The Peacock Haiku

I stuck my chest out

While bearing my bright feathers

And you never judged

Pikit Mata

I went boldly.

Never stopping to measure 

Nor consider the possibility of

An undesired outcome.

I went alone.

I traveled as bright and 

Singular as Polaris on

A silky, dark night, possessing

The resolve of that Concrete Rose.

Each stepped burned as hot as 

The noonday sun,

But onward I went.

Time lumbered by thickly,

Never considering me as it

Rolled as slow as tree sap;

It passed just as it does

And pass, did I. 

I acquiesced.

I surrendered what was best 

For better-

Or so I hoped. 

Mama’s Fun

So, when are we

Gonna let mama dance ?

After all, she’s mopped
Halls, hung pictures, kissed
Scratches and scrapes and its Friday so
She deserves a date !
Mama done donned her
Favorite flower dress,
She done bathed in White Diamonds
While dancin’ to funk so she’s
Ready to make a mess.
Since Monday, she’s been ready
To relieve the week’s stress.
She slipped on her pumps and
Steadied her stride before giving
Me a forehead kiss and
Hopping into her ride.
She smiled behind beads of sweat
While jamming to Big Luther and
Keith Sweat without a thought of
Monday’s chicken grease and hair net.
You can bet Manischewitz and
Canadian Mist mixed with chicken wings
And laughs were the gist of
Fridays like these.
Mama done had enough  fun for
Two weekends now it’s back to
Saturdays with crisp bacon and
Eggs with cheese.

The Mystery of Sirius B

I loved you before anyone else.

Or anything. 

Before the force of creation 

Deemed you necessary, our 

Initials were carved into a tree.

Before the first glimmer of 

Glory, I held the echoes of

Your laugh in my bosom.

Before you were a suckling babe,

Who bound into the world

With a throaty arrival like

The Horns of Jericho

I loved you.

The cathexis began…

It began at the most exciting of 

Moments. 

It began as an insistent skosh of

A twinkle, hastening through an

Intense, dark void. 

It danced with a purpose. 

It danced with a white hot and 

Passionate fury right up to the

Edge of nothingness, and when it 

Got there, a smooth, blue sky

Smiled. A maze of traffic meandered

Out of sight while the masses

Floated aimlessly about

And still, I do. 

The Bright Red Door Sestina

A bright and brilliant red door
gave me passage. The archtop style
suited the bronze orbit knob. The floor
shined like a smooth satin moon while
Prince Rogers Nelson’s tune “Adore”
accompanied her wide, toothy smile.

Her crossed legs and style
held a secret. She blessed the floor
with a soft, quiet stride while
Prince sang. If I didn’t adore
her before, I did now with a smile
that followed her through the door.

My feet grew roots in the floor
with each step. Struck deaf while
she read aloud, I managed to adore
James and Audre. She grew a smile
and strode towards the door
in her proud and proven style.

Her flower blooms once in a while
for our pleasure. We’re to adore
it’s random, exotic beauty and smile.
To ignore it is to batten a door
and suffer in a grand style,
writhing sickly on the floor;

Knowing this all to well, I’ll adore
each bit. I’ll warm myself at her smile
by that bright, brilliant red door
daily. I’ll borrow Job’s style
and root myself to the floor
for the longest, most patient while.

So, be sure to grow a smile
in case she darkens your door
with her sure and certain style.
Glide across the floor
to indulge in her dance for a while
in case it’s your last to adore.

So, smile warmly by the door
with style suited for the floor.
She’ll surely adore you for a while.

A Musing On What Was (Free Verse)

The fires of the past summon.
Transgressions rest in a pile
Ashen and haggard.
With eyes glazed over,
Their chests rise, then fall
To rise no more.

Inside Out (A Tanka)

The best parts of you
Wait quietly to be seen.
Each tick tock sweetens
Their particular goodness
While we wait, warm and pensive.

Reverence : A Tanka

The steamy whistle
From my kettle made me smile.
That dawn indulgence
Reminds me exactly why
I savored your smooth sweet tea.

Catatonic (A Haiku)

Stuck so very still,
Struck by a magic maker.
I’ll just call here home.

The Offering

You didn’t hear it from me
But I bring greetings from the
Smallest of birds flying hurriedly.
She sought a suitable enough perch
To share with me, her latest research
So I indulged.
The bulk of her wordy bulge
Was bland and full of greys
Until a particular word, preceded
By vibrant action verbs
Snatched me out of a haze.
The little birdy chirped on for days
About the ways in which I sat stoic
While my eyes communicated through
A steely gaze that resembled
The Thinker’s daze.
She laughed at salt she brought back
From Utah’s Salt Flats to be
Given as a gift.
I scoffed at the reason she left
The undesired season between
Sips of a drink that was stiff.
Where it sat announced its intent
To not only the recipient but
To every soul that came and went.
It was seen as a vandal’s ploy
Placed by a star crossed lover
As this specific display
Couldn’t be dreamed of by any other
But alas !!
It’s intended target silently cursed
Mumbled and grunted as she swept
The mounds of salt into
Saturday mornings grass.