For more information, including the origin of Honku, please visit the official website:
www.honku.org



Clogging traffic flow
twin, brake riders in the lane,
they're really a pain.



America's love -
Unsupervised car racing
on our new highways.



Rubbernecking state:
Welcome to Connecticut,
spend more time on road.



Suggestion only?
Painted lines are optional
for lane straddlers.



Forget the roadkill!
Rubberneckers demonstrate...
Lust for dead bodies.

De las Casas records in stark numbers the genocide that took place under Columbus and the Spaniards, writing that when he first came to Hispaniola in 1508, "there were 60,000 people living on this island, including the Indians; so that from 1494 to 1508, over three million people had perished from war, slavery, and the mines. Who in future generations will believe this? I myself writing it as a knowledgeable eyewitness can hardly believe it...."[80]

Columbus and his brothers lingered in jail for six weeks before busy King Ferdinand ordered their release. Not long after, the king and queen summoned the Columbus brothers to the Alhambra palace in Granada. There the royal couple heard the brothers' pleas; restored their freedom and wealth; and, after much persuasion, agreed to fund Columbus's fourth voyage. But the door was firmly shut on Columbus's role as governor. Henceforth Nicolás de Ovando y Cáceres was to be the new governor of the West Indies

Cool flowing waters
cater me with plenty of…
Aquatic playmates.

Smallmouth and largemouth –
Either kind acceptable,
if they are landed.

Get them in the boat!
Fishing stories without proof
are just plain-faced lies.

Imitating bugs?
Fishing is an art form of…
Posing as insects.

The splashing fishes
are vying for attention
during school’s recess.


Author Note:

Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://www.squidoo.com/book-isbn-1419650513/

By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2009, All rights reserved.

Hasta la pasta?
Annoying filament knots
of spaghetti spools.


The squeals of delight
flow from all fishing children
with uncontained joy.


Sounds of spinning spools
always brings me much comfort,
for I’m not at work.


Floating down the stream?
Not a dream, after dropping…
A bag of bobbers.


In early morning
anxious fish are awaiting
the autumn school bells.



Author Note:

Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://www.squidoo.com/book-isbn-1419650513/

By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2006, All rights reserved.

Lures, flies and spinners
provide variety for
multiple techniques.


Casting carefree lines
the sportsmen and women look…
For fishy hook-ups.


Moonlight over pines –
Adds a touch of elegance
to nighttime fishing.


Daytime sea trollers
combine leisure travel
and hands-free fishing.


The ignorant fish –
Unaware of keepers of…
Life’s aquarium.


Author Note:

Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://www.squidoo.com/book-isbn-1419650513/

By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2009, All rights reserved.

Breaching the surface
largemouth jumps up to see if…
It can hold its breath.


The pregnant fishes
lounge upon the riverbed
waiting to give birth.


Dancing smallmouth bass
pirouettes around boat
looking for handouts.


Learning never ends!
For even the fish will stay…
Forever in school.


Protective coating:
Slimy perspective to us;
Life saving to them.




Author Note:

Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://www.squidoo.com/book-isbn-1419650513/

By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2006, All rights reserved.

Well, thish-yer Smiley had rat-tarriers, and chicken *****, and tom- cats, and all of them kind of things, till you couldn't rest, and you couldn't fetch nothing for him to bet on but he'd match you. He ketched a frog one day, and took him home, and said he cal'klated to edercate him; and so he never done nothing for three months but set in his back yard and learn that frog to jump. And you bet you he did learn him, too. He'd give him a little punch behind, and the next minute you'd see that frog whirling in the air like a doughnut see him turn one summerset, or may be a couple, if he got a good start, and come down flat-footed and all right, like a cat. He got him up so in the matter of catching flies, and kept him in practice so constant, that he'd nail a fly every time as far as he could see him. Smiley said all a frog wanted was education, and he could do most any thing and I believe him. Why, I've seen him set Dan'l Webster down here on this floor Dan'l Webster was the name of the frog and sing out, "Flies, Dan'l, flies!" and quicker'n you could wink, he'd spring straight up, and snake a fly off'n the counter there, and flop down on the floor again as solid as a gob of mud, and fall to scratching the side of his head with his hind foot as indifferent as if he hadn't no idea he'd been doin' any more'n any frog might do. You never see a frog so modest and straightforward as he was, for all he was so gifted. And when it come to fair and square jumping on a dead level, he could get over more ground at one straddle than any animal of his breed you ever see. Jumping on a dead level was his strong suit, you understand; and when it come to that, Smiley would ante up money on him as long as he had a red. Smiley was monstrous proud of his frog, and well he might be, for fellers that had traveled and been everywheres, all said he laid over any frog that ever they see.


