Haiku 2014

Well, it looks like 2014 was a year of haiku for me. Seems I wrote a few of them. But not your "modern-day, wait for a haiku moment" kindof haikus.

My haiku were more the traditional, 5-7-5, down-home, boots in dirt, hard-working, get up and do your chores, have a big breakfast, don't step on the cats, sometimes political, yes I'm a democrat, go to work, come home, fix dinner, watch Doctor Who, read a book then go to bed kindof haiku.

Starting with the early ones I wrote in 2014 to the present, here's the ones I liked the best:


Thick morning fog sits
like fearless desperadoes
waiting for a train.

*  *  *

What a wild finish.
Dallas, Aily, Jeff scratches.
The Iditarod

*  *  *

These tomato plants
better survive 'til summer
cookouts call their name.

*  *  *

Early-morning fog.
I-20 to Abilene
playing hide and seek.

*  *  *

This April sunshine
warms up my neck real nice like
April sunshine should.

*  *  *

Fancy boots don't scoot
through Texas dirt like old ones
baptized in hard work.

*  *  *

I've been to LA
once was one time too many.
Texas suits me fine.

*  *  *

I sweat wind and dust.
The Brazos flows through my veins.
My soul sings Texas.

*  *  *

Those damn mosquitoes
always cruising the main drag
looking for free drinks.

*  *  *

I ain't no greenhorn
waitin' for daylight to break.
There's work to be done.

*  *  *

That first cup of Joe
tastes like Columbian sex.
Smooth, dark and steamy.

*  *  *

It's been a whole year.
I still see her standing on
a hot summer night.

*  *  *

A pen in one hand,
a ballot in the other,
my voice loud and clear.

*  *  *

Autumn's steady rain
Fall seeps into everything;
Winter boots stand by.

*  *  *

Last day November
kicks up windy ruckus 
of leaves, and is done.

*  *  *

Cattle in the mist
restless shapes and dark shadows
appear, dissappear.

*  *  *

Rainy-day Thursday
like Dorothy on aged vinyl,
Misty Blue in D.

*  *  *

Three cats on a couch
staring at the Christmas tree
making their cat plans.

*  *  *

Fam'ly buried in
wrapping paper avalanche
not found, at present.

*  *  *

December twilight
breeze whispers to clinging leaves,
"Let go. I'll catch you."

*  *  *

Cold night for frost breath
like steam locomotives at
snow-covered stations.

*  *  *

Got resolutions?
I prefer mine short and sweet:
Talk less, listen more.

*  *  *

Well, that was at least most of them,
and certainly more than enough to put here.
So, here's wishing to you a happy and wonderful,
Happy New Year.

(Gosh, that was lame!)