https://pixabay.com/en/address-book-notebook-book-notes-2152429/
***
THE LOVE OF READING
***
The love of reading
One of the best parts of life
Sofa adventures
***
Free davidbrucehaiku eBooks (pdfs)
Free eBooks by David Bruce (pdfs)
Day: September 15, 2018
Edgar Lee Masters: Ippolit Konovaloff
I WAS a gun-smith in Odessa.
One night the police broke in the room
Where a group of us were reading Spencer.
And seized our books and arrested us.
But I escaped and came to New York
And thence to Chicago, and then to Spoon River,
Where I could study my Kant in peace
And eke out a living repairing guns
Look at my moulds! My architectonics
One for a barrel, one for a hammer
And others for other parts of a gun!
Well, now suppose no gun-smith living
Had anything else but duplicate moulds
Of these I show you—well, all guns
Would be just alike, with a hammer to hit
The cap and a barrel to carry the shot
All acting alike for themselves, and all
Acting against each other alike.
And there would be your world of guns!
Which nothing could ever free from itself
Except a Moulder with different moulds
To mould the metal over.
***
Odessa is in the Ukraine.
***
The bather’s lament
Johnson’s baby shampoo
promises, ‘no more tears’
but I have news for you,
it only works so long
as you’re in the shower
Even the greatest skipping stone is only good once
An Enduring Haiku #3
in bold strokes, painted
soft skin pelted by torrents
petals hold bright tones
~
Words and Photography ©2018 Tanya Cliff ~ to contact me
Entry posted in haiku & poetry.
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A Taste of the Tail
the hawk sits, frozen
still as the one-eyed owl
that watches over the yard
where the squirrel
flits
busy, burying its nuts in the tall flower pots
for cold-weather snacking
on the deck
the hawk moves slightly
nodding its head
as the squirrel darts
jagged, pressing its nails into the oak’s old bark
and climbing for leafy shelter
in the branches
the hawk flies suddenly
stabs its talons
snaps it beak
hungry, disturbs the limbs with its wings,
littering the squirrel’s playground
in a hail of acorns
the squirrel, who saw it coming,
scurries for deep cover
where the leaves are the thickest
and the branches
twist
to
twine,
leaving only a taste of its bushy tail
behind
the one-eyed owl sits on its deck-rail perch,
observant,
and
grins
~
Words and Photography ©2018 Tanya Cliff ~ to contact me
Posted in poetry & free verse.
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