Worst Christmas Haiku Ever

What a place to die! Stink bug in the litter box this Christmas morning. - Jeff Barnes

Haiku

 Frozen in the sky
as if in morning sun's thrall --
winter solstice moon. -  Jeff Barnes

The Smells of Christmas, 1965: A Haiku Sequence

I watch Christmas lights
outside the kitchen window.
Mom's sugar cookies.

Gotta be saintly

lest Santa Claus pass me by.

Turkey's almost done.

Best present ever!

Mattel's Creeple Peeple set!

Stinky Plastigoop! - Jeff Barnes

Almost October

A barely visible half moon hovers in the pale blue sky.

Leaves glow yellow on the trees as the day begins to die.

Slowly the world

becomes more quiet.

Even the wind

is a mere whisper.

The only urgency

is in the crickets'

chirping as the night

grows crisper. -- Jeff Barnes

Haiku

Pumpkin orange sun -- open field fading to night -- eve of October -- Jeff Barnes

Orange Wedding

Two days after

the equinox the landscape

was still mostly green

under a gray sky,

but what the trees lacked

in autumn pigment

we made up for,

you with your orange

and yellow tie-dyed

dress and your bouquet

of gerbera daisies

in all the colors of fire,

I with my

orange boutonniere

and goofy striped

stovepipe hat.

Maybe it was synchronicity

that our minister, having forgone

her official robe,

arrived for the ceremony

clad in a pumpkin hued kurta

to bless our union

in the days just before

the leaves began to

dance in the wind

and the land began to

look more fiery than

the sky at sunset. - Jeff Barnes

Bad Poetry Day

 Today is Bad Poetry Day,
so I will not write a poem that is good.
I will instead opt for the poetic equivalent
of a movie written and directed by Ed Wood.

The rhymes might be imperfect

and the meter might be off.

I've no doubt  that all the literati

will look down their noses and scoff.

It  is never going to win

the Bollingen Poetry Prize.

It's so shitty that it will do nothing

except fester and possibly attract flies.

You might not think it's as good

as a poem written by Wallace Stevens.

If you manage to find someone who cares,

then feel free to air your grievance.

This poem is worse than mediocre.

One might say it's unequivocally infernal.

I've no illusions that it will ever be published

in any respectable literary journal.

I hope that any critic who may read it

will call it an unmitigated disaster,

for this a time to wane poetic.

This is a day to be a poetaster. - Jeff Barnes

King Kong in Paris

He strolls the banks of the Seine,
looking sharp in a black beret.
He's on his dream vacation in Paris,
celebrating Bastille Day.

He feels a bit dejected

if not exactly surprised

that not one of the outdoor cafes

has a table for someone his size.

No matter where he may go,

everybody will scream and flee.

He means no harm to anyone.

He just wants to enjoy some wine and brie.

When he climbs onto the Eiffel Tower

he is attacked by fighter jets.

He swats at them in self-defense

with a fifty-foot long baguette.

He finally admits to himself

that he is wildly out of place.

He will never again make the mistake

of trusting the human race.

He swims back to his home on Skull Island,
putting an early end to his vacation.

Obviously, he has had enough

of what humans call civilization. - Jeff Barnes

I just finished this poem today, Bastille Day.  It was actually inspired by a design on a t-shirt I own. - JB

A Question of Wholeness

If you buy a
donut hole

and use it to fill a

donut's hole

will it make the

donut whole? - Jeff Barnes

Mowing Cambodia

Sweat runs down my face like the blood of three million victims. I have been mowing Cambodia.

I trim close to the neglected flower beds that lie all around the house like mass graves and swerve to avoid stones for fear they might be covering landmines.

When I pick up

branches in my path they turn

to bones in my hand.

I turn off the mower and relish the silence

for a few seconds before I hear birds

fly over like bombers. -- Jeff Barnes

Penultimate

Two lonely graves

sit side by side a universe apart.

