My life is suddenly great
and I am magically happy.
I can run a mile,
lose my breathe
and still smile.
I realize suddenly
that no one is watching me
or I stopped caring
who might
have glanced my way
in passing.
Just as suddenly
I am "chasing cars"
slightly faster than me
to infinity.
I'm hopping over
the cracks
of a downhill sidewalk,
and occasional liter.
The birds are just singing
for me.
For a slant of time
there is meaning
and equality.
The sun is settling over
white-blossoming pear trees
this evening.
I just hope a spoonful
of hope sprinkles down from
heaven tonight.
Tomorrow might be better
than today.
Maybe, when least expected,
it will be even better everyday.
Title this poem: Hopping
the Cracks for the band
Snow Patrol,
or Hopping the Cracks
like I'm Five Again.
Background B.B King it
You'll get home alone
A Quartering as Jazz
As quart and liter
As meter and mile
Footage and reconcile
Irish Quartermasters Gaurd
Kevin J. O'Meadhra
Trace as feather
Low of ash
Bury of quill
Fide et amore
Nightingales Ergo
Send in rot
Further, borrow
Scottish wreathing
Entangled Britain
Relent
They of leave
Twined as lecture
Recital of yellow
Beckon brown
Revile of green
Tustled hearth
Baby babysit looks like
It's gonna hail
Jump and jive
As sent to the SAG
In tawdry spent
The war is lent
The establishment of thy own
A hate filled thrown
As crimes as thine
Tinkle and toast
In a entire
Only as pure
The picture as haunt
Plagiarism
Stores front
Sufferer as complaint
In stilled poverty
I law
Joan had little art
Lythed command
Hinde weeps rather as waltz
Herculean task
Wardrobe mantle black
Opening Suggestion of Betrothed
when my poems mumble
find words around will fumble
stupid and on would stumble
are things cat enjoys
likes playing with kitty toys
and girls with boys
while idiots will bloom
for us God made room in tomb
so sins He can consume
when with love liter
God became my baby sitter
sinner am quitter
when we found some mace
cat would make a funny face
running set the pace
when my eyes were teary
outside it had been dreary
of we would be leery
when we came to terms
you could see so many worms
consuming all the germs
when being prevalent
they would be ambivalent
all the rules have bent
when we entertain
rather than being insane
we will need a brain
when we saw menu
reading we must continue
seeing sharp sinew
when with much anguish
you will find what you do wish
in liter languish
head had hit the roof
up Trump always sure to goof
need burden of proof
Trump would play a game
why me would anyone blame
disturbed by a dame
The first time I ever made you coffee I
handed it to you, black and just a little burnt.
with apology on my tongue, I said ‘sorry, there’s no cream.’
You, with your long black hair and snow
driven smile replied, with reassurance on your lips,
‘it’s perfect, I prefer it black’
It’s been 6 months, sweet love, and I watched you
making coffee with your short black hair
and the sun shone bright against the cold,
snow driven cream as it slipped into your mug.
And in this moment I am struck by
love’s elasticity. I held your love in a
2 liter carafe, the black coffee steaming.
Yet in an instant you seamlessly hug
the corners of the square cardboard carton
of half and half and I tuck it away in the fridge
door for safe keeping.
Little is less than a lot
And most is not a few
I need a handle on this
So I know what to do
When measuring more
Into my favorite recipe
For a palmful is okay
Measuring for me …
Then come the metrics
Confusing me more
I cannot read labels
In the grocery store
I know about ounces
Milligrams are strange
And what is a liter
I cannot exchange
Guess I’ll stop cooking
Lest I overdo the salt
Eating at a restaurant
Then, it’s their fault.
Written September 29, 2022
Crosscheck with An Honest Magazine
Price of liter of kerosene:
What it costs to upload ten poems,
I hate: Thief!” leading to requiems,
Poet to freely leave Cybercafé,
And at home drink Calming Nescafe…
So, I’ve started using firewood,
Where piles of Good Ones stand have I stood:
On this day the Twenty-First-August
No shame asking Ant to be My Guest…
But-Gosh!-Cruel Smoke for Unprepared Lungs
Please, pray, I don’t start speaking in tongues!
