amature ornothologist : a different haibun...

amature ornothologist

unexpected travel plans

have me keeping you

company as you have

to return to your office

to pick up supplies be-

fore returning to rest

for a not so early flight

that will take you away

so I look here and there

spotting things that are

familiar, things that are

in the process of change

and those things that have

completely rearranged and have

with natural time or assistance have in fact vanished

there by entryway to the industrial park’s green space

I spot them, on guard, yet resting comfortably on

stray straight barren limbs that contrast

compared to the green tree that

they stick out from, looming

rather large they are a two,

of what I believe to be a pair

Osprey or fish hawk - have

they studied the habits of

the people that enter and

exit their territory - I did

see a nest I believe and

are majestic there while

dusk lingers highlighting

their white heads as they

silently, statuesquely perch

a different kind of

prey...they wait the osprey watch

as we pass by them

©JP/davh

(osprey , common name for a bird of prey related to the hawk and the New World vulture)

By Way of an Explanation : for Miz Q

http://imprompt.wordpress.com/2013/08/09/between-the-words/

By Way of an Explanation

They quibble all day

and rehash it reasons to not listen

they defy their existence

to be with their own arguing

and drown the truth

They constantly fight and their brittle stiffness defies gravity

flying off the handle at the most inconsequential trivia

They are like children

- the orphans -

all day starved,

and groping for bad words

their constant one upmanship leaves little real room to

accomplish anything of any real value - except to set bad examples

 

Small their cruel masks

on their stolen faces,

brilliant light

and the love vanishes

with despondency...

and yet their partnership continued, prevailed

in the darkest of nights - yin and yang without light

They are like opposites,

- the gods -

Warring ones trivial at best

have nothing good.

...gave nothing good - only encouraging escape,

and at that they exceeded handily for those who surrounded them

©JP/davh

Miz Q asked us to fill in the blanks and even add to the the verse.

The original ‘Skeleton’ can be found here:

http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/20398

Note: I did not read the original until after I wrote my piece. Mine draws on my childhood and

my parents that seemed to always be arguing... often loudly, without reason. But that was my view. I escaped as soon as I could. Though there were some good moments...I suppose.

For We Write Poems 169: Preamble

http://wewritepoems.wordpress.com/2013/08/08/prompt-169-dangerous-poems/

...what are the little dangers and the large ones? No one has ever written this.

- John Steinbeck

Preamble

I am a poet, I am a writer, I am a storyteller.

Them, there are a bunch of dangerous words.

Because now I have committed myself -

perhaps should be committed...

Along with all those other famous

and infamous personages that claim to

perhaps understand the placement of words.

Now just what am I going to do with them...

those darkly ominous threatening cloudy obscure

words that eek and ooze out of every pore of

my being even when I don’t have a pen, or

a keyboard to enslave and demand purchase

for the dramatic, comedic, rebellious or soothing

sentences strung together to make sense?

How long can I feign incompetence, or

ignorance of rules, or proclamations that

I don’t want my words to be misconstrued,

edited or even bound - sent out into the real

world like unprepared children awaiting

critique and review...and yet that’s what I have

been doing; babbling; bobbing in spaces

Now just what am I going to do with me...

hide behind the apron strings of familial duty -

make the excuse once again that I don’t have

the time to pursue self publishing because I don’t

have someone else to do the leg work, listen to

myself; dramatic, comedic, rebellious and soothing

soul-speak, heart palpitating as I say; some day!

©JP/davh

Spaced Aged Spaced Out : For Miz Q

http://imprompt.wordpress.com/2013/08/02/between-the-lines/

Spaced Aged Spaced Out

piquing my interest I lean in to overhear a snippet of

conversation just because the speaker is so seriously

sad, as if his favorite toy was broken beyond repair

and mother tossed it out with the trash

(she never did like it anyway

saying I’d go blind - I wonder how I manage to exist...

much less cut those hideous apron strings)

At least that’s what I think he is thinking...

But now he is free, but is he on a working vacation?

tied as he is to his electronics -

ignoring the live faces he passes

*

(she who sacrificed what - perhaps everything.

Maybe not enough, because he thinks he is a gift

to any and everything that is the opposite of what he is)

That’s what first impressions get you - what do I think -

young man, The Fool on the Hill is smarter than you

After all he sees more than you do and he didn’t even

have to read the instructions on the label...

(You know the ones written between the lines that

require common sense, which is something I truly

believe she tried to teach you...but you weren’t listening)

©JP/davh

I finally got a chance to play with this prompt. I think at least one person will recognize the piece of the piece I ‘pecked’ it from... one of my own very recent pieces.

WWP 168: 'Shored Up'

http://wewritepoems.wordpress.com/2013/08/01/prompt-168-a-poem-you-cant-think-about/

‘Shored Up’

storm brewing salt air

tossing a stray hair

here and there

we stroll, heels click

hearing conversations

in unfamiliar tongues

mother’s chasing children

father’s loaded like pack mules

kites, parasailers, balls tossed -

***

but the thing that tickles my fancy

is the young dandy not paying

any mind, head bent in

complaint, showing

no restraint as he

babbes on his

cell phone...

letting

me wonder and

sigh at how he uses a

prescription for a drug that is

is supposed to aid elders and then

whines like a two year old proclaiming

that it doesn’t work for him...      anymore

©JP/davh

haibun; long version 'The Kitchen Sink'

haibun; short version:

‘The Kitchen Sink’

When builders get buys

for their supplies for cookie cutter homes -

‘they’ get several surprises

Ranges and ovens too small

cabinets too big, unusual colors for countertops,

odd placement of appliances

Illegal wiring gets discovered

when wasted space above the cupboards -

after thirty years, is exposed

The time has come to remedy

these odd endeavors, a date has been set

to correct these mistakes

Add in a few modern and

updated pieces of equipment - a face lift

of sorts to please our eyes

About two weeks without

a kitchen - not a complete remodel,

but really just enough...

At least the date for work

has been set - we can mark the calendar

without regret

dishing the dirt

we expose, then expect

a job well done

©JP/davh   

moving forward...

moving forward...

she wants me to fall back

play the peacemaker again

after years of getting nowhere

I gave it up

Though not entirely...if biting one’s tongue

and saying nothing counts

peace only becomes a reality

when both parties want success

she, is learning that...

Now if countries could learn that too...

perhaps there would be less warring

some are only willing to bend

so far - until given ultimatums -

and even then, they cheat, whine,

beg, destroy

Those who try to love them unconditionally -

they create the need for conditions

stubborn people only want things

done the way they want them -

or not at all

Not being in their shoes, I try not to judge...

how they choose to use their time

so I remain non-committal

make no promises - I’ve got

more than enough piled high

on my own plate

To make any demands of anyone else...

I need my space and my time too

I’m choosing brandied peaches with

vanilla ice cream, I’ve had enough

humble pie and crow

©JP/davh