My grandparents are estranged in death

as they were in life.

My sister died piecemeal,

losing a little of herself

every day for twenty years,

her muscles knotting and her legs failing,

her vision blurring and her words slurring,

her brain regressing

until she drowned

in her own lungs.

My father is a box of cremains.

His exit was swifter if less lamented.

He rests on a shelf in the mortuary,

unclaimed after all these years.

My mother is fading to white.

Her hair is as white as her face,

her face as white as her pillow.

She shrinks a little more

each day and eventually

will dissolve into her sheets.

This cloistered road

is my favorite place in October.

Driving through this tunnel of trees

every day I savor

the fiery leaves contrasting

the gray sky.

I will savor them every day

before they fall,

leaving bare branches reaching up

like the hands of skeletons. -- Jeff Barnes

The Ballad of Woody and Rita

Woody Canoebubble always wore
a Hawaiian shirt, Bermuda shorts,
sandals, and a Peruvian hat.
One morning he spilled hot coffee
on his left knee because,
unbeknownst, to him he was using
a false cup and saucer
which couldn’t hold liquid at all.

Realizing that he was out of
band-aids and salve, 
he walked to the drugstore to get some,
accompanied by his pet,
a sparse dove named Dave,
who was never up to flying but always
rode on Woody’s Peruvian hat.

The cashier at the drugstore
was a redhead named Rita,
whose smile made her face
resemble an incised moon.

Woody told her he was fascinated
by her shuttlecock volva 
and her striped engina
and she almost slapped him until
she realized he was speaking of
the seashells she kept on 
the counter for luck.

He called her Strawberry Top
because of her red hair and
said he had fallen in love with her.
She said she had always
found love to be an unequal, bittersweet
thing, but he promised her it would not
be so this time.

He asked Rita to marry him
and she agreed to do so
at 4:00, when she got off work.
He came back for her at 4:00
and, because of her sensitive skin,
she put on a heavy bonnet
when they left the store.

After walking around the city a while
they happened upon a cathedral
where they met a bishop wearing
a ghastly mitre but, despite that,
he seemed a nice enough fellow
and agreed to marry them on the spot.

After the ceremony, the three of them
(Woody, Rita, and Dave the sparse dove)
thanked the bishop, took a taxi
to the airport and, flying on a new
airline called Atlantic Turkey Wing,

embarked on their honeymoon. — Jeff Barnes

Post-Mother Mother's Day Haiku

Rainy Mother's Day.
we have no plans anyway.
Just another day. - Jeff Barnes

Walpurgis Night

The wind blows cold tonight,
yet there is a festive mood.
Witches on their broomsticks
are flying in the nude.

Bonfires light the night,

The sky is gray and sober.

We celebrate the Eve of May,

though it feels more like October.

Tomorrow may be sunny.

The Earth may be warm and green.

But this night is darkly mirthful

and feels like Hallowe'en. - Jeff Barnes

Haiku

Morning? Afternoon?
Who can tell? This day will be
gray until nightfall. - Jeff Barnes

Hitting Ezra Pound with a Stick

The "golden shovel" is a fun poetic form to work with. Here are the rules for the Golden Shovel:

Take a line (or lines) from a poem you admire.

Use each word in the line (or lines) as an end word in your poem.

Keep the end words in order.

Give credit to the poet who originally wrote the line (or lines).

The new poem does not have to be about the same subject as the poem that offers the end words.

If you pull a line with six words, your poem would be six lines long. If you pull a stanza with 24 words, your poem would be 24 lines long. And so on.

Here is the original poem:

In a Station of the Metro

The apparition of these faces in the crowd;

Petals on a wet, black bough. - Ezra Pound

And here's the golden shovel poem I wrote, based on it:

Ezra, Waiting for a Train

When I saw Ezra Pound in the

subway station, I thought he was an apparition.

Was there something I'd had too much of?

