This narrow greenway
Shackled between Macadam
An imprisoned oasis
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Author: agarrabrant
Haiku 18 Sep 2017
Every autumn hue
Enscribed here on this one leaf
Yet we still crave more
A Benediction
May receding floods
Carry away this wreckage
Of dividing walls
So we may, at last, rebuild
A home without division
Truth From Ann
When it rains for days
And a city floats away,
How can you just blame “those gays”?
~
Well, I have no brain.
I revel in other’s pain.
Flushed my morals down the drain.
Fathers and Sons
Under watchful eyes they stand,
Poised upon a precipice,
Regarding the plunge ahead.
Quietly, they watch,
Sitting on, perhaps, a bench,
Nostalgic, proud, and yet, afraid.
Not too long ago, they stood,
Upon the lips of similar brinks,
Regarded then, as now,
By men in quiet contemplation.
Cause Célèbre
Let us not confuse
A lost cause with a just one.
That won’t bring us peace.
Fractured Gems
Pedestals again
Thrust themselves to the forefront.
Must one be flawless
To warrant veneration,
Or is human good enough?
~
When humanity
Struggles to be their best selves
Despite many flaws,
This is the heroism
That warrants veneration.
~
If our heroes must
Be alabaster figures,
They will not be found
Lest we manufacture them
And plaster them with whitewash.
Neither Pedestal Nor Pit
How themes repeat.
He’s not what he seems.
People seldom appear just
As they really are.
The worst are often much more
And the best, often much less.
It’s best to reserve
Both worship and scorn until
Long acquaintance shines
Revelation’s light into
Their every crack and crevice.
The Sound Of Silence
An endless barrage
Of vitriolic hatred,
Social discourse has become!
My silence is not consent!
Modest Measures
When the measure of
Temperance becomes just not
Hurling others from roof tops,
Have we lost all compassion?
Surrounded By Humor Since Birth
Today, friends, is my son Ian’s 18th Birthday. I could not be prouder of the young man he has become. Smart, talented, and funny. I posted a humorous photo reenacting a picture of me holding him when he was a newborn today and an old friend reminded me of the gag I pulled on our family and friends waiting in the delivery room. I guess you could say, he as been surrounded by humor since birth.
Ian was overdue. We checked into the hospital very early in the morning to begin labor induction. Things did not progress swiftly. After 16 hours, Ellen was only dialated 4 centimeters. The doctor advised that it would likely be several more hours and gave Ellen an epidural. I went out to tell the waiting throng and asked my best friend, Lee, to go out to the house and feed the dogs.
When I went back to the labor and delivery room, things were radically different! Ellen was crowning and within a half hour, Ian had been born! After they had cleaned him up and said it was ok to have family come back, the doctor and I were talking about how you can never predict these things. That is when the diabolical plan formed.
I went back out to the waiting room and told our friends and family that things had really slowed down and the doctor thought it would be fine for everybody to come back and offer some encouragement and emotional support. I led the throng back into the L&D suite. The expressions on everybody’s faces were priceless! There was much confusion. Some people even thought the hospital had come up with some cutting edge program where they gave pregnant women other newborns to hold in order to stimulate delivery! Once reality dawned, there was much love and laughter. It seemed the perfect way to celebrate the end of 18 long hours of labor and the birth of our son.
Thank you all for being there with us and especial thanks to Lee, who missed it all because he was taking care of our dogs!
Haiku High Summer
Dragonflies soaring
On thermals above asphalt
Far from any pond
No Encore Please
Singing naught of hope,
Neither love nor compassion;
He croons to our baser selves
Ballads of terror,
Hatred and fear and mistrust.
Pray these become his swansong?
Sharp Eternal Inhale
Twenty nine years!
An eternity to a child;
Not even a breathe to the world.
And yet, to me,
An endless drawing of fleeting breathe
That is my marriage to my love.
