Our haiku prompt for 2/2/17 is IS. Write a haiku about existence without using the word “is.” Writing prompts for the month are sourced from NaHaiWriMo page on Facebook.
even the hurry up
to the hurry-up
dog #3 and I grey around the years
Sometimes I really feel like I don’t belong on this planet. Sometimes I just feel so stupid – ignorant is the better/correct word but stupid is the feeling. Also frustrated and angry at the computer, cellphone, apps, multiple user names, complicated passwords and everything else that is supposed to be so easy breezy and yet not. I don’t have any young version of me around who gets this stuff and can show me. I have wonderful and patient friends here and there who are better than me, but mostly in the same boat as they rely on their offspring or offspring-in-laws. And while I’m on this rant – I may as well throw in that I hate keys and all that they represent – a necessary burden in a rather sad state of human affairs. What a colossal waste of time and energy to lug around these weighty metal objects that supposedly protect us by locking out uninvited visitors, and yes I know – I know, soon-to-be-outdated-if-not-already-in-place by more of the same easy breezy cell phone and computer apps/lock/unlock programs that require even more stringent passwords and are even heavier than keys in the literal and figurative sense.
This is really not a rant about technology or progress, but actually the lack of it in my mind, of human systems and values keeping pace. Or is it, as some of you would suggest, just an outcry on aging. Probably all of the above. I’m going out for a long walk.
vinyl yet another word for the generation gap to define
what password would the rain offer?
new haircut same face chamomile tea
I start chopping
the sometimes struggle
with less swagger
meadow vs. pasture
all the subtle changes
in a lifetime
art and the art
thin winter sun
sidetracked by what
I don’t know
Ode to Diane’s Barn
I saw a blue door today.
It was painted shut on a
purple barn with touches of
pink and green on the roof.
Despite a graying azure sky,
this barn settles into comfort.
The surrounding meadow is
cheddar with a reflection of
sapphire and a hint of almond
floating around its foundation.
It stands thoughtfully alone.
The weathered barn looks so serene
in washes of toasty sun and quiet
shade with a committee of trees
tinting the background. I would like
to step inside its blue door to inhale
the sweet hay and linger in the leftover
heat at day’s end. That of a farm life
breathing in the slow decay of rusty
tools, rafters of swearing, laughter,
tears and prayer in the purple barn
with a pink and green roof.