Gifts

Gifts Red maple swings in the yard and azaleas bow, the finch sings to the music as grasses rustle. Sun beats the drum on the skin, the clouds move in a wave, ocean rolls in. A gull rides the waves as we sit on a log, smashed into shore, high tide. A fogbow appears, droplets in sun, yellow-white, a 360-degree arc. We wept at the gifts of the sky. © right now, Denise A White

[Halloween Haikus]

Heads served, a platter The headless horseman did cry Inside, escape fate Pumpkins and brooms fly On the night of goblins, ghosts On a pitch-black road Lose your way tonight The headless horseman does cry And Alice’s hole find Found a lovely witch The headless horseman did cry Head toward spooky ride A fair witch I seek Through goblins, ghosts, and horsemen Ride a broom northeast Copyright Denise A White

Bad Hat Daze

When you wear a hat you always have a bad hat daze.  It gives me heatburn
gas and occsional regurgitation.  One should never wear a hat to a baseball game,
no matter how loyal you are to the team, inevitablely you will always have to take
it off.  Lets' get specific; Timberwolves-hats smell up your hair as well as making
it look flat, the Wild well, need I say more.  The Vikings may make you grow
horns, how bad is that while the Packers turn it iinto cheese, and the LYNX  make
it curl.  Help MN if you can.  Maybe their hats are the only bae hat daze?

Mushroom (Haiku)

musroom ladden tree
your steps small, large, white, well-formed
fall is around bend

Copyright d.a.white

Understanding

Into your eyes I look,
pain shows
anger dashed upon you.

I must learn how to control
words coming forth from
deep within my -
psych to step into
your shoes.

I hope to never see those
painful eyes that have
an understanding of mine.

copyright d.a.white

                                                                            copyright photo by d.a.white

Flirt With Fire

Remember The Dream

If she would sleep deep,
If dreaming would take her,
If the fire would not flirt with her mind,
Then the story would not be left untold.

Copyright d.a.white

The Craves: Dead of Night

Writing, my passion,
Yearning aficionado,
Spring forth with desire.

copyright d.a.white