Alcohol? Weed? No, I'd long ago given up these.

But of all the faces

I ever imagined I would see in

this station, his was the

last. He stood out in the crowd,

and I don't mean he was pretty, like flower petals.

He had the most godawful plaid jacket on

and his beard was all scraggly, like a

shaggy dog that has gotten wet.

I told him his poetry was like a black

hole. Then I hit him with a tree bough. - Jeff Barnes

Remodel

New siding has replaced
the shingles, all rotting
and warped.
New windows
have given it a new face,
topped by a new roof.

Had I not known it,

I would not have

recognized it.

This "new" house

was Mom's old one.

Nobody has lived here

for almost nine years.

Now it waits

for new dwellers

to settle in, 

unmindful of memories

forever sealed

like Fortunato. - Jeff Barnes

Featherless Biped (with apologies to Emily Dickinson)

"Hope is the thing with feathers."
That's what Emily Dickinson said.
But what, I ask, is this featherless thing
that is clinging to my head?

It clutches me in terror,

fearing it will fall,

for its wings are bare and useless.
It cannot fly at all.

Maybe this once was hope,

but its feathers have been plucked.

Now it knows as I do,

we are well and truly fucked. - Jeff Barnes

For a more positive outlook, read Emily Dickinson's original poem

Haiku for World Penguin Day

Bikinis? Speedos?
Penguins don't need them.  They swim
wearing tuxedos! - Jeff Barnes

My Friend Godfrey

My friend Godfrey measures eleven feet
from the top of his head down to his toes.
He has two miniature LED headlights
mounted on each side of his nose.

He's got  two purple eyes. They are in the usual place,

but he has ten more on the tips of his fingers,

which makes it impossible for him to play a guitar

though he is quite an impressive singer.

Godfrey has two powerful silver wings.

When he needs to go anywhere he can  just fly.

People often mistake him for an angel

when they see him soar high in the sky.

He has green skin and yellow lips

and a headful of daisies instead of hair.

But everyone likes him when they get to know him

for he is quite charming and debonair. - Jeff Barnes

The Love Song of J. Alfred Pruneface (With apologies to T.S. Eliot)

Let us go, then, me and you while the sky has a deep gray hue, much like my gloomy mood when I stand before the mirror, nude, and see my body, which was never great, now all saggy and overweight.

In the room I come and go,

wondering if I should try gingko.

It might help my declining brain.

Perhaps I should buy Rogaine,

for my hair is growing thin.

I have a turkey neck below my chin.

Maybe I should consider Botox,

for I know I'm no silver fox.

I should be a pair of ragged claws,

scuttling across the ocean bottom.

Wrinkles? Crow's feet? Splotchy age spots?

Check. Check. Check. I've got 'em.

I'm well into my dismal autumn.

Here's a thought with which to grapple:

Do I dare to eat an apple?

I don't dare to eat a peach

or wear a Speedo at the beach.

I've seen the mermaids in the water.

Each looks young enough to be my daughter.

Their voices sound sweet when they are singing,

yet their words are cruel and stinging,

for their song is all about me

and how I resemble a manatee.

I think I'll go home and watch TV

and have a cup of chamomile tea

before I slink beneath the covers

and dream about imaginary lovers. - Jeff Barnes

This is, of course, a parody of T.S. Eliot's The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock. While my poem doesn't have the literary elegance of the original, I think it is more fun to read. Sorry, T.S.

Truck Nuts and Tattooed Butts

 I park my pickup truck in the yard
'cause they ain't no room in my garage.
I fly a Confederate flag outside
and my favorite color is huntin' camouflage.

I got a toilet bowl flower pot

settin' on my front lawn.

Truck nuts and tattooed butts

are the things that turn me on.

I go to church on Sunday mornin'

and my Klan meetin' on Sunday night

'cause you know I sure love Jesus

(the one in the pictures, who is white).

My parents are first cousins.

My sister married her brother.

