An old silent pond
A frog jumps into the pond—
Thud! Dried up last year.
After killing
a spider, how noble I feel
in the TV glow!
I write, erase, rewrite
Erase again, and then
Twitter deletes me
Useless, useless,
the heavy rain
On Arkansas coast
In the moonlight,
The color and scent of the wisteria
Seems so Norwegian
Plum flower temple:
Voices rise
From fallout shelters
Everything I touch
with tenderness, alas,
Has comments beneath
The wren
Earns his living
Unlike bad Russians
Over-ripe sushi
The Master has lost track of
His teleprompter
Consider me
As one who loved poetry
And Lockheed-Martin
In the cicada’s cry
No sign can foretell
The next mass shooting
Blowing from the west
Fallen leaves gather
Atop the missiles
Nuclear winter –
Listening, that evening,
To the rain in the mountain
I kill an ant
And realize it was a child
Scared beneath my drone
From time to time
The clouds give rest
Make the best of it we can.
Deep thoughts as haiku
Still need right syllable counts.
I missed several.
David Swanson jests
To bring serious matters
Clearly to our minds.