Whatever your faith
Each child born’s a miracle
Sacred and human
Feed them and love them
Keep them safe and warm that they
May learn, grow, love too
Christ said what we do
To the poorest among us
We do to the Lord
See in each other
Redemption and salvation
Existence divine
I say that’s the Christ
I hope to keep in Christmas
This day, and all year
Office party time
As if you don’t see enough
Of your co-workers
The Mistletoe Zone
Heaven or hell depending
On who’s there with you
Guess X marks the mass
Of folks sucking down free booze,
Costco canapes
And punch, our favorite
If you’re asking what we’d like
To do to the boss
Gee, I didn’t know
She could dance like THAT, didn’t
Know anyone could
And I thought tables
Were for setting our drinks on
I’d say she showed me
At least I know how
To hold my liquor — upraised,
Pinkie extended
Thank God the DJ’s
Really horrendous, or else
We’d be here all night
Office party time
At least once a year our firm’s
A well-oiled machine
Amazon, Best Buy
Call it Cyber Monday but
Tuesday’s just as bad
Click away your dough
Wednesday’s worse, dot com shop curse
Thursday’s also sad
Digital dollars
Fly on Friday, Saturday
I go out to play
Nothing left to fill
The plate on Sunday, Lord have
Mercy Judgement Day
Starts Cyber Monday
But the digital drain draws
24/7
Starts Cyber Monday
Bills won’t be paid till I go
To cyber heaven
Black Friday: Don’t jump!
Your death wish fulfilled, no charge,
By fellow shoppers
Just try to get one
Of those huge flat-screen TV’s.
You’ll be flattened first
Women duke it out
Over cheap towels, the better
To wipe up the blood
Wielding pepper spray
And packing heat, we’re ready
To shop till they drop
Cash registers ring
And shots ring out: What do you
Expect at Target?
I know what I’ll get
To win next year’s shopping war.
Are tanks on sale soon?
Gather round, ask kids,
“What do we say first?” That’s right:
“Pass the cranberries!”
Turkey, dressing, spuds
Yams, beans, rolls — big bird won’t be
The only thing stuffed
Eat hearty, drink deep
Soon enough we’ll collapse in
Haze of tryptophan
Don’t forget dessert
Apple, cherry, pecan, mince
Pie with your Cool Whip
Circumference over
Diameter of squash-gourd
Equals pumpkin pi
If it’s my last meal
Skip the urn, keep my ashes
In a gravy boat
Couldn’t decide. Take your pick. I think I like the third one most.
Gift #1: Life
Gift #2: Sharing it
Gift #3: Thanks
Gift 1: To have life
Gift 2: People to share it
Gift 3: Gratitude
Gift 1: Our next breath
Gift 2: Our conspirators
Gift 3: Our true thanks
63°
Fall afternoon, sun angles
Lower in the sky
Two pleased-as-punch mutts
Pull their young owner along
Pony tail, ball cap
Cracked country asphalt
Rebar-staked against the sprawl
Grass browned for winter
Hydrant amid trees
Odd artifact in nature
No truck comes calling
Litter of “Lite” cans
Aluminum smashed flatter
Than the brew they held
Lone hubcap, rusting
Little airplane gin bottle
Party in the ditch
An hour’s brisk walking
Indian summer’s last gasp?
43°
Overnight deep freeze
Makes rooftops look like my head
All covered in white
Overnight deep freeze
That faint scraping sound? Neighbors
Clearing their windshields
Sorry, but if we
Want de frost we’ll open de
Refrigerator
Hey, Mother Nature!
We love frosting, but save it
For cupcakes, cornflakes
———————————
Silver branches shake
And shiver, their crimson coat
Fallen to the ground
Huge winter storms have already blasted Alaska, Colorado and big swaths of the Northeast. (Ever notice that if you’re in a “swath” nothing good is going to happen around you?) I just hope we aren’t in for a repeat of last winter — though the big storms and deep freezes were easy subjects, right when I was starting to write regularly. Here are the past winter’s weather verses, with dates.
Jan. 21
Don’t drink much these days
But I’m afraid I’ll get plowed
Before my street does
Big storm was too much
For Kansas City road crews
If you get my drift
Feb. 2
The snow crews were ready for our second big blast. But man, was it cold.
My God they’re heroes
The folks behind the big plows
Beat the blizzard back
Buddha made me do these:
We truly aspire
To eliminate desire
But I need some heat!
We say namaste
On this frigid, frozen day
To warm our true hearts
We say namaste
To recognize the divine:
A breve latte
Feb. 3
Bitter cold made a few things unthinkable.
Calendar says it’s
Lunar New Year; guess I’ll
Moon someone today
Think it’s a dog’s life?
Obviously you haven’t
Peed outside lately
Would a nice muffler
Get these weather guys to just
Shut up already!?
