Read Scot's Bukowski Could Never Be a Haiku click here

Rainy

Rainy
Spring days awash
Rushing on swift currents
Before drying out dreamy thoughts
Indoors. ... JO's Blog

Crows And Pecks

Early morn' the rooster crows.
"Can't you see I'm trying to sleep?
It's Saturday, you big dumb bird,
be quiet, don't make a peep!"
But the rooster... Click on either rooster to read the rest.

Visions

the wanton twinklings of this sidewalk
like blindspots in my mind
eyes turned to the sky

Zipingku Dam

Zipingpu Reservoir is full of tears and the dam is cracking.

Historic Haiku

A Haiku for you,
a Haiku for me--
Read this tiny, tiny poem.

Stories

EVER WONDERED, ABOUT ALL THOSE STORIES, POEMS, ARTICLES, THOUGHTS, FEELINGS IDEAS BILLIONS AND TRILIONS OF THEM ALL OVER THE WORLD THAT NEVER GOT TRANSALATED INTO PRINT AT ALL…? 2oo metaphors Broken lines Word choices Scattered Messy offices And baskets filled with paper Torn and crushed Tears Empty pens Fingers stained blue black Green and red with blood Spent Sweat washed Saltily down the drain With hopes and dreams Flashbulbs That never came World of a writer Poet Poetess Spurned rejected Volumes of language never Ever published. LIKE IT? HATE IT? VISIT MY BLOG AND GIVE ME FEEDBACK- www.ayeshathom.blogspot.com

Morning Walk

Birds chirp
in glass twinkles.
Dew-drenched droplets raining
In music to soothe my poor soul
with song.

JO's Blog

Thoughts in a graveyard

In a shaded field above a quiet town, Forgotten stones stand askew amid Unkempt grass and overhanging trees. [more]

Little Birds

The time has come
when all your eggs
have hatched, and left the nest.
They all have feathers, everyone,
though different from the rest.
They fly about so far from home,
but they’ll find their way back.
They gather now to sing for you
so glad they all are back.

Please continue reading my Mother's Day Poem.

Sun Remarkable

Sun remarkable,
how like a god your brilliance.
Mystery of life,
Light incomprehensible,
Burning sphere who would be king.

JO's Blog

Lucas

"...A dead Lucas was a salty farm. A bright Lucas, sweaty midnight..." Lucas @ Bad Silhouette.blogspot.com

Dream

Her hair is tightly wound, drawn into a bun at the back of her head- twenty bob-pins and a little gel. She is wearing a black, low-back swimsuit and white tights. And ballerina shoes of course. As we watch, she lifts her arms, slowly, softly…and then she is dancing, twirling, bending, an ecstasy of movement, so purely beautiful. The auditorium is so quiet; you can hear her arms cutting through the air, a whoosh as she spins- it is as if the air is moving with her, jumping here, falling there, flowing around her…you can almost- just almost- see it. The light is cold, white, single, drawing patterns on her black skin, her feet as light as feathers, her eyes closed- iris pulsing beneath. And yet, she radiates heat, those sitting closest, like me, are already sweating. The curve of her back, black, babelicious. A gasp as she stops, frozen in mid-step, and begins to shimmer. At first we think it is our own eyes that deceive us, then blame it on faulty lighting- but no. She is shimmering. Like gossamer, blue oil on water, silk threads in a Cinderella dress… she shimmers. Back flip, she’s solid again, bowing, turning, a hint of a smile on her lips- a private joke with herself. Nobody claps. We just stare- immobile- her fingers pat out a tune in the air- absentmindedly, distracted, her hair is slowly beginning to come undone, her skin glowing, radiating something akin to light but not the same. And then she’s gone. An empty, soundless stage. As if she were never there at all. Like it? Hate it? Give me feedback!! Post a comment and let me know what you think. Visit my blog at www.ayeshathom.blogspot.com I'd love to hear from you!

Graffiti

Many years ago, In a far-away town: I can see you. [more]

Reality

Reality, that thing that lies before me,
that thing I cannot grasp--
a lie I once believed
Get a dose of reality.

Outside/inside

Are you really waiting For a chance to speak, Or simply biding your time? [more]

Racehorses

Rainbow-arrayed vests
at ease while sleek-legged mounts
scratch hooves on rough grass
while groaning rhythmic drum beats
twisted round pent-up fury.

JO's Blog

Here I stand

my hands empty

You can read the rest of this at The Shores of My Dreams

The Almost Complete Ballad Of Tommy Houston

Inspired by the adult works of Shel Silverstein, Tommy Houston was the most notorious outlaw to ever roam the face of the earth. He murdered his first man when he was only 3 years old and was feared by the devil himself. For the first time ever, all 4 parts of the Ballad Of Tommy Houston are presented together for all to enjoy. Warning: Contains graphic content. Follow the link to read The Ballad of Tommy Houston in its entirety.

Whispers

Nature hymns
Dabbing in soft hues
Brush branches
Whispering
Respectful words befitting
A Sanctuary.

JO's Blog