The guy was parked at his mailbox
in a red hot rod of a Camero kind of a car
Joe began steering around him
The Camero almost hit us
HEY! I Yelled.
The Camero stopped.
Driver changed the direction and hot rodded down the road.
I did not think we would ever see him again.
We ended up at the Dollar store where Camero was parked.
Young guy at register buying a liter of Coke could not look at me.
This is kind of like living in a small town, I thought.
The ache in my back
puts me on track
for a double dose
of rum and cognac
The pain in my feet
I'd like to delete
Pour me a double martini
stick of cherry zucchini
The throb in my head
makes me feel half-dead
I know this sounds risky
a liter, 90-proof whiskey
Thus fortified
no need for bromides
We're flying to Prague
make mine an eggnog
I
A few days ago, I misplaced cooking oil
Not as in "spills." LORD, may we avoid oil-spills
Just the Liter ended up in a spare bedroom
Don't ask how! Mind seems good, as God Wills
II
I was so happy, encouraged, relieved,
Washed the bottle, sprinkled hands over plant
(In a pot). Felt it was wrong, so I believed:
So I kissed each frond with, "I love thee Friend"
on brink did titter
last in line of long liter
became a quitter
poetry contest
with which one were we impressed
up they had been dressed
check on credential
of what was essential
warfare conventional
way was wide and broad
over many miles have trod
trying to find God
about Trump heard
he is totally absurd
as well as a nerd
to read did invite
you to read poems that I write
with all my heart and might
one more live will leave
day by day in God believe
soul soon did receive
we would always fear
he had been our darling dear
now no longer here
was a detection
idiotic insurrection
we need protection
instead of on trial
he has gone into exile
records would compile
(up money would pile)
(always would beguile)
(on small hands nails file)
(surely was his style)
The by-nature amiable Peter
Is now inconsolably bitter:
At a filling station, a protesting sitter
After his supplied mere one liter
For this vulgarly insulting pump attendant Rita
And threatening obscenities much fitter…
But smiling Rita didn’t away words fritter
Her sagacious silence proving the better hitter
And smoldering Peter more reasons are given to grow heady,
His long taut nerves refusing to steady:
For the ugliest fight seemingly ready,
His teeth plus his claws signaling the Deadly;
Whomever he ends up dismembering, deservedly
not using liter
about my cat I am bitter
should be a quitter
A feeling is born inside me-
A lot of feelings-
Clotted blood trampling feelings
volatile, formless yet formidable desires of Rainbow spreading in the wide horizon.
Clutching on to your heart
Your faint sounds of love
Its humming makes the longitude of my desolate still tower of the silent night.
Ever become a boatman on a huge river
I hoist sails over the living Nile
The vibrant white sails of the boat of mind
Moving vessel is basically a dreamy delicate lamp of lifespan running out of oil.
The awakened veins burn in the Latent heat of sleeping volcano
The specific heat spent for one liter of sleeping blood
To raise its temperature by only one degree
The hidden desires of my soul fall down like broken wings
In the melody of the music makes shedding tears.
Horn I Always Has Haiku Humor
When Trump stepped off curb,
Do not bother him or disturb,
As well as perturb.
Session by session,
Trump will make poor impression;
Does use deception,
At us stares and stares
While out you always wears,
When up or down stairs.
Trump is undressing.
Others will be impressing;
All his sins stressing.
Out sins poured and poured;
Trump had been told by our Lord,
History was restored.
Trump is a looter;
Ignorance needs a tutor.
Never straight shooter.
Trump does have an urge,
Be loser while being skirge,
As President must purge.
Trump is hard to bare;
A loser beyond compare;
Steels more than fair share.
Had looked at big board;
History had been restored;
Trump did bring on discord.
At us stares and stares;
For anyone Trump never cares';
Spent all of our fair shares.
Trump talks and rambles;
Not sure and always gambles;
Left us in shambles.
Trump last of liter;
Always has become bitter;
Needs baby sitter.
In sun, Trump does bask;
Refuses to wear his mask;
Even when we ask.
Trump does day by day,
Always leads our souls astray;
For sins he must pay.
Like last one the best.
Jim Horn
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