Daily Haiku – Autumn Leaves

September 30, 2014

The leaves of Autumn

lovely gold and brown colors

painting the landscape.

by Heather Burns


I Have Not Lingered In European Monasteries from “The Spice-Box of Earth”

I Have Not Lingered In European Monasteries
and discovered among the tall grasses tombs of knights
who fell as beautifully as their ballads tell;
I have not parted the grasses
or purposefully left them thatched.

I have not held my breath
so that I might hear the breathing of God
or tamed my heartbeat with an exercise,
or starved for visions.
Although I have watched him often
I have not become the heron,
leaving my body on the shore,
and I have not become the luminous trout,
leaving my body in the air.

I have not worshipped wounds and relics,
or combs of iron,
or bodies wrapped and burnt in scrolls.

I have not been unhappy for ten thousands years.
During the day I laugh and during the night I sleep.
My favorite cooks prepare my meals,
my body cleans and repairs itself,
and all my work goes well.

By Leonard Cohen

Daily Haiku – Bob Dylan

September 28, 2014

Every song Bob Dylan wrote or performed can be distilled in a haiku. Read them here.

You’re Gonna Make Me Lonesome When You Go

She was perfection
She’s stamped in his heart always.
She’ll never come back.

Daily Poem – Mark Twain

September 26, 2014

A Sweltering Day In Australia by Mark Twain

The Bombola faints in the hot Bowral tree,
Where fierce Mullengudgery’s smothering fires
Far from the breezes of Coolgardie
Burn ghastly and blue as the day expires;

And Murriwillumba complaineth in song
For the garlanded bowers of Woolloomooloo,
And the Ballarat Fly and the lone Wollongong
They dream of the gardens of Jamberoo;

The wallabi sighs for the Murrubidgee,
For the velvety sod of the Munno Parah,
Where the waters of healing from Muloowurtie
Flow dim in the gloaming by Yaranyackah;

The Koppio sorrows for lost Wolloway,
And sigheth in secret for Murrurundi,
The Whangeroo wombat lamenteth the day
That made him an exile from Jerrilderie;

The Teawamute Tumut from Wirrega’s glade,
The Nangkita swallow, the Wallaroo swan,
They long for the peace of the Timaru shade
And thy balmy soft airs, O sweet Mittagong!

The Kooringa buffalo pants in the sun,
The Kondoparinga lies gaping for breath,
The Kongorong Camaum to the shadow has won,
But the Goomeroo sinks in the slumber of death;

In the weltering hell of the Moorooroo plain
The Yatala Wangary withers and dies,
And the Worrow Wanilla, demented with pain,
To the Woolgoolga woodlands despairingly flies;

Sweet Nangwarry’s desolate, Coonamble wails,
And Tungkillo Kuito in sables is drest,
For the Whangerei winds fall asleep in the sails
And the Booleroo life-breeze is dead in the west.

Mypongo, Kapunda, O slumber no more
Yankalilla, Parawirra, be warned
There’s death in the air!
Killanoola, wherefore
Shall the prayer of Penola be scorned?

Cootamundra, and Takee, and Wakatipu,
Toowoomba, Kaikoura are lost
From Onkaparinga to far Oamaru
All burn in this hell’s holocaust!

Paramatta and Binnum are gone to their rest
In the vale of Tapanni Taroom,
Kawakawa, Deniliquin – all that was best
In the earth are but graves and a tomb!

Narrandera mourns, Cameron answers not
When the roll of the scathless we cry
Tongariro, Goondiwindi, Woolundunga, the spot
Is mute and forlorn where ye lie.

Mark Twain

Daily Haiku – Zen Football

September 25, 2014

Zen Football

The quarterback folds
his hands under the center—
2, X, 18, haik-!

Written by: J. Patrick Lewis


Pan frying union of
sausage and bacon
snarling eggs sunny side up
topped with lightly spiced
mushroom and tomatoes

By Harry Horsman

While walking through seventeen
I picked a bright red rose.
I was living wild and reckless it changed my life I suppose.
A blue ribbon winner with its brilliant flare
Its beauty was enchanting like a breath of mountain air.
I kept it near my heart red velvet all aglow
Why God gave me this gift I guess I’ll never know.
Withstanding troubled times and a heartbreak now and then
But the rose never wilted amazing me once again.
Roses bloom in their season then die and fall apart
My rose kept on living rooted deep within my heart.
My days are growing short now I have lived a fulfilled life
The rose I picked when I was young is my fateful loving wife.
She gave me three sons and they filled my bouquet
Pride and pleasure overflowed to see them blossom day by day.
We have grown old together and my heart is still elated after all the years gone by.
My rose never faded.
For my Loving wife

Source: Family Friend Poems