There was a man
who sat at the corner
bus stop.
Beside him was
a paper bag with cups
in it.
Why does he sit
at the corner bus stop
staring?
He is alone,
without a home to go
home to.
What does he see
sitting at the bus stop
alone?
He sees nothing.
There is nothing at all
to see.
Sometimes I feel
like the man at the cor-
ner stop.
Today I’m writing about tanka for my Examiner.com column. So I thought I’d write a sample tanka because I can’t seem to find the one I wrote when I was doing a report on poetry in the 5th grade. Here is what I came up with: I pick up her bowl and recall her furry…
Here’s my haiku for the week: Birds twitter outside Light floods through my window blinds But I am still cold Originally posted on 52 Haiku
Written in 1983. Life is: lessons to be learned dreams to be realized adventures to be experienced. The reason is: getting to know experiencing the new realizing the truth. I want to: learn know experience realize. I want, desire, need to grow.
Remember that short story I mentioned my teacher lost? Well, it keeps calling to me to write it again. Here’s a short scene I did for that project on July 23, 1999. “There he is again, that stinky old man,” she thought as she walked past the bus stop on the way to school. “He…
Here is another poem about D.B., written in 1983. Oh! How I love you, You little ball of fur. Your little booted feet, up to your little white chin. Your long, soft fur is a comfort when I’m sad. Your watchful eyes help me see clearly that you love me as much as I love…
Written in 1983. I see an image made of dust. This is something I cannot trust. But what of broadswords that are thrust? Soon their valor turns to rust.
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