BORNE on the low lake wind there floats to me,
Out of the distant hill, a sigh of bells,
Mystic, worshipful, almost unheard,
As though the past should answer me, and I
In pagan solitude bow down my head.

He smells like chlorine,
like a lake.
I want to jump in,
submerge myself.
He is sweet and satisfying,
like your favorite ice cream
on the hottest day of the year.
He is funny
like a child
providing cheap thrills.
He is lovely
like a gorgeous autumn day,
so perfect it leaves you breathless.
They say there are plenty of fish in the sea,
but this one's mine
and I am happy with my catch.

She walked across the room,
Blinding all around as she went by,
Too beautiful and too stunning to hold,
Too lovely to have amity with.
Good only for dreaming about,
And falling in love with once,
Till she exits the room,
And gravity reenters behind her.

I am a liar or
A storyteller,
Which I prefer.
You can’t find me
In my photo albums;
A different girl
Every year.
I paint many masks
And spin many tales
Just so I can
Finally
Hear anything
I can call my own.
Here is my heart
In essence,
Which isn’t necessarily
In truth,
Though I try
To fit the image.
So many
Separate
Profiles;
All less than a
Fraction
Of a whole.
But who’s to judge
Reality,
Or truth?
Call it equation;
Boil it down to
Numbers, but
Everything
Has variables.

So I’m a liar -
So is the sun,
Shining cold and
Distant
In winter;
So are you,
Pretending.
Calculate the image
Lest you leave
A jumble of
Meaningless
Numbers, just so
Many digits and
Too few faces.

The trees stand proud above the ground
And people stand below
Up in the air without a care
Those people never know

The snow will fall, white trees stand tall
The people below will freeze
Towering like nobles above it all
The people detest their ease

Giant and grand those trees do stand
The hatred begins to rise
The men demand to have command
And trees meet their demise

Towers of smoke, the trees will choke
Rising higher and taller each day
The burning hate the sight does create
As The fire devours its prey

Years fly past, trees gone at last
All it's fuel is burnt
The trees fell fast, just a thing of the past
The men move on nothing learnt

Upon the ground where trees stood proud
Sit only death and fear
Without a sound nor life to be found
No life returned back here

The snow did fall but no trees stand tall
Still only rotting stumps
No trace of flowers or green leaves at all
Only frozen clumps

did you know haikus
don't always have to make sense?
hippopotamus.