Mark Twain

eyes are the first thing I notice when I look at you, but that's not all I look at.

From your beatifully tamed strands of black hair, to the bottoms of your sneakers. However, your eyes are what captivate me the way they do.

Beautifully dark brown, round as diameter, staring through my soul the way they stare at open books dedicated to you, the novels of poetry made in your honor even before you were born.

Eyes

the cells that my heart is chained in.

Your eyes

the attention grabbing, free roaming palace where I intend to stay. Swimming in your eyes as if around a pool, and you know I stare, because you always look back.

They say if you look at the sun too long,
An image of it is burned in your eyes,
Well, I must have looked at you too long,
‘Cause your image is a 3rd degree burn,
And every second I spend breathing,
I see you.
I feel you.
I ache you.
I bleed you.
I need you.
I gauge you.

But I run.
I run from you.
And I hate myself.
Every length of my being.
I hate myself because,
You are me.


-April 21st 2013

Sat in the window seat
of the olde English cottage.
The open bow window
providing natures salted
air conditioning from the sea.
Breaking waves below the cliffs.
the only noise in the starlit night.
I turned to see your face
the one that takes
my breath away and
Fills my heart
with hopes and dreams.
Your lips open slightly
the words
I love you
are on the tip of your tongue.
They have no need to be spoken.
Because I can feel your heart
beating with mine and I know it.
You found me and rosebud cottage.
I know one day your memory
may return
that you may have
a wife and children.
And the loss of you
will be too much
for me to bear.
So we sat there
with the sea below us
and the stars above us.
I whispered
I love you darling.
But for now for this moment
I was happy once again.

and he had a little small bull pup, that to look at him you'd think he wan's worth a cent, but to set around and look ornery, and lay for a chance to steal something. But as soon as money was up on him, he was a different dog; his underjaw'd begin to stick out like the fo'castle of a steamboat, and his teeth would uncover, and shine savage like the furnaces. And a dog might tackle him, and bully- rag him, and bite him, and throw him over his shoulder two or three times, and Andrew Jackson which was the name of the pup Andrew Jackson would never let on but what he was satisfied, and hadn't expected nothing else and the bets being doubled and doubled on the other side all the time, till the money was all up; and then all of a sudden he would grab that other dog jest by the j'int of his hind leg and freeze on it not chew, you understand, but only jest grip and hang on till they thronged up the sponge, if it was a year. Smiley always come out winner on that pup, till he harnessed a dog once that didn't have no hind legs, because they'd been sawed off by a circular saw, and when the thing had gone along far enough, and the money was all up, and he come to make a ****** for his pet bolt, he saw in a minute how he'd been imposed on, and how the other dog had him in the door, so to speak, and he 'peered sur- prised, and then he looked sorter discouraged-like, and didn't try no more to win the fight, and so he got shucked out bad. He give Smiley a look, as much as to say his heart was broke, and it was his fault, for putting up a dog that hadn't no hind legs for him to take bolt of, which was his main dependence in a fight, and then he limped off a piece and laid down and died. It was a good pup, was that Andrew Jackson, and would have made a name for hisself if he'd lived, for the stuff was in him, and he had genius I know it, because he hadn't had no opportunities to speak of, and it don't stand to reason that a dog could make such a fight as he could under them circumstances, if he hadn't no talent. It always makes me feel sorry when I think of that last fight of his'n, and the way it turned out.


Mark Twain