We keep it in the family 'cause

we don't trust no others.

I don't need to see no doctor

'cause I take meth to sooth my pain.

Don't like to bathe too much 'cause

the only thing I want washed is my brain. - Jeff Barnes

Three Purple Grackles

Three purple grackles, just before dawn
flew to my house and sat on my lawn.

Three purple grackles perched in my tree

and looked through my bedroom window at me.

Three purple grackles outside my front door

listened to my footsteps as I paced the floor.

Three purple grackles at eventide

flew at me when I walked outside.

Three purple grackles landed on my head,

tore and pecked at me until I was dead.

Three purple grackles on my funeral day

followed my hearse as it drove away.

Three purple grackles won't leave me in peace

as they circle my grave without surcease. - Jeff Barnes

Graves

Four people,  two in each grave. Two coffins and two ash boxes.
My sister, my grandparents, and my mother. They are all here.
My family. Well, more or less. Father's ashes weren't invited. - Jeff Barnes

Charlatan

 Possessed of great talent and intellect,
yet always kind and empathetic --
that's the image you try to project,
but those who know you know you're pathetic.

Your wit is as sharp as a machete

that has been rusting for 37 weeks,

your logic as scattered as confetti

falling like fake snow on the streets.

In your yard you have a statue of Buddha.

You kowtow before it every day,

but your smile reminds me of a barracuda

just before it devours its prey.

Your true nature is as sweet as chocolate mousse

that has been pissed on by a caribou.

I hope and pray that you will never reproduce.

We don't need anyone else like you. - Jeff Barnes

Haiku

Sunday, almost noon --
cat sniffing the April breeze
knows all he needs to. - Jeff Barnes

Haiku

Early morning moon --
you're also reluctant to
let go of the night.  - Jeff Barnes

Road Trip

 A cockatiel
asked a seal
how he'd feel
about driving
an automobile.
"For real?"
asked the seal.
"Yes!" said the cockatiel.
So they climbed into
an International Scout
that was painted teal
with the seal
behind the wheel.
The tires squealed
as he pealed out
in the convertible Scout.
The seal stuck his snout
in the air and
began to shout
with glee,
"The open road
is the life for me!
I feel exuberant 
and free!"
"Wheeeee!
I agree!"
said the cockatiel
with glee.
They drive every day,
going every which way
you might see them someday
maybe even today
on the highway
so don't hesitate to say,
"Hello, Neil!" 
and, "Hello, Camille!"
for those are 
the respective names
of the seal
and cockatiel. - Jeff Barnes

Inheritance

Mom's anxiety
and Dad's coffee addiction --
bad combination! - Jeff Barnes

Peace Broke Out

 Peace broke out one morning.
The politicians didn't know what to think.
The tanks approaching the border
all stopped running and turned bright pink.

The guns quit firing bullets.

Nobody knew quite how,

but the only things they would discharge

were flags that read, "Bang!" and "Pow!"

The battlefield abounded with flowers

colorful and varied.

They sprang up in every spot

where a land mine had been buried.

Even the bombs and missiles

turned into birds and flew away.

The soldiers knew they were going home

and that nobody would die that day. - Jeff Barnes

Awakening

He always thought the sun was yellow
but this morning it came up blue.
He looked outside and saw crimson grass
shining brightly with morning dew.

When he looked in the bathroom mirror

he scarcely believed what he'd seen.

He thought his skin was creamy and light,

but this morning it was chartreuse green.

His eyes had turned from blue to marigold,

but what he found especially weird

was that his hair had turned electric purple.

(So, by the way, had his beard.)

He had seen dolphins many times before

but he never knew they could fly.

Yet there they were wildly frolicking

in the tangerine colored sky.

A pink moose came to his front door

and assured him that things were all right.

What he thought had been reality

was just a dream he had last night. - Jeff Barnes

In the Year 2021

 We don't have a moon base
or a shuttle service to Mars,
starships, teleportation,
robot servants, or flying cars.

