More 5 Autumn Haikus

Autumn howls aloud,
Wrestling the through trees saying
Here I am now.

Autumn brings forth the
Changing colors of leaves that
The drop to cold ground.

Leaves raked close to form
High piles for one to jump in
Or to Watch the fun.

Crisp air and leave fall
Bringing Autumn to open
Its way for next phrase.

Autumn leaves swirl, dance
Through breezy day, in the air
Then gently to fall.

Jingle In The Night

Middle of night I hear jingling
But not jingle of sleigh bells
For its middle of summer,
Where crickets strum up their music
And birds sing their lovely songs.

Jingling I hear is inside
Coming from same room of
One who has four paws,
Wags a tail; who shakes her
head letting the jingle ring.

She is my dog, who jingles
Her collar, which let me know
She is there sleeping, scratching
An itch which she must get
Before she goes back to sleep.

Leaves

They whisper through the trees.
They crunch and crackle beneath feet.
They dance in the autumn air,
Swirling, twirling, spinning around
Then gentle land on the ground.
They shrivel and die when winter comes.
They grow on trees in sunny spring.
They show many colors of
Red, orange, yellow, green, brown
When cold weather brings them down.
They make nice beds for animals.
They make nice piles for jumping.
They are good for household chores
Such as raking, mulching and burning
To rid their endless that keep coming.
They are everywhere and beyond
They keep coming every year around end.

Old Tatter Boxes [Revision]

A dusty corner stacked high of old tatter boxes.
Tatter, musty boxes lost in time and space.
Pull boxes from their places,
They creak and groan upon the floor.
Flying dust in air of ages passes; now gone no more.
Ancient boxes open; a whiff of old surrounds the room.
Hands gently take out object never before have seen.
Old they are, just like the tatter, musty boxes,
But preserved with stories of old;
Stories of long ago; is what the object is now.
Young hands gently fond object once was used so well.
Back to its place in the tatter, musty box it goes;
Move tatter, musty box along the floor.
Back to dusty corner pile high with other tatter boxes;
They lie lost for awhile until another time comes by.

Type of Work

I am not one to work long hours sitting
shifting through pile high of coded papers.
I have not gossip about near neighbors
not being able handle work giving.
I’m not one to slave day away outdoor
in never ending changing elements.
Nor team meetings given to restlessness
because of one hour commute long in car.
I am one for flexible hours, for short
four work days, bigger pay brought home weekly.
I can have projects completed daily
for I am allow to wear polo shirts,
sitting comfortable in leather chair;
stress-free environment; I will work for.

Veritas Odit Moras

It happened because his actions spoke louder than words.
It happened because it always happens in due time.
It happened because he finally learned his lesson.
What was he thinking, not telling his mom the truth of the accident?
What could she said when she found broken pieces in the trunk?
He push the envelope of speed to roughly.
Blew him away when the deer collided on impact.
He should not have swept it under the rug.
Mom should of seen the jumpy look when he came home.
Mom gave the you’re going to get it look when she found out.
He knew he got it coming for him.
All bets were off for the new video game he wanted.
No point in beating around the bush any longer.
He had to spill the beans in what happen.
Mom should of focus on controlling her anger.
Yelling is not going to solve anything.
Why didn’t he keep his mouth shut and not talk back to her?
Punishment would have been less.
Why did mom not listen really hard to what he confess?
Why didn’t he listen to be careful while driving?
To busy playing video games instead of listening.
To busy enjoying the new wheels he got.
To busy about curfew; going to friends and getting drunk.
Why, why, didn’t he listen to his mom?
He should have called for designated driver.
He should of spent the night at the friends house.
He should not have gotten drunk.
Now his mom wouldn’t trust him anymore.
He should have did the right thing right away and told her.
Now he has to pay for the consequences.

Ode to Red

Ladybugs.
Scarlet Lily beetle. Corn snake. Newt.
Tomato. Hot sauce with a zip.
Wine go with meat. Ketchup on fries. Chili.
Fall leaves. Autumn time. Holly berries. Santa’s
red suit being pressed for Christmas.
Winnie the Poo bear’s shirt. Clifford the big dog. Elmo.
Remembering childhood wagon. Dog playing with Kong.
Sport jersey. Baseball stitches. Plastic cup for drinking.
Bushel of apples. Cherries. Strawberries. Cranberries. Berries.
Cardinal. Singing robin. Scarlet Ibis. Swimming angler fish.
Poison dart frogs. crafty foxes. Jumping kangaroo. Squirrel in
tree. A squid hunting an evening meal. Marching ants.
Rashes. Blood from a cut. Arteries. A pumping heart.
Lip stick on your cheek from aunt. Nail polish. Hair.
Words of passion. Love from Valentine’s Day. Danger. Warnings
of stormy weather ahead. Fire hydrant.
Fire engine coming to put out fires. Siren from police car
saying stop and pull over now.
Stop signs. Yield. Do Not Enter. First Aid. Emergency.
Raising blood pressure. Boiled lobster. Pepper. Don’t forget the pepperoni.
Stripes of America flag flying over D.C. British flag at Jamestown 1607.
Chinese Flag. Sales tags on clothes. Rubies. Garnet. Plaid.
Answering machine active light. Netflix DVD envelope. Rose.
Vampire eyes. Bricks. Car tail lights.
Stoplight.

Bookstore of Imagination

To go to Barnes and Noble, to amble the aisle of title choices forever,
that vast covering aisle, clutter like evergreen trees.

To visit the fiction section where anything is possible and
where dreams can come true in a blink of an eye.

To discover ancient history long forgotten, in hidden lands,
to devour what cultures existed before our time.

To place your finger along the book spine
playing duck duck goose until your finger

lands on a title, pull it to see what
could this one be the one you buy.

To be able to take yourself around all day if
you want. To browse. To not have to buy. To gather

every book in your arms to buy, to amble two aisles
of westerns, never growing old of a good gunfight.

To quietly wander, into the children section reminiscing of those
books of Itsy Bitsy Spider and The Little Engine that Could.

To struggle under the heavy load in your arms as you walk
up to the checkout with a tower high of books where cashiers

peer around your stack to see who you are, where they will ring up
your treasure trove of new reads, brings a sparkle to your eye.

To be asked debit, credit or cash? To come out with arms strain
under the many books you bought for your nightly reading challenges.

To know that you can re-read your books at home even after store
light are out, as you have started reading in store while

ambling the title choices of vast array of books from one
corner to another corner standing there hoping to read forever.

Sonnenizio on a Line from Brooke

Oh! Death will find me, long before I tire;
In my fine attire I’ll be ready and waiting
I will be somewhere living in retirement
Writing satires and enjoying life.
Death won’t find me tire, as
I will be dancing without getting tiresome
Of day to day tireless activities;
While others tirelessly lay down to rest
I will have to be taken entirely a different way.
Death I laugh are you getting tire?
I know it wouldn’t be to long before I tire.
I will get tire before too long, you can wait.
Tirelessly you will take me with ease
I still won’t tire on the windy breeze.