Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Red Dec 2020
Today I sit and think about words. They are hesitant.
I am at a deficit of emotions to harness and understand.
Other poets ring true and sound curious.
Is it so difficult? A plane sounds overhead. Maybe
passing my thoughts in those clouds, full of rain and
judgement. A bolt of lighting could strike at any moment
and threaten the serenity of which my mind hallucinates.

Opaque skies of grey
Wounded thoughts mix with raindrops.
A storm approaches
This is my first Haibun!
Paige Sep 2020
I sit at my table and chair. I am content in my solitude. My laptop calls for me. Oh the hustle and bustle of our society requires us to be present at all times. There is no time to dawdle. Even on free days, we check emails and rush to beat the morning traffic while running errands. I look out the window. There is a daisy where leaves usually grow. A new sign of life. Invigorating and riveting for me to observe.

Why should I worry
at the much unexpected?
Unpredictable
The definition of life
only to be forgotten
I wrote this a few months ago, I didn't realise it's been so long since I've updated my page! I posted this poem earlier on allpoetry too :) https://allpoetry.com/poem/15092190-Morning-slowness--haibun-draft--by-Misshuabei
Mark Toney May 2020
Greetings.  We received your toxic tax documents today; proceeded to immerse them in the de-cootie wash for precisely 30 minutes; then showered them with Gamma Ray’s, which is not what you think it is, but rather a high powered barbecue sauce (made by some Texan’s grandma) that’s strong enough to knock those little ****** viruses back to China where they came from.  The only problem is, by the time we detoxified your tax documents, no print was left and the paper had the consistency of TP.  So, you guessed it, seein’ as how TP is more or less the top selling commodity worldwide as such, I put it up for sale on eBay and made enough money where I can retire and never do taxes again.  So, I want to thank you for supplying the seed that germinated my newfound wealth, and I’m happy to inform you that you’ll be receiving an autographed copy of my soon to be published book, which I thoughtfully titled “CORNFED-19 Pandamick—Making Lemonade From Lemons” by T. P. Roller (which happens to be my Sudo-Numb).  Have a nice evening!

opportunity
most zany woodpecker knocks—
heh-heh-heh-hehhhh-heh


© 2020 Mark Toney.  All rights reserved.
5/2/2020 - Poetry form: Haibun - This is a zany, flight of fancy, inspired by my secular profession after 4 weeks of lockdown!  The resulting haiku is inspired by Woody Woodpecker—created by Walter Lantz and Ben Hardaway—a cartoon that appeared in theatrical short films produced by the Walter Lantz Studio and distributed by Universal Studios.  Woody Woodpecker first appeared in the short film "Knock, Knock" (November 25, 1940).  Woody Woodpecker's unforegettable signature laugh begins with "heh-heh-heh-hehhhh-heh," which works well for my purpose since it has 5 syllables!  (Woody Woodpecker | Wikipedia)  TMI? Oh, my! - © 2020 Mark Toney.  All rights reserved.
I was so excited that I couldn’t sleep. Many thoughts running through my mind, most of them questions to the void. Would I finish my work in time? Would I ever try to catch a falling fork again? Would I crash on the way to pick him up? Would my heart skip a beat when I saw him? Would I be able to get everything done today? I was hoping everything would work out wonderfully, but I wasn’t going to lose to the reality of the situation. He was coming to see me from afar. I was coming to get him. Passion was the motivation. Love was the reason. I was in pain, but it didn’t stop me from my destination. I was going to see him for the first time in 11 months. That was reason enough to ignore my emotional unstable state of being.


From the sky, my love descended. He traveled from a far to lovingly look into my eyes.
This is one of my UA poems. I really like the haibun style. I'll be using is again. Written 10-17-2011.
I was travelling to the place where I come from. The anniversary of my grandmother slapping a nun, otherwise known as my mother’s birthday, was a day away. I lost myself in the groove of my earphones to substitute my lost car radio. Suddenly, as if attacked by an imaginary beast, a strange sound could be heard beyond my earphones. My wind rider also became harder to control, so I let it come to a stop on its own. I investigated my chariot of transportation and discovered that I was now unable to go further. I was stuck between two cities and not close enough for me to walk for assistance. A kind strange happened by and helped me in my dilemma. I am very grateful to him. Because of his generosity, I was able to continue on my journey.

I was driving my van
When my tire exploded
I had no spare
So I was stuck there
Between Tuscaloosa and Centreville.
I was lucky that man
Happened to turn around.
It was a blessing.
This is one of my UA poems. Written 10-7-2011
Mark Toney Nov 2019
When I was growing up in Wisconsin, dairy farms were everywhere.  It was always fun visiting my aunt and uncle's dairy farm, even though they put me to work.  For many years the only bathroom they had was away from the house!  I read an article today about people complaining about smells coming from dairy farms and pig farms.  It reminded me when our family would drive the 3 1/2 hours to visit Grandma and Grandpa.  Some farms hardly had any bad odor, but others reeked!  This was especially horrible to us city kids.  "Mom, what's that smell?" my sisters and I would ask every time.  We asked Mom because she'd answer us.  Dad would only laugh.  Good times!  

Midwest dairy farms
intermittent putrid stench-
fun childhood road trips
10/28/2019 - Poetry form: Haibun - Copyright © Mark Toney | Year Posted 2018
Logan Robertson Sep 2019
The Elephants At The Zoo

The elephants at the zoo, lumbering in their cells, like deadwood floating downstream, where the mouth is closed. When kids arrive they put on a show. It brings them minute happiness to see the smiles, hear the laughter and to look into the eyes of freedom.


As the day moves on, it's a blur, as the sunny disposition is weathered and fake. Each movement of the trunks, calculated, silenced and each passing face, a tear.


Such sadness their eyes
Windows wide open to see
Pantomimes of hope


Logan Robertson

9/16/2019
Each trip to the zoo, storybook. There's a tale to tell. Even those in silence,
ALesiach Jul 2019
In the shadows of the acorn tree, watching the squirrels race around gathering acorns. Their busy little hands rotating them, examining each acorn. Hoarding them, even brawling with other squirrels for access to the best trees. Daring acrobats that risk life and limb to collect them from the willowy ends of branches.

Trees full of acorns
daring acrobat squirrels
hoards little brown nuts

ALesiach © 07/28/20187
Rama Krsna Jul 2019
Cuddled in bed au naturel, legs twisted around that sculpted waist, I smell the english rose in the silky strands of your hennaed hair. But it’s his vetiver-tinged cologne sprawled over your swan-like neck which suffocates me.

An empty pack of Marlboro, after our hurried twist under the satin sheets,  is all that remains. Your distracted eyes during that last puff give it away. It’s our love that will go up in smoke.

continental drift
engineered by stealthy time ~~
shards of broken glass


© 2019
Next page