Haiku

This hazardous street! Squirrel on a power line crosses it safely. - Jeff Barnes

Haiku

House where that dog lived -- realtor sign by the old tree, tulips by the walk. - Jeff Barnes

To Hymen (A poem for National Pencil Day)

It was on the 30th of March, 1858 that a stationer named Hymen Lipman made the pencil great by patenting a model with an eraser attached so that errors could be rubbed out instead of merely scratched.

So let us all give thanks to dear Hymen

for making writing more facile.

It's because of him that correcting errors

is no longer such a hassle. - Jeff Barnes

Haiku

Late February --
Crow walks the newly thawed street,
drinks from a puddle. - Jeff Barnes

The Death of Death (With apologies to Emily Dickinson)

Because I would not stop for Death he chased me down the street. Clackety-clack-clack went the sound of his bony feet.

People stopped and stared at us as we passed them by. A jazz musician waved his hat which looked like a pork pie.

Death raised his scythe up high,

intending to strike me down,

but a passing dog tripped him up

and he fell hard upon the ground.

He broke apart on impact. His bones scattered every which way. Every dog in the neighborhood enjoyed a treat that day. -- Jeff Barnes

Haiku

Ghosts hang from branches,
dance and wave like real spirits --
late October wind.  - Jeff Barnes

Swanwick House

Come visit us at Swanwick House
where everybody is dead.
Lady Marceline will greet you
in her flowing dress of deep red.

You'll find she has a most charming smile

if you can break through her reserve.

She passed away two hundred years ago

but as you can see, she is well preserved.

Come join us at our table.

Please don't mind that we are dead.

We put evaporated milk in our tea

and spread blackberry jam on stale bread.

Come sit down and feast with us

and join us in conversation.

We think you will enjoy our stories.

They span hundreds of generations.

We are quite mirthful at Swanwick House

even though we are all dead.

Uncle Leopold makes us all laugh

every time he removes his head.

Ghosts fly in and out of our windows.

They frolic each night with the bats.

in bed we always feel the kneading

of the paws of all our deceased cats.

We don't belong to the world of the living,

but don't think of ourselves in the past tense.

Our closets are full of skeletons,

and I mean that in a literal sense.

We offer you shelter and company.

We bid you come in out of the rain.

We will welcome you into our family.

We invite you to come in and remain. - Jeff Barnes