Haiku on haiku
Haiku isn’t hard.
Three lines. Think in syllables.
Just five, seven, five.
No rhyme or meter.
The second line is hardest.
The rest is easy.
Rats. That’s much too long.
It’s all in the choice of
words.
What word can I use?
Concise, clear meaning.
Pare it down to the basics.
Just five, seven, five.
I'm trying valiantly to come up with decent blog posts, something a little more interesting and substantive than "here's what I did today from my to-do list." Although sometimes I'm tempted--and I think I even did that once--just to show people what being an innkeeper is like. Sometimes the variety and number of tasks is astounding.
What I finally did is check out a couple of "idea" blogs--what to write about when there isn't anything incredibly amazing going on in my life. That and steal ideas from others.
Today's post idea is "Friday Haiku," stolen (complete with image) from LouCeel. Please give his blog a visit. His Friday Haiku is quite deep and compassionate.
Mine, on the other hand, is simply the reflection of the realization I had around 11:30 last night that we're beginning to accumulate the look and items of people as they get older. I am nothing if not a smart aleck (so I've been told.) It's short. And if you don't like poetry, get over it.
Signs of aging
Glasses on. Then off.
Pushed down to the nose's end.
Bad sight either way.
His pills and my pills.
Taking up ever more space.
Less beauty--more meds.
Kleenex on nightstands.
Allergies and asthma make
red honking noses.
Manual labor
leaves me stiff and sore for days.
I'm too old for this.
Please answer the phone.
Not the phone--ears ringing. Oops.
I did it again.
