A blog in honor of Ernest Hemingway's continual search for the perfect sentence. Now in a new and improved haiku format!
Ghosts with shadows dance
among the gravestones lightly
until the morning
Thirty years ago
they said take back the power
but we heeded not
Play the blues for us
in a world with ballooning
inequality
In the light I see
the beauty of everything
until the sun leaves
The fickle fates take
the best of us first, leaving
the dregs to remain
Fairytale endings,
at least with the Brothers Grimm,
climax in violence
Intravenous
pirate ships come to maraud,
plundering your cells
They can stretch, fill, and
tuck, but time will have its say
and tell its story
Accords are cored by
hollow words on hallowed ground
stained with blood and ink
Identity masked
by words meant to convey a
truth that instead shrouds
Let nepo babies
wail as boughs break and cradles
tumble from on high
Soft dogs with hard bones
gnaw and gnaw and dream ancient
dreams of the wild world
Ripped from the womb of
sleep we wrestle with angels
for a day's blessing
The hanged man sees the
world upside down, glimpsing things
missed by all the rest
At journey's end we
return to the peaceable
kingdom of our home
There is nothing left
but entertainment to daze
and drain us all dry
Pick your own poison
whether pens or apples to
spite with or spit out
Time so taunting that
crawls at dawn but is breakneck
by the evening's end