We don't wear silver jumpsuits

or zoom around on jetpacks,

but we have flat Earthers and evolution deniers,

and the Cold War and Jim Crow are back. - Jeff Barnes

Substitute Grandfather

 On the rare occasions
I'm back in our old town
I drive by the house
you lived in
and remember
the coziness of 
your living room
and the cheerfulness
of your sun porch

and how we bonded

over our mutual love

of science fiction and

the oddities of the universe

and, of course, our

hatred of TV evangelists.

You were like the grandfather

I always wished I'd had,

encouraging me to write,

to be a free thinker,

remain curious about all things

and to enjoy every moment

of life that I could.

(So unlike my real grandfather.)

You would say that

you left this world

at just the right time

in your life,

but you left it

much too early

in mine. - Jeff Barnes

Debris

Whenever I pass
that dying old mall
I think of our dinners
at the Chinese buffet
and how you would criticize
everything I ate:
"Too many noodles,
not enough broccoli"
and "Cheese wontons
are an abomination,"
ad infinitum

and I see many

of the godawful movies

you dragged me to,

now available

in the five dollar DVD bins

at various stores.

You don't know how many

times I was tempted,

when I picked you up

for our dates, to say

"Are you ready?  

Put on your frown

and let's be off!"

I remember the

wooden yo-yo

and plastic army men

I had as a kid,

the comic books

with covers coming off,

the Hot Wheels

and Matchbox Cars

with their peeling paint

and can't help

but think of you

as just another memory

in the junk drawer

of my life. - Jeff Barnes

Haikunicorn

 My horn is magic
but let me make one thing clear:
I DON'T shit rainbows! - Jeff Barnes

Don't Buy an Urn

Don't bury me
when I die.
Have me cremated
but don't buy an urn.
Put my ashes
inside one of those safes
that looks like a book.
You can get them cheap.
Seal it up
and put it on a shelf
among my favorite books.
Print a label for the spine
with my name and
the title Complete Works,
and when visitors
peruse our library
you can point it out
and tell them
that this volume
was the culmination
of my life and
I put everything I had
into it. - Jeff Barnes

Hawk

Our old friend
the neighborhood hawk
rides the breeze
over the
house next door. Exuberant
April afternoon. - Jeff Barnes

Jimmy

Jimmy was bitter  man,
highly disillusioned with society.
He hated his job and hated his life,
but he mostly hated sobriety.

He often thought of suicide
but he lacked the fortitude,
so he settled for a drink and a smoke
and a quiet place to brood.

He could only face the world
through a haze of alcohol.

He had a wife and children

but he made strangers of them all.

One might say that over time

he really did kill himself.

The box of his ashes remains unclaimed

on a mortuary shelf. - Jeff Barnes

Life in the Kingdom of Gizmania

Gizmo fancies himself a king
and my wife and I his slaves.
He hides the moment company comes
but at other times he's brave.

When the alarm goes off he dashes in,

yowling and demanding to be fed.

"Bestir yourselves! I want breakfast now

so that I can go back to bed!"

He tries to bully the other cats,

but they just think he's a jerk.

He threatens to crack the whip on us

if we don't hurry off to work.

When we come home every night

he says, "Slaves, you're in big trouble!

I should have had dinner an hour ago!

Make haste! Feed me, on the double!" - Jeff Barnes

Haiku

In this vacant room
dust motes hover in the light.
Silence is too loud. - Jeff Barnes

Premonition

I remember a night

when the moon made me

forget about the sun

and cast the world around me

in variegated tones of blue

and, hearing the music of crickets,

I put down my guitar

as I imagined myself

dancing with you in a field,

your body more perfect

than a galaxy

as you twirled on the grass.

I think I conjured you 

for I sensed you were there

and knew you existed

though I would not meet you

or know your name

for more than thirty years

from that night. - Jeff Barnes