Water falling down, /
stumbling over the moment, /
my heart lands in tears.
Category Archives: poetry by author
Haiku to you Thursday: “Water falling down”
Water falling down, /
stumbling over the moment, /
my heart lands in tears.
Filed under Haiku to You Thursday, poetry by author
Haiku: “Winter Laughs”
The New Year arrives
Old Man Winter has a laugh
His cold strokes your hopes.
January 1, 2013 · 2:23 am
Haiku to you Thursday: “Great Escape”
Smiles, hugs, and paper; /
Presents, bows, and tape askew. /
Great escape again.
Filed under Haiku to You Thursday, poetry by author
New Holiday Character: “Bow Man”
The Bow Man
By David E. Booker
You say you don’t like them,
Then you begin to shout.
You’d better be very careful
Or the Bow Man will clean you out.
He comes on Christmas Day
After you’ve unwrapped all your toys
To take all the ones back
With which you seem annoyed.
Complain about a doll:
“It’s not the color I like.”
He’ll take away all your toys:
Games, dolls, scooters, and bikes.
Beware what you dislike
For that’s just what he enjoys
He’ll snatch away your gifts
Even from good girls and boys.
Don’t like the new dress?
He’ll snatch it off your body.
He’ll take your jacket and your scarf
While sipping your hot toddy.
He’s worse than the Grinch,
Who took your stuff at night.
The Bow Man will do it today,
In the broadest of daylight.
He once snatched a mouse
Right out of an old cat’s paws.
The cat complained the mouse
Was not from Santa Claus.
The Bow Man’s big and fat,
And wears green ugly clothes.
If he ever comes to see you,
His smell will turn up your nose.
He’s dressed in ribbons and bows
But don’t let the festive look fool you.
If you complain about your toys,
He’ll keep Christmas from being cruel to you.
A grainy photo of the infamous Bow Man. Note the Smiley Face made from bows as a way to lull you into a false sense of security.
Silly Saturday: “Christmas Time”
Christmas Time
By David E. Booker
Christmas comes but once a year
As songs and calendar make clear;
And then the bills come blowing in,
Heralding a new year, amen.
So out into the cold I go,
Fighting wind and debt and snow
Bringing Christmas joy and cheer
’Til my bank account is clear.
Then the credit cards come out
And out and out and then about
The time I think I’ve spent enough
There is a present that I’ve muffed.
So back into the store I go
For my tale of substitute woe
Where the clerk tries to smile
And I feel I’m in Kafka’s Trial.
The guardians of tradition wait to ensure your every move is the right one.
O’ Christmas becomes a time surreal
When some dance and some kneel
And oftentimes my intentions digress
And I come out feeling less and less.
As the stories of Christmas past
Tell tales of deeds that truly last.
Try as I might, I come to the day
Watching the show now on display
And feel as the tree tops glisten
And children listen, that I am missing
A moment of my own to clasp,
Something sweet and ethereal to last.
For it’s those moments ill-defined,
When a smile is given un-timed,
When the heart is opened to the moment,
That the soul finds console-ment
That this season means more than here
And those people you wish to hold dear
Find their place and their own rhyme
In your heart, beating in a new time.
[Editor’s note: This poem was first published in a small publication in 2007.]
Filed under Christmas, Photo by author, poetry by author, Silly Saturday
Haiku to you Thursday: “Love in the folds”
Love is an art form /
tucked deep into a book’s fold: /
read, forgotten, dreamed.
Filed under Haiku to You Thursday, poetry by author
Haiku to you Thursday: “Clotted Christmas”
Glass sparkled roadway /
cold winds and clotted metal /
Christmas and cop lights.
Filed under Christmas, Haiku to You Thursday, poetry by author
Haiku to you Thursday: “Heart”
Take apart my heart:
blood vessels, valves, and muscles.
Your love beats there still.
Filed under Haiku to You Thursday, poetry by author
The Devil’s Dictionary: Abstainer, Adage, Age
In our continuing quest to revisit a classic, or even a curiosity from the past and see how relevant it is, we continue with The Devil’s Dictionary by Ambrose Bierce. Originally published in newspaper installments from 1881 until 1906. You might be surprised how current many of the entries are.
For example, here are definitions for Abstainer, Adage, and Age. The Old definitions are Bierce’s. The New definitions are mine or somebody else contemporary. The new definitions can also be simply examples of The Devil’s Dictionary definitions. From time to time, just as it was originally published, we will come back to The Devil’s Dictionary, for a look at it then and how it applies today. Click on Devil’s Dictionary in the tags below to bring up the other entries.
Old Definition
Abstainer, n. A weak person who yields to the temptation of denying himself a pleasure. A total abstainer is one who abstains from everything but abstention, and especially from inactivity in the affairs of others.
Adage, n. Boned wisdom from weak teeth.
Age, n. That period of life in which we compound for the vices that we still cherish by reviling those that we have no longer the enterprise to commit.
New Definition
There once was a man, an abstainer,
a four-square, by-the-book refrainer,
who couldn’t live up to the adage —
something wise and about cabbage.
He refused to believe it was a sustainer.
He did not believe he must dine
without a proper glass of red wine.
Upon such a stewed mess,
boiled and very plain no less:
the adage about cabbage, he declined.
He now hangs out in a ratty ol’ garden,
but eats only his own private slumgullion.
Yet, to all who pass by
and not wanting to know why,
he says cabbage has made him well again.
Filed under Ambrose Bierce, Devil's Dictionary, poetry by author
Freeform Friday: “Bah … Festival”
Bah … Festival
[Poet’s note: My poetic response below is to the message in the link above.]
Happy festival of planets and stars
of magic men that travel from afar
of little people who slave all night
in the cold so someone else can take flight.
Happy festival of growing debt
of presents you don’t want or haven’t seen yet
of holiday cheer without smiles
of jammed parking lots and lines for miles.
Yes, Merry Christmas to you and yours,
attending parties that feel like chores.
Yes, Merry Christmas and presents, too,
and the tree that lights: red, green, and blue.
You say, “Merry Christmas is all I’ll hear,
and please don’t feel less of any good cheer.
Kwanzaa and Hanukkah, well they’re just fine.
You have yours and I’ll have mine.”
So in this season of brotherly love,
of peace, good will, and stuff from above,
when a big fat man dressed all in red
driving flying reindeer and a toy-laden sled
slides down your chimney in the middle of the night,
even if you don’t have any, though you just might,
coming at the moment when your dreams are strong
and hope has it greatest chance to belong,
I hope you have a Merry Christmas without dread
and don’t let Happy Holidays play with your head.
For if you do and you then let it stew
your heart will miss out of the headiest of brews.
Have a ho-ho-ho-whole lot of fun this Holiday Season.
Filed under Freeform Friday, Holidays, poetry by author
Booker's Blog 