(2013)
Composed 04 March
Burned flesh in the nostrils, napalm nightmare haunting the brain, destroys the rhythm of life.
Dressed for her wedding, she hurried to her beloved’s side. Her finest silk was chosen and she became His bride.
Work defines the bee? Hives shoul… But entries belong on pages. Companies write mission memos. Souls pen living stages.
lowly paid pawns moved and sacrificed on the board– minimum wage slaves
dropplets, dropping down, sinking slowly in soil are Mother’s helpers.
Broken by the vampires who suck life from souls with minimums that keep tires spinning in muck.
here is where we chirp, written lines known as tweeting- compressed ideas— Bill D. Johnston (@bedeejay) ...
haiku are headlines reporting mother nature the insight stories
The End will come too soon. Watch the land. Watch the seas Watch the skies for signs, for it… The End.
The archer aims, hoping it is true. The arrow flies. Is the eye hit new?
She collected rainbows. She stored sunshine. She put moonlight away. She made stars into a crown. She drew picture clouds.
I huffed my ego, by pouring me into it– She popped my balloon.
gentle breeze on the beach– sudden rain
Snow melts. Waterfalls streaming rivulets off roofs slake the thirsty ground.
Pick up those cups. Embrace those days full of flavors. Savor every single drop. Drink up.
