Haiku on a Monday because sometimes, weird happens.

So, I haven’t written haiku since maybe 9th grade Honors English class. That would be somewhere around 1988. Dang.

Yesterday, my friend Gwin Grimes, who is our librarian here in Fort Davis, posted that a haiku-writing class would be held at the library this week. Our phenomenally talented County Judge Jeannette Duer is leading the class.

Haiku is Japanese poetry, consisting of counting syllables whilst writing.

Five.

Seven.

Five.

Inspired by my current life situation and real-time events, I whipped out some prose.

I read it to my husband as I wrote each haiku vignette (is that a thing?), and he pleaded with me to NOT share it through social media. LOL.

Tell me not to, watch me do it.

Yes, I spent much of my formative life in trouble and grounded.

Whatever. Like I care now that I’m a 43-year-old woman who does what she wants.
Here’s my Monday haiku…


Pallets of cement.

Bags say “just add water”… LIES.

Hard work’s a good thing.

 

Does Ace have more blocks?

We need many more pallets.

Let’s go to McCoy’s.

 

Sun beats down on Bob.

A fishing hat helps shade him.

He still gets sunburned.
Sun shines hard out here.

Fort Davis is close to it.

Don’t forget sunscreen.

 

Wear your sunscreen, please!

He does not listen to me.

His neck is leather.

 

Since water is life,

I keep plenty in the fridge,

Cold for their drinking.

 

I’ve tamed our feral.

She’s still a psychotic fool.

I just love our cats.

I sit in the cool.

I feel guilty, but oh well!

I keep home in line.

 

Construction is hard.

Nothing good comes easily.

This will be the best.


It’s five twenty-two.

I haven’t started dinner.

Wonder what to make? 



I love to drink beer.

The hops, the barley, flavor.

Cold and delicious.



Bubbles and the foam…

I prefer my beer bitter,

I drink I.P.A. 



My glass is not iced,

But my beer is very cold.

It will be just fine.

 

I love to drink beer.

I am Wendish, not German.

Beer is a food group.

Hummingbirds are mean.

There’s plenty of juice for all.

Stingy little shits/OR/Always in a snit. (Rated PG13 and rated Rated G… sorry-ish)



I make juicy juice.

Two parts water, one sugar.

Plenty for all birds.



Black-headed birdies.

Black-chinned females are so green.

Can’t you all just drink?



Fighting birds make noise.

So little, yet so much noise.

I love hummingbirds.



Chicken is roasting.

Natural, air-chilled chicken.

It smells like heaven.


What smell is the best?

Baking chicken is the best.

Can we bottle that? 



Convection oven.

A God-send for RV life.

It cooks everything. 


Plain ol’ chicken thighs.

Sprinkled with salt and pepper.

Simple is the best.



Lettuce is crisp, cold.

Veggies are cut and ready.

Homemade Ranch dressing.


Potato Salad…

Made like a Wendish woman,

Tangy with bacon.



Like it or not, sir…

Dinner will be ready soon.

You will want seconds.


Haiku makes me smile.

Makes simple words poetic…

Count your syllables.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s