Each time I go to the writer's meeting I learn more about the way I should be writing. I Hope that someday to have something that I write published. I don't want to nor do I want to be famous, I'll let that to those who seek fame. I want too put down in words things for my family when I pass on. I can remember some of the things that my mom and dad have told me and that may be my next project, to write down as many and as much of the stories as I can remember before they are lost. The good, the bad, and the funny things that shaped their lives.
I started to clean the basement yesterday. Winter's dirt and clutter needs removed. I am getting more lazy than usual and needed to get my blood circulating. In the winter, I really turn into a couch potato. (Move over Mr. Potato Head, Tater Tom is here.)
I am not much for the cold, blustery days of winter or the hot humid days of summer. I do like the spring and the fall.
I have been trying to polish my skills with Haiku poetry. The lines do not rhyme, but I like to keep things more concise. I try to compact my writings into as small of a package as possible and still try to express a picture of what I want to say. That is what Haiku is.


The darkness becomes
swooping hawk across the plain
with outstretched wings.

White birch spreads her limbs
bared to the moonlight's soft touch
and tender caress.

Nose tastes campfire's smoke
eyes drink stars ears chew silence
and skin savors breeze.

Mountain minarets
dominate the distant sky
a wolf mullah calls.

Feathered cock pheasant
dressed in luminescent frock
and white priest's collar.

Thundering feathers
explode from its hidden nest
a ruffed grouse takes wing.

Shaggy haired mustang
shakes snow from its winter coat
with white explosion.