Trees fall, power fails,
Sirens wail into the night.
Thunder laughs; man sighs.
Fallen Hackberry tree, over 50 feet tall. Unfortunately, it has probably killed many blueberry bushes lying underneath the branches.
[Editor’s note: over 40,000 or the 100,000 customers served by the Knoxville Utilities Board were, at one time, without power due a powerful line of storms that passed through the area on July 5, 2012. I was without power for nearly four hours and have this downed tree to deal with.]
Filed under Freeform Friday, haiku, nature, Photo by author, poetry by author
Sun consumes the sky.
Earth’s belly bulges with fire.
Night weeps empty tears.
Filed under dry weather, haiku, poetry by author
Three leaves gather rain. /
Heavy with sky, touch the ground. /
Glistening repose.
Three leaves heavy with rain.
Filed under haiku, Photo by author, poem, poetry
[Editor’s note: Parts 1 – 6 of The Kibitzer and the Kidd are available by clicking on “Kidd” or “Kibitzer” in the tag section. This is science fiction western with more than dollop of humor and satire.]
888888
Al Wayne handed the Cough Drop Kidd a hot toddy. They were in Wayne’s private office off the mezzanine in the saloon.
Given the scuffed look of the saloon, this office was opulent with upholstered seats and an intricately carved fireplace mantel. There was no fire in the fireplace, and the Kidd wondered if it worked. Wayne assured him that it did, but that he rarely used it because it was an inefficient way to heat and added to the carbon footprint.
Wayne handed the Kidd a copy of his book, Global Warning. The Kidd wasn’t quite sure what to do, a warm drink in one hand and a cold tome in the other.
He laid the book on a side table by the chair, He was almost certain he heard the table sigh and mutter, “Oh, no, not another one.”
“Drink up,” Wayne said, raising his own drink to his lips and taking a sip. “It’s not often we get a toddy drinker in this town. It’s good to have a little sophistication every now and then.”
The Kidd didn’t think of himself as a sophisticate, only somebody with a sore throat from coughing too much.
“What about what the Kibitzer said. Is it true?”
Wayne smiled.
“That Bonnie can whip up some mighty powerful cough drops. Sometimes a whiff of those apothecary fumes can make you say things you normally wouldn’t.”
“So, it’s not true?”
Wayne shrugged. “Many folk around here have claimed they’ve been struck by lightning and then resurrected some time later. I don’t put much stock in it myself.”
The smile on Wayne’s face didn’t ease the feeling of disquiet the Kidd felt rippling just under his skin. Particularly since it was at Wayne’s insistence that the Kibitzer had to sleep I the stable on the edge of town. Not that it was a large town, and a few of the buildings only had facades and nothing behind them. One or two had signs that read: “Coming soon,” but nothing else. At one point in their travels together, the Kidd had heard the Kibitzer use the term Potemkin Village and he wondered if this might be that. The name of this place was Potomac. But there was no river nearby.
“You haven’t touched your toddy.”
The Kidd quickly took a sip. It was tepid now, but still tasted amazingly good. He took a second, long sip.
“Now, I have a question for you, Mr. Kidd.”
Kidd smiled. He rarely heard anybody call him Mr. Kidd. Kidd or hey you was more likely. For the moment, he couldn’t remember what the Kibitzer called him. Probably nothing he wanted to repeat.
Kidd wasn’t his real name, at least not the real name his parents gave him. But he abandoned that name shortly after he abandoned them.
“My question is in your travels have you heard anyone mention or met anyone by the name of John Gore?”
At that moment, the floor-faced man barged into the room. He spotted The Kidd and curled his lip.
“Fire. There’s fire down at the livery.” He said it breathlessly, but not in a good breathless way.
The Kibitzer, the Kidd thought.
“Save my horses. My prize Walkers,” Wayne said.
Wayne was at the door, shoving the floor-faced man out in front of him.
The Kidd put down his toddy on the book and headed for the door.
“Don’t forget your book,” the table said.
The Kidd hesitated.
“Take it, fool,” the table said.
The Kidd snatched it from under the toddy. The cup tipped over and smashed against the floor. Breaking china and escaping toddy skittered and splashed about.
“Oh, Mr. Wayne’s going to be mad. That’s not eco-friendly.”
The Kidd didn’t hear the table. He was down the stairs and almost to the saloon’s swinging front doors when two dark figures stepped in front of him, blocking his way. The Kidd tried going around them, but they would have none of it.
(To be continued…)
What do you mean you don't have a cat? Aren't you human?
Overheard conversation at a cat show where there were over 250 cats representing about 40 different breeds.
Cat fancier to an eight-year-old girl: “Do you have a cat?”
Eight-year-old girl: “No, but I have two guinea pigs.”
Cat fancier: “Cats and guinea pigs can get along.”
Girl: “I also have two dogs.”
Fancier: “Cats and dogs can get along.”
Girl: “I also have two birds.”
Fancier, frowning slightly: “Well, maybe sometime in the future you can have a cat.”
I wonder if Noah had the same problem.
Top of young tree broken by human hand just leaves are budding out.
Touch Nature’s beauty;
even the hand that twists the
tree free of its growth.
Dear Congress,
I want my hour back.
The one you stole from me
To take up all the slack
Of saving energy.
A supercilious stance
Of the previous administration
Is giving me morning headaches
And hours of constipation.
Spring has not yet sprung
But an “extra” hour blooms
We’re supposed to use less fossil fuels
But you were a fool to assume.
You now fight over light bulbs
Some invoking “my right to chose.”
Yet, when robbing me of one hour,
You said I had nothing to lose.
There is no proof this hour
Is saving the country power.
I get up in the night, turn on several lights
As I make my way to the shower.
I use more electricity
As I start each day of work
All because you fell asleep
And forgot to think. What jerks.
You pander to the lobbyist
And engage in high mediocrity.
All the time wasting hours
On political pomposity.
By making daylight longer.
As I’m driving more for less
On gas I’ve forced to squander
While you show little or no regrets.
I’m losing sleep because I cannot be
Awake while the sun still shines
But with a jerk, the hour to start work
Finds me ever more behind.
I want my hour back.
The one you stole from me
And do not counterattack
With your light bulb skullduggery.
Even though my eyes are bleary
And my outlook a bit less cheery
I can still see quite clearly
And let you know sincerely:
I want my hour back.
The one you stole from me
To take up all the slack
Of saving energy.
The heist of some lifetime
Filed under Cartoon, heist, humor, poem, poetry, political humor, politicians, satire, story poem, theater of the absurd
Madness leads my life.
Thunder and snow break my heart.
Tears ring with new ice.
Booker's Blog 
Sign of times: Quality Used Furniture
While the photo is not the clearest it could be, in its own way it may match the hand-painted sign that reads “Quality Used Furniture,” and underneath it are sections of firewood. Could the sign be referring to the birds that once nested in the tree’s branches? To the squirrels, rodents though they may be, that once frolicked about from sturdy limb to sturdy limb as they ventured forth from their squirrel nest? Or is this type of furniture what is meant by rustic or roughing it? Possibly this is a Platonic set of furniture. Furniture glimpsed obliquely and incompletely in its state of perfection.
What do you think it is? Make up your own caption and send it my way. I may list the most interesting ones.
The sign read: Quality Used Furniture
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Filed under bird, Commentary, furniture, humor, nature, Plato, sign of the times, tree, Uncategorized, word play, words, writing
Tagged as commentary, fun, furniture, humor, LinkedIn, nature, Plato, sign of the times, tree, wood, word play, words, writing