The diver takes flight
with mid-air acrobatics
Graceful as a bird
featured in Australian Writer's Centre top 60 Olympic Haiku
Tuesday, August 31, 2021
Thursday, July 22, 2021
THE PENCIL SELLER
I walk with downcast eyes
afraid I might stare
at your misshapen body
sitting on a sheet of cardboard,
withered legs showing beneath a ragged
vest
a tray of pencils balanced on your lap
dented tin cup close at hand.
Afraid to see
your eyes
ashamed to be
afraid
embarrassed I
have no money for the tin cup.
The pencilled sign around your neck reads
Pencils, 10 cents. God bless you.
You are a fixture
on here, like the lamppost
on the corner.
I have watched
from across the street
as people walk quickly by.
A few pause,
fumble for some change,
drop some coins into your cup.
No one takes a
pencil.
I want today to
be different.
I tug my father’s hand.
‘Daddy can I have a pencil?”
We retrace our steps.
Daddy lifts a
pencil from the tray.
Nice sharp point, he says
looking directly at you
hands me a fistful of coins.
One by one I drop
the coins into your cup
hearing the satisfying clinks as they land.
Your voice is
deep and warm;
Thank you, young lady. Bless you.
Now I can look in
your eyes
Why did I expect your voice to be misshapen
too?
Wednesday, March 17, 2021
One Year Later
One year ago, today I gave myself a personal challenge to write a poem a day during COVID 19 isolation. I optimistically assumed that everything would be back to normal in a month or so. After 36 poems, I stopped the daily regime and wrote when the spirit moved me. It’s been 365 days of our new order. To date, I have written 63 poems.
I had a dream of empty streets, a lifeless, listless scene.
Shuttered storefronts, windows dark and blind.
People sparsely scattered, skirting skittishly around;
Eyes alert, behind muffling masks, smiles blanked.
What happened to the urban bustle, the hustle of daily life?
This seems to be a foreign land with everyone a stranger
distant from one another, no interactions or cheerful greetings;
a mournful quiet; a deep sadness settling down.
What is this world, so far from what I’ve known?
Is this vision real or a scary made up movie scene?
If I pinch myself, will I wake up
to see airplanes flying and people dancing
to hear sounds of laughter and music in the streets?
No. Don’t answer me. I know the truth.
But just for now, let's pretend that reality is a dream
because we can wake from dreams,
and someday soon we will.
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