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one daffodil

It wasn’t a host of golden daffodils

Not even one thousand,

But I did gaze – and gazed –

My heart did with pleasure fills

It was only one, the first of spring –

And I did wander lonely as a cloud.

A poet could not but be gay.

In daffodils, one or ten thousand.

 

Papaya haiku

chameleon-papaya

 

Ah Chameleon

You turn the ordinary

Into a haiku.

 

How can a lizard

Create such pure elegance

On  a papaya?

As soon as I took a seat in the waiting room, a man looked at me and this is our conversation:

Man: Where were you born?

Me: Born and raised in Hawaii.

Man: Hawaii. Those people are the most negative.

Me: Negative?

Man: In Hawaii, what do you say to people when you leave?

Me: Aloha?

Man: What do you say when you meet someone?

Me: Aloha?

Man began to explain his views on how these two words were soooo native-like and I wasn’t even in a grass skirt with a bone through my nose.

I was called in for my appointment so I looked at him and said, “Aloha.”

I wish I had said the following:

  1. There’s another meaning of Aloha. We say Aloha when we want to say Butt Off, Idiot.
  2. I was born on one of those newly found planets.
  3. On a bed, on clean sheets.

 

Under the rising sun

The enemy came

Wearing my face.

 

And so we all became the enemy.

The enemy on December 7th who wore my face is not me.

A Muslim  terrorist is not my neighbor from Syria.

That black man who robbed me at gun point is not the next black man I see.

We may dress as, or wear the same face of your enemy, but know this:

Cow 1 is not Cow 2.

 

http://sacb.ee/8EMK

Do check out my story in the Sacramento Bee that came out today in the Forum Section.

Trump and Haiku

There will be no haiku poems on Trump for the next four years in respect for Basho, Issa, and all the Japanese haiku poets who found beauty, elegance, inspiration, meaning and simple joy in nature, people and our universe and who sought and found the most select language ever available to share this with us. But…I will still write non-haiku, loosely written verses:

Trump

The gigantic kite soars

Toward the hot orange sun

Deaf to voices from Icarus’ flight,

He hurtles down and buries

The country in black ash.

Hey Frances, you forgot my frontal view.

I’m going to Hawaii soon to visit their classrooms so schools in Sacramento, let me know if you’d like a visit; I’ll have you writing poems in ten minutes.

ww-front