Perennial Spring
(Tanka, Haiku & R Tanka)

Shall I not show you
Mid-Spring's full harakiri?
Their actuary!
All the fleurs borrow their breath
From her— her killing beauty.

They smell of her scent—
Their own essences repent—
She's a Fore'er Spring.

I have not sent her flowers—
It'd have been pure perfidy—
She's perennial,
And wilting, wasting flowers
Would be a mere guilt.

//Thought for the Night//

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Dear August August
(A Penta (R) Tanka & a Haiku)

Ra's lost his rawness—
Ah, in auroral gladness,
Shines forth his sadness.


//Captioned//

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Mirror: Her Own Metaphor
(A Tanka & a Haiku)

Naught compares to her;
I present’d her a mirror —
Her own metaphor.
She’s as stunning as she is —
Simplicity’s paragon.

For her reflections,
I can’t but deify her —
Naught like anything!


//Thought for the Night//

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Ashes to Eternity
(A Tanka)

Between us, we bore
A virtuous Vestal fire;
The beasts of our frames,
Burnt to ashes on the pyre,
Immortalized the desire.

//Two - close: too far//

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In Spite of Their Spite


I play the devils' advocate—
To implicate myself.
As I slip in their shoes,
I sing them their elegies.

I judge them not;
Prejudice is seldom well-thought—
It's but self-effacing.
In spite of their spite,
Ain't I wisely mad?
I keep being just right.

I oft play bad,
Lest they become sad.
Ain't I wisely mad?!

//Thought for the Night//

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The Redemption
(A Haiku)

I've loved things ugly —
Love creates its own beauty —
With a vengeance, aye!

//Thought for the Night - II //

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Biting the Forbidden Apple
(Double Tanka & Haiku)


I miss you near me—
Whenever you can hear me,
I say naught at all.

//Captioned//

//Thought for the Night//

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Suffering Is a Choice
(Triple Tanka & Haiku)

Suffering's a choice;
In sorrows we oft rejoice.
Intelligence hurts —
Mere jesters' joys ain't too coy;
Duffers have lots of buffer.

Happiness isn't scarce
When you play it like a farce.
It's not in the stars
To strive for what is within:
The power to celebrate.

One man's lullaby
Is another man's alarm —
Stimuli can lie.
We can spurn the obvious
Without much ado and fuss.

In your reflections
Lies the last analysis
Of many a choice.

//Thought for the Day//

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The Joy of Last(ing) Love
(A Haiku)

I loved and I lost.
My sorrows are over—past;
Freed from the bondage.

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The Blooms She Brings

Her black eyes' twinkle
Sprouts many a periwinkle
In my autumnal heart.

//Thought for the Night//

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