It's not autumn, but I have been watching leaves these past few days as they hung tenaciously to branches, enduring gale force winds. Sights and smells stir our memories and bring to mind images imprinted there. Beth posted the image of a huge snowwoman and it seemed everyone had a comment. The wind died during the night and the temperature dropped. All is quiet in the pre-dawn and I am able to concentrate once again. I used leaves in a series of three Haiku held together by a single theme. The poetry form has an official name, but I can't remember it. It is a comment on the stages of life.Twisting leaf in wind.
Green, it moves with limb and twig
youth has strength to spare.
Twisting leaf in wind.
Red, it leaves its lofty perch
color to be seen.
Twisting leaf in wind.
Brown, it’s blown from place to place
no one knows it’s there.
This country has come to feel the same when Congress is in session as when the baby gets hold of a hammer. - Will Rogers
I sometimes write tongue-in-cheek in response to deep philosophical questioning in poetry too deep for my comprehension. If I don't get it - I usually don't enjoy it. I know some like to share their craft with a cloistered few and snicker at the rest of us when we leave with puzzled looks on our faces. I like it plain and simple.
Life Questions
Little Jack Horner
stands in a corner
and ponders,
all alone.
What if a room
is round?
What can a cat do
then?
Roam around
until he is tired,
then fall down?
Will he make a
sound?
Who would know
if he’s all alone?
An air mallet
beating a xylophone
won’t keep you
up at night.
A single thread will
never be twine.
If there is no
darkness
does light really
shine?
A solitary sentinel
with no one to guard.
So what if he stands
there stiff as a board?
