Crutches, A Haiku

Like a hummingbird
Moves so little, so much work,
Except I am slow.

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Love Is A Many Aroma-ed Thing

Most people are reminded of
Their loved ones by flowers,
Wanting to sit in a field,
Sniff and  ruminate for hours.
The scent of roses, daisies,
Fragrant petals and such,
Mimic their love for another,
But for me – this is too much.
When I walk by a swamp,
A dump, can, or a bog,
Or smell air filled with
Acid rain, smoke, or fog,
Or when I walk by a tooter,
Or a dog squatting on grass,
Or if Cupid is kind,
By a cow farm I pass:

That’s when I think of you.

Most people upon hearing,
Melodious music and sounds,
Daydream of wonderful times
Spent in their lovers bounds.
The sweet sounds simmer
In a soft spot in their heart,
And remind them they mustn’t
Spend a second apart.
I must admit, sometimes
I slide into this state of mind,
But for the most part I
Consider myself not of this kind.
When I hear music that
Makes my bones rattle,
My muscles tighten & flex
Jams that are a battle
Between thirty-two instruments,
With words that usually
Make little sense.

That’s when I think of you.

Farmer John

Her milk poured out of a metal spout,
Flowing the same way soda comes out.
With no mooing sound or swishing tail,
Machines hath replaced the metal pail.

In cities and towns, food is ample,
With different colors and tastes of milk to sample.
It’s easy to forget where it all comes from
And where the cartons go when the day is done.

So let me tell you of this one dear farm,
And its loving farmer with timeless charm.
Most farms these days stuff cows in stalls,
Confined indoors by windowless walls.

But not this farmer, no siree,
He lets his cows roam outside, free.
He gives each cow a name, an identity,
Designed his farm to keep the cows happy.

Despite the number, he names all his sows.
John Jansen the farmer, loves his cows.

I Pout, You Perch

Why so glum? Asks my gaggle of friends,
Impressed by my mouth’s South-reaching ends.
I’m a friend of the fowl, I reply with no break.
The foul? They assume a spelling mistake. 
No, the roosters, I answer as if it’s clear.
They swivel to check if feathers are near.
My mom used to say that when I would pout,
Cross my arms, stick my bottom lip out
A rooster would come and roost on my lip,
Years later, no rooster has yet made the trip.

Daucus Carota

They said I could not have a pet ferret,
I understood why because they are quite smelly.
I went to the fridge and pulled out a carrot
As a substitute pet, and not for my belly.

We had a whole bushel, thought we could spare it.
When I held out the leash, Carrot said don’t you dare,
I told him if he wanted to go out he must wear it.
I put on the leash, and we went down the stair.

As we stood in the yard, I thought of my last pet,
A rabbit who escaped from the house to the grass.
I wondered if they’d have been friends if they met,
Although Carrot seemed cold and quite crass.

I looked down at Carrot, but Carrot was gone,
Inspected the leash, found nothing funny.
Searched for Carrot from dusk til dawn,
I at least hope that Carrot found bunny!

Fall Tricks

The biggest trick that it could play,
As I stepped out, this autumn day,
The answer they announced was “clear,”
Accompanied with grin and cheer.
I wondered then how was I duped?
I shivered, shook, then, walked stooped.
I guess that “clear” was sort of true,
But there were other factors too.
Just like you, my skin turned blue.
Clear sky, your clarity is not a clue.

Woodbox Fox

If you want to be sly,
They say mimic a fox.
When sly’s what I try,
I just hide in a box.
Our house has a cupboard
That holds all our wood,
But mostly I used it
For hide-n-seek good.
No one would find me,
For days if I tried.
The hounds ran amuck,
While I stayed inside.
I guess that the box
Resembles a den.
So I guess I was acting
Just like a fox then.
The box is still there,
Filled with cobwebs and dust,
Far from the box now
Creep like a fox, I must.