A blog in honor of Ernest Hemingway's continual search for the perfect sentence. Now in a new and improved haiku format!
The eagle watches
unfazed by the squabbling gulls,
waiting for its time
Epistolary
to a would-be king, to wit:
history repeats
Exhalations come
condensed in the cold air and
sweat freezes in hair
Sometimes the only
answer is a large stack of
pancakes and bacon
Temerity to
terror but suddenly you
find its at your door
Dust motes in the strong
morning light call to me to
get my ass in gear
As Matisse lay in
bed unwell he continued
to make gorgeous art
Monsters are men not
myths nor mysteries, ghastly
in their normalcy
A crow alit on
an ice flow mid river and
headed south in style
No content in that
character, just a yawning
featureless chasm
The silence lasts for
but a moment as the snow
quietly collects
Titles and miens throw
shadows to distract from the
true measures inside
Not ready to go
but the fuse has been lit; the
timer ticking down.
Cracked, chipped, and gnarled by
time, but still beautiful in
its decrepitude
My mind is empty
today like the infinite
space of a clean page
Confabulate life
from a half-remembered dream
or simply fake it
Soon the parade will
arrive with ballyhoo and
bedlam spreading wide
There, the season of
Mardi Gras has begun, but
here it's just damn cold
Thoughts mirror the bleak
day of biting cold letting
icy words slip out
A leaning dog steals
a glance hoping for something,
a treat or a pat
A crow feather in
my hand catches the light and
goes from black to blue
Sapling shivers in
the frigid wind waiting for
spring to thaw and grow
The river pushes
ice against the shore grinding
it down (metaphor)
Yell at the walls in
a one-sided exchange and
still manage to lose
Follow through or don't
since in the end it's on you
and no one else, pal
The strong morning light
spotlights a single mourning
dove waiting for food
Set regrets alight
and forget about any
new resolutions
Trampled confetti
and a busted noisemaker
tell the night's story