Late Night Haiku XVIII
L. A stream forgotten,
Yet it still flows, will anyone recall
Its existence — ever?
LI. The tree falls noiseless,
No one listening to what passed.
One bird lacks a nest.
LII. Ripple, ripple, the water
Flows by me as I write tonight,
What springs from that muse?
Late Night Haiku XVII
XXXXVII. Anticipation,
A rushing stream runs by me,
Where do those waves go?
XXXXVIII. Thoughts drift like a kite,
Quiet, lest I stir the night,
Lower from this great height.
XXXXVIX. A fish once read Twain's
Huck Fin. He never finished.
He had finite time.
Late Night Haiku XVI
XXXXIV. Tattered, it flutters,
“Is this all there was for me?”
Quoth the butterfly.
XXXXV. Late summer evening,
Not as musical as before,
Bugs sing their last songs.
XXXXVI. Was it yesterday,
That summer's joy passed by me,
While I looked elsewhere?
Chariot Unslowed
“So like an empty coffee cup in June,
The winds of time blow me away too soon,
And so I tremble, question as I fade,
What does a life once lived do as a shade?
As weary sands do shift from dune to dune,
My melody is rift for a new tune.
The clock strikes now, why not tomorrow?
Its sound leaves me with naught but sorrow.”
The people pass, their heavy bags in tow,
As if the winds ne’er rain out a show,
“To shame! To shame! A shade have I become
To me full unawares – whilst beats life’s drum?
Please stop, oh death worn drum! Bring on the lyre!
Extend the wick where burns the fearsome fire!
The clock strikes now, why not tomorrow?
Its sound leaves me with naught but sorrow.”
“A little here I swung at hopes of glory,
Far more I gave to live in money’s story,
I conquered many things, enlarged my realm,
A master of my life I steered the helm!”
What waits for you, old questioner, what port?
What’s left? What mark is left of your great court?
“The clock strikes now, why not tomorrow?
Its sound leaves me with naught but sorrow.
“From days came weeks, from weeks came years misled,
A promise for the next, unkept, unsaid.
Unnoticed for some greater good, I stayed
Upon the safer path I had long strayed,
Further moving myself from my hoped goals,
Ignoring them brought me to greater tolls.
The clock strikes now, why not tomorrow?
Its sound leaves me with naught but sorrow.”
The chimes vibrate the ‘bandoned coffee cup,
It rolls along where he had hoped to sup,
A mix of blinded force and choice did lead,
To this a finished act, unopened deed.
Planned not to fault the thing, the point was missed,
And left to cry once more behind the mist,
“The clock strikes now, why not tomorrow?
Its sound leaves me with naught but sorrow.”
Late Night Haiku XV
XXXXI. A stream babbles on,
Night slips into a new morn,
It is time to move on.
XXXXII. Moving. Seem to be,
But wasn't I hear last year?
Maybe I've not budged.
XXXXIII. Five, Seven, Five. It goes
simply. The Haiku cares not,
It just records thoughts.
Late Night Haiku XIV
XXXVIII. Time. When did it pass?
The winged chariot flew by
When I looked away.
XXXIX. Wind fluttered the leaves,
A friendly voice heard near too,
Fade as distant now.
XXXX. Summer's energy
Burns fast in the waning days,
Do the crickets know?
Late Night Haiku XIII
XXXV. Peaches so very fresh,
Burst with flavor when eaten.
The summer flavor!
XXXVI. Silence emanates
Where a lively voice once talked,
Something fades away.
XXXVII. Birds float, water glistens,
A tree rustles in the heat,
Unrelenting. Warm.
Late Night Haiku XII
XXXII. A locust chirps soft,
A cry for the rush of time
To slow just a bit.
XXXIII. Signs abound to enter
The journey's new, wide roads,
But not exit ramps.
XXXIV. I ask tomorrow
What might perchance to happen.
Answers mix with noise.
Late Night Haiku XI
XXIX.
Confusion abounds,
In the quiet of the night
What treads forward next?
XXX.
What a day it was,
Now conquered by better night,
May sleep come sweetly.
XXXI.
A touch of Spring comes,
Birds rejoice in melody,
Think not of winter.
Late Night Haiku X
XXVI.
Hope erodes at times
To the loneliness of truth,
But it does not die.
XXVII.
Autumn leaves pass by,
Season grows shorter briskly now,
Oh! To slow the end.
XXVIII.
A stream bubbles, faint,
As my thoughts like water flow,
Will they come ashore?
