Autumn Haiku

Falling Leaves
Windy hands
Breathe a chilling calm:
Autumn rain

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Idiomatic Confusions

Nathaniel Bataniel, what’s your deal?
Did someone walk over your grave?
Are you feeling blue, down in the dumps,
Or did you simply have a close shave?

No, I haven’t been playing poker.
I’m not dead, so I have no grave.
I’m not blue, or visiting garbage,
And, my beard shows that I have not shaved.


Nathaniel Bataniel, don’t be sore.
Don’t give me the cold shoulder now.
I just wondered what was up with you;
I thought you would not have a cow.

I feel only confusion, not pain.
I’m wearing a sweater right now.
You can see both my feet on the ground,
And no human can birth a cow.


Nathaniel Bataniel, lighten up.
This is driving me up the wall.
No one’s so literally down to Earth;
I see that with no crystal ball.

I can’t lessen weight or complexion.
Cars don’t usually drive on walls.
Of course I’m right here on this planet!
And why would you need crystal balls?


I can’t talk about winning a fight,
Or men making and breaking molds.
I can see clearly that I should leave;
That silence is worth more than gold.

There goes Nathaniel, who can’t be beat.
When they made him, they broke the mold.
Despite claims that it’s all clear as mud,
He knew speech has a cost of gold.

Meop Rorrim

noisserpxe yoc sti ,ecaf ruoy ees I
.nwo ym ot sdrawkcab yltcaxE
;keehc a nrut uoy ,worb a esiar uoY
.ecnad gnimim ym ni wollof I

I see your face, its coy expression
Exactly backwards to my own.
You raise a brow, you turn a cheek;
I follow in my miming dance.

gnivruc depahssim rieht ,srae ruoy ees I
yrtemmys neve gnitpmettA
gnilggig ;gnivom ,gnilggiw ecitcarp uoY
.dnuos a tuohtiw gnola hgual I

I see your ears, their misshaped curving
Attempting even symmetry.
You practice wiggling, moving; giggling.
I laugh along without a sound.

ni sdia ti kniht uoy ;lwocs uoy ees I
.neddih eb tonnac tahw gnidiH
,uoy ees em ees seye gniborp ruoy hguohT
.lla ruoy stcelfer weiv eye-ssalg yM

I see you scowl; you think it aids in
Hiding what cannot be hidden.
Though your probing eyes see me see you,
My glass-eye view reflects your all.

The Call of the Storm

I box myself in two stories and hide from feeling.
I breathe conditioning and live controlled.

But the pressure is dropping.

Nature is calling loudly, penetrating insulation and beams and siding.
The roar beckons me out to stand in her tears.

It pulls my animal soul to its embrace
Till her frightening arms buffet my body.

Her crying strokes each nerve from dormancy
And I awake, alive inside.

A Day in the Life

Some days my nails keep breaking,
As I lose hair strand by strand;
And the vitamins I’m taking
Can’t be opened just by hand.

Sometimes I sweep and mop the tile,
Get dinner on the table,
Then ruefully watch ev’ry child
Drop as much as he is able.

Somehow the same pants surface
Ev’ry time I sort the clothes.
They’ve yet to be in service,
But round and round they goes.

Somewhere beyond the drywall
There’s life; there’s something more:
There are shining floors and people.
I run away! -to the grocery store.

The Saddest Song

The saddest song does not sing truth.
The wittiest writing is not the wisest.
The loudest voice is not correct.
The strongest shove does not show strength.
Yet
We cry, and pay the weeping beggar.
We laugh, and share the snarky satire.
We turn and listen to the yelling.
We vote for the bully to be in charge.