Tomorrow is too late

Stan Sullivan was a friend of mine. We were stationed in the UK together during the Gulf War. After he retired from the Air Force in 1992 and I moved back to Texas, we eventually lost touch with each other. For the past couple of years I've been looking for Stan, wanting to re-connect, to get back together, share a few puns (he loved coming up with new ones), but he hated computers and technology, which made him hard to find.

Until it was too late.

I found out today that Stanton A. Sullivan died in 2007. I don't know how it happened -- car accident, health issues -- but he was only 54, and I was 10 years too late to renew a friendship that once meant a lot to me.

If you have an old friend you haven't spoken to in years, today would be a great time to get back in touch. Maybe you can call them, write, or meet each other at Whataburger and enjoy a bit of catch up with your fries.


All I want for Christmas is a tumbleweed

I wrote this little verse several years ago with the hope of convincing my wife we needed a tumbleweed for a Christmas Tree.
I'm still hoping.

O Tumbleweed, O Tumbleweed,
your dried-up twigs are okie-doke.
O Tumbleweed, O Tumbleweed,
your dried-up twigs are okie-doke.

We rolled you in without a doubt,
When Christmas's done, 
we'll roll you out.

O Tumbleweed, O Tumbleweed,
your dried-up twigs are okie-doke.

If you can't smile, fake it

I'm sure historians will look back at our time and ask,
"What they hell were they thinking?
Were they all fast asleep, or stoned out on crack,
or maybe passed out from their drinking

five shots and three beers every night wouldn't do it,
they'd have to drink gallons and gallons.
Or maybe a plague of good old fashion stupid
made all of them just throw the towel in."

Not all of us, sir, of that you can take
to the bank, if you get my expression.
For some of us fought back with knuckles and words,
and how dare you even bring up the question

of our integrity, our honor, our love for our brothers,
our knowing what's good from what's evil.
But I will admit it looks bad on the face of it;
barkeep, set us up with more refills

while I bury my face in my hands at the thought
of our progeny questioning our marbles.
"Did they have some? Who cares, they're all dead. How 'bout pizza?"
And the world moves on. It's a marvel.




 

New haiku

Harvest moon
The moon is lovely
super or just old Clark Kent
wearing suit and tie.

*   *   *

Another Sunday
morning run to sponge away
Saturday's buffet.

*   *   *

I spend my daylight
not saving time but using
the hell out of it.

*   *   *

Only an hour?
I say we set back our clocks
to Obama time.

*   *   *

Out Harvest-mooning
like a little child, giddy
to see miracles.



Haiku Sampler

Venus, Morning Star,
pulling old sun out of bed
to begin the day.

*   *   *

Step One: Dig a trench.
Step Two: Bury your burdens.
Step Three: Carry on.

*   *   *

Taking the "right path"
cheats you out of the joy of
being lost then found.

*   *   *

I think, therefore I
fret on things I can not change.
Hard work clears my mind.

Friday Haiku just for you

I'm a round Earther
not some billionaire birther
who talks big but ain't.

*   *   *

Friday coffee cup
ready for a second round
technical top off.

*   *   *

I used to have goats.
There are some days I miss them,
but most days I don'ts.

*   *   *

Good morning, glory
is in the beholder's eye,
and I'm beholding.

Morning Glories

Hurricane Harvey and Mustang Island

I've only been to Mustang Island State Park once.

It's an 18-mile long barrier island down on the Texas Gulf Coast.

Padre Island is to the south. Port Aransas is just to the north. Well, what's left of it.

I remember riding into the park, parking my bike, and the ranger warning me that mosquitoes were bad that year. And she was more than right.

I camped behind the dunes, and those little buggers pert near drained me dry. A family next to me was having a good time, cooking food, playing; the husband running around without his shirt. They obviously had stronger Off than I had on.

Around midnight, I strolled out onto the beach. The moon was full, and a slight breeze was coming in from the Gulf. I found a place to put down my sleeping bag and slept the night away.

Mustang Island is now closed due to damage from Hurricane Harvey.

There's no telling when it'll open again.

Someday, I hope to go back.

Mustang Island

My Haiku just for you

Wednesday Mockingbird
mock, mocking the barnyard cat
out stalking its lunch.

*  *  *

Virginia is for
lovers running hand in hand
to beat the Devil.

*  *  *

It's gonna be a
grey rainy slip drip spitting
wetful kind of day.

*  *  *

We were all searching
for the American dream,
but then we woke up.

Erie Canal 200th Anniversary

In 2015, I rode my motorcycle along the Erie Canal thinking of low bridges, barges and a good old mule named Sal.

Men put shovel to dirt 200 years ago today to begin the Canal.

Happy 200th!


Erie Canal Lock No. 14

My Haiku mix tape

The yard needs mowing
I keep saying to myself,
but I don't listen.

*  *  *

This severe weather
is right up our Tornado
Alley, so to speak.

*  *  *

Beans, rice and cornbread.
If they aren't served in heaven,
then I ain't going.

*  *  *

Venus, Morning Star,
and me, a two-bit actor,
watching the world turn.

Where's all the snow?

I was just thinking back on Winter 2015, when I rode my bike to work and ended up snowbound for awhile.

Ah, now that was a PROPER winter!


2.25.15 Unintentionally Hard Core

Poetry bits and bobs

It's nice to sleep in and pull up the covers,
whether you're single or long-time lovers.

*  *  *

Dallas calls,
like New York,
but with an accent I'm more accustomed to.

*  *  *

The cat
     comes
            in
              with the
                     fog...
creeps quietly
         through
                the
                     room...

and barfs all over the floor.

