Henry Teel's Punt In A Nutshell

At rest on a sand dune safely 

Above the tide, its prow pointing 

Towards some lanky gesturing 

Grasses slowly moving in 

To encircle it, this weathered 

 

Light blue-grey punt going 

To pieces was once pulled 

Here by a man who soon went 

To the mainland and died there,

But still remains--an apostrophe. 

 

 

 

 

Haiku: Writ

 

How shallow the state 

Of minds that cannot fathom 

 

Pale sheets of grey slate.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Barbed And Wired

Bard, 

There are many things 

One can do that 

Go above and beyond what 

Some of us rather naive 

Romantics like to call 

A poet’s sense of duty— 

 

Straddled high 

And mighty 

On a fence 

Armed with barbs and not 

Knowing who 

To aim for is not 

One of them. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Looks Like Kilroy's Still Here

 

You, over there— 

 

In the space allotted 

It, no matter how

 

Large or small, 

If your life fits,

 

Write it. 

 

 

 

Here's How It Usually Goes, Dearies

Achromatic— 

Nothing at all 

 

Dramatic about it 

Like the usual titillating 

 

Red-hot fare, you simply 

Plant yourself 

 

Down before one 

Obscene white page 

 

After another and scribble 

Most of the day making it 

 

Grey.