Goodbyes are fickle,
Too long or not long enough,
But this is my stop.


Typhoon 7

Why don’t you come back?
The day is not yet dawning,
The sun has yet to start shining,
And as far as I’m concerned,
There’s no evidence it ever will.
So why not come back to bed?

Why don’t you come back?
Dark grey clouds still cover the sky
Which has been sobbing since yesterday,
And shows no sign of stopping soon.
Mother Nature is under the weather,
So why not call in sick today? Continue reading “Typhoon 7”

Business Trip

The full moon rises,
Glistening like a fresh silver dollar
As Mother Earth lets off steam
And unbuttons her stifling collar
To feel the breeze of the Sun’s departure.

Eagerly I wait at the window
For my moon to come home,
So I can feel the breeze of his sigh
As he sits on his leathery black throne
And watches me with contentment from on high. Continue reading “Business Trip”

Castle by the Sea

The sun was shining on the bay that day,
And in its radiance I thought I saw the way
To my salvation from this, damn lonely, place.
My liberation was written on your face.

You left the beach before I learned your name,
And the memory of your face began to fade
Until that day I found you in the Kyoto snow.
When you gave me your hand, I knew I’d never let go.

You and me in our castle by the sea,
Away from the world, where we can be free.
Raise up the bridge against the tide of reality.
The water is slowly rising.

I am you, and you are free
To conquer my world and rule over me.
Send me to the front against the horde of inner enemies–
Armed with your love I will not fall.

It’s been years since the beach,
But my world’s a little brighter (thanks to you).
I’m no longer afraid of the dark.
It’s been years since that night in the snow;
When you gave me you hand,
I fear if you ever let go!
For I know you’d be fine,
But it’d be the end of me.

The Sneaker

Damselflies flutter about
Among the green, broad leafs
Above the mountain stream,
Darting through the river rocks
That make a natural bridge
To the mountain boulder field,
Where stone goliaths lie in wait.

Halfway up The Sneaker,
My love fights to hang on
To nothing more than a pebble: Continue reading “The Sneaker”

Out of Reach

Standing before me,
Your blue eyes pierce my sad soul,
While mine decieve me.

I reach out, but you are smoke
Fading faster with each swipe.

It’s been a while (far too long)! This tanka was written for RonovanWrites Week 136: Eye and Fade. Please read and comment! And don’t forget to check out the other wonderful writings from this week.


Photo by Sandis Helvigs

Like a falling leaf,
Floating down my trunk
In hypnotic, looping swirls,
Filling my world of cold and decay
With your brilliant ballet of gold,
You made me forget
What becomes of a fallen leaf,
And the tree it leaves
Shivering in the cold. Continue reading “Ephemeral”

Lessons from a Jack 0′ Lantern

Even with the garage door closed,
The autumn cold condenses my breath,
Making a momentary, warm, wisp of cloud
That quickly succumbs to the frigid air.

The fly-like buzzing, low pitch humming,
And finicky flickering of florescent lamps
Provides an epilepsy inducing light show,
and plays a monotone accompaniment,
Supporting the eerie, melodic whistling
Of my father’s seasonal solo.

The numb throbbing of my frozen fingers
Pleads to cease the tedious task
Of separating seeds from orange guts,
But one glance at my old man watching me
With a loving smile behind greying whiskers,
And I realize this is much more than pumpkin carving. Continue reading “Lessons from a Jack 0′ Lantern”

A Most Wondrous Novel

Lost and stumbling in the dead of night,
Occasional glimpses of light appear
Piercing through depressing darkness
Giving me hope that a new page in life
Might finally be written.

It would be a cold-turkey plot twist
In which the protagonist resolves:
To dissolve the coarse shackles
His skeletons use to grapple
And pull him to their closet jail.

Each day they dance and play
around him in a devilish circle
As he burns in the bonfire blaze
Of his self destructive cycle—

Maybe that page could even be a book!
A fantastical look at a clean closet man,
With nothing to hide from friends or family,
Who spends each day weightless and happy.
Indeed, a pleasant and frivolous read
Perhaps lacking in plot (and critical thought),
But full of beautiful prose and imagery.
Yes! I should think I’d enjoy such a life.
A book with no strife would be good.

Now if only the light might linger
And brighten my page long enough
To see beauty through my rough night,
I could write it.

Moving on

Changing foliage,
Falling to cold bitter end.
Home leaves with autumn.

Written for Week 116 of RonovanWrites Haiku Challenge: Home & Leaves