treadle operated potter's wheel that used the wind as an alternate power source.   The builder's cat dozed on its still spindle, and my imagination quickly spun this into my scribble book.   _m

potters wheel
on its wind driven spindle
the dizzy cat