*  *  *

One of these days,
Monday won't come 'round here no more,
but for now,
we're sitting at the table,
drinking coffee,
making plans.

*  *  *

THE END

My 2016 Haiku

Starting with the first haiku I wrote this year, and ending with the last one. Happy New Haiku Year!

I saw the Blackstar
dance in the sky through your eyes,
changing everything.

*  *  *

If roses were brown
and sugar was peppery,
love would still prevail.

*  *  *

No shenanigans
today or tomfoolery,
if you please. Thank you.

*  *  *

Sunday birds singing
David Bowie’s greatest hits,
or so I presume.

*  *  *

Twitter poetry
is a cheeseburger with fries
and a diet Coke.

*  *  *

Grandma’s patchwork quilt
of old days long remembered
one stitch out of time.

*  *  *

That damn cat wants out
and in again on demand,
like I’m her hired hand.

*  *  *

Cats will not be trained.
They make cat whisperers cry
for even trying.

*  *  *

There’s a good reason
it's called Tornado Alley
and not Sprinkle Lane.

*  *  *

In out in out in
out again. What? Now back in?
The fickle feline.

*  *  *

Sunday afternoon
Michelle, ma belle, on vinyl
kinda lazy day.

*  *  *

Long day ‘bout over
‘cept for the owl on sentry
asking hard questions.

*  *  *

You can smell the rain.
At least that’s what they tell me.
My nose is stopped up.

*  *  *

Monday ain’t no worse
than a ne’e-do-well Thursday.
It just seems like it.

*  *  *

A warm summer rain
taps on my roof like Sammy
doing Bojangles.

*  *  *

That old chesnut, love,
should be shared with everyone,
not just our neighbors.

*  *  *

Dig the blue mohawk
coloring the River Walk
in old San Antone.

*  *  *

Monday walk about
the yard thinking to mow but
not now, tomorrow.

*  *  *

She stood there for us,
resolute in her beliefs
and kicked their asses.

*  *  *

It’s been a good day
and it’s not even lunchtime.
Hard work is the key.

*  *  *

Sunday is a day
of restaurant deciding;
Thai or fried chicken?

*  *  *

I don’t think my verse
can save me like I’m hopin’.
But no use mopin’.

*  *  *

Good morning Monday.
Since we’re going the same way,
can I hitch a ride?

*  *  *

Sunday afternoon
guilt of way too much reading,
not enough yard work.

*  *  *

I have a poem
tree blooming from my top shelf.
It reveals the world.

*  *  *

He was a good cat
that didn’t give a rat’s ass
a chance to relax.

*  *  *

Can’t miss the sunrise,
the sweetest part of the day.
Gus and his biscuits.

*  *  *

Outside, an old owl.
I have no answers for him,
but he keeps asking.

*  *  *

It don’t come easy:
the good stuff, rewards, self-worth.
Only through hard work.

*  *  *

That shower was nice
but the ground sucked it up dry
as a martini.

*  *  *

Sunday-morning news:
Walmart Sells Deep Fried Twinkies.
Unhealthy? So what?

*  *  *

Tuesday, what a lark;
rise, shine, work, love, show kindness,
forge a better world.

*  *  *

Headline News: A smile;
Next up in sports: Simone Biles;
Weather: Sunny, mild.

*  *  *

The Queen of England
is made of cosmic star stuff
just like you and me.

*  *  *

The place seems empty
now that she’s no longer here
to say good morning.

*  *  *

Coffee, porch, sunlit
trees, cool breeze and mockingbird
impersonations.

*  *  *

Stick with haiku, son.
That simple 5-7-5
suits your intellect.

*  *  *

Last summer rainstorm,
oh how I love the way you
keep me from mowing.

*  *  *

Autumn always sneaks
in through Summer’s back screen door
just to sit a spell.

*  *  *

Gracious how the week
progresses to Saturday
and gives me a lift.

*  *  *

A frog in the pond /croaked, croaked, croaked, croaked, croaked all night long / just because, I guess.

*  *  *

San Antonio
Saturday street ArtPace-ing
haiku in the wild.

*  *  *

Back home on the cool
porch breezes and hot coffee
cup between my hands.

*  *  *

Lazy-day cookin’
red beans and cornbread lookin’
like my kind of grub.

*  *  *

It’s anybody’s
guess who’s coming to dinner,
but we always share.

*  *  *

Another debate?
Weren’t the first two more than clear?
Never Trump! Never!

*  *  *

Watching meteors
shower over my homestead.
Streak, flash, and then gone.

*  *  *

Cool Texas morning.
Hot Columbian coffee.
All is well, for now.

*  *  *

In case you missed it,
I used ICYMI
in a tweet today.

*  *  *

Wednesday haiku night.
Smoke-filled room, beer, pen, paper.
Just me and the boys.

*  *  *

Circus still in town.
Scary clown won’t go away.
Damn the elephants.

*  *  *

An extra hour?
I’ll use mine out on the porch,
just being quiet.

*  *  *

Just another day
to plot how we’ll change the world
for the good of all.

*  *  *

Out of many, one
nation of all the people
we must overcome.

*  *  *

The old clock is tick
tocking, mocking all this time
we think is owed us.

*  *  *

Saturday night life
around the kitchen table:
talk, laugh, friends, food, love.

*  *  *

Today’s grand exploit?
I went out to get the mail.
It was only junk.

*  *  *

I don’t mind the rain
as long as it knows its place:
Out. Not leaking in.

*  *  *

I'd rather be home,
but the trail don't go that way.
Someday, yes. Someday.

*  *  * 

THE END