Wife threw me over
For new-fangled snowblower
Can’t say I blame her
Please, my old shovel
Dig me out of my hovel
I lamely grovel
Feb. 4, Zero-tolerance haiku
You know it’s cold when
You curl up in your icebox
And you feel warmer
You know it’s cold when
Wild-eyed weatherman just laughs
Uncontrollably
You know it’s cold when
Birds skate across your birdbath
And they’re wearing skarves
You know it’s cold when
Waitress spills coffee on you
And you raise her tip
These ran on The Kansas City Star business page, for the area’s big corporate names.
H&R Block
You know it’s cold when
Tax man can’t stand the zeroes
On Form 1040
Hallmark
You know it’s cold when
Even greeting card writers
Can’t find a good word
Sprint
You know it’s cold when
You can hear a pin drop then
Hear the pin shatter
Garmin
You know it’s cold when
Even your GPS thinks
You’re at the North Pole
YRC Worldwide
You know it’s cold when
Every big rig’s cargo is
Refrigerated
Cerner
You know it’s cold when
Your medical software reads
Zeros but no 1’s
American Century
You know it’s cold when
Your clients’ liquid assets
Are frozen solid
And for our friends in broadcast media:
You know it’s cold when
Fox, NPR snuggle up
To try to get warm
Feb. 10
Forecast: High 40
Whoever thought that would be
Music to our ears?
Feb. 25
Buryin’ my car
Deep-six(inch)in’ my driveway
Winter, it’s baa-aack
Shovel that driveway
So I can get downtown and
Shovel my workload
Damn that traffic jam
You’d think these yahoos never
Saw snow in their lives
Bald guy with bald tires
Slides clean off the highway — ditched
Like a bad toupee
Beautiful snow, that’s
BS for short — and for long
Way too long, I say
Snowblower weather
This meets the definition
Yeah, it blows all right
Perfect second car?
A tow truck! Perfect third car?
A big old snowplow
March 14
Fat, wet, white, flaky
— The snow, not me, smart aleck —
A mid-March flurry
Hip old shoveler
Clears drive gingerly, knows he
Must avoid spring break
We’ve had a glorious fall in and around Kansas City, and I think we deserved it after blizzards and a long heat wave. Here are some verses from summer, concluding with some celebrating a couple of breaks in the heat.
July 14
Haiku enough for you?
It’s so hot out there
Lady Gaga is wearing
Just one big ice cube
It’s so bad, servers
At Cold Stone Creamery say,
“Careful, this plate’s hot”
(And don’t sweat this one if you aren’t a Harry Potter fan)
It’s so hot I can
Disapparate and I’m not
Even a wizard
Wilson Pickett sings
The weather: “99 and
“A Half (Just Won’t Do)”
The Stones try to sing
“She’s So Cold” but it comes out
As “Gimme Swelter”
Tried to say “No sweat”
But a hot wind snatched the words,
Suffocated them
Expiration date
On everything (but this heat)
Just moved up a month
Perspiration date
On everything alive has
Been set to “right now”
It’s even torrid
On the Web; better send this
Before Hotmail melts
July 21
98°
With shade, breeze, feels like only
96°
It’s so bad outside
You keep having hot flashes
And you’re a young guy
It’s so hot outside
I’m taking panting lessons
From my neighbor’s dog
July 22
Hot off the haiku press
On baked paths, paths shift
Joggers, walkers no longer
Avoid the sprinklers
Tree, grass, bush, flower
Nature turns alcoholic
Dying for a drink
Trimmed terrier trots
Paucity of paws’ pauses
Happy haircut hound
Radiant runner
Not breathless but breathtaking
Skin shines, sweat glistens
July 28
“Heat’s getting to him” haiku
It’s so hot outside
We’re grilling all of our meals
And don’t need charcoal
It’s so hot outside
All our tomatoes have been
Classified “sun dried”
It’s so hot outside
Even all the dry ice is
Sweating profusely
Baked-brain guy wagging
Middle finger at the sun
Shouts, “Here’s my heat wave”
Done-in centipede,
On back, its final salute:
100 digits
100°
X most of July =
One well-baked product
So hot I wonder:
My lawn or the power grid,
Which browns out first?
Aug. 2
Afternoon drive haiku. High temp, 107:
Good God these numbers
Should be for FM stations
Not temperatures
So hot I should be
Hallucinating, but dang
The bank temp sign’s real
Seasonal menu
It’s not just the potatoes
Everything’s twice baked
Seasonal menu
Pat’s Burger Bar now serving
Only Patty Melts
Seasonal menu
Every kind of candy’s been
Replaced by Red Hots
Seasonal menu
Sizzling fajitas prepared
For sizzling eaters
Aug. 5
“Big drip, little verses” haiku
Grey slab speeds across
The morning sky, makes the sun
Take a too-rare break
Who ordered the rain
For this august occasion?
Must send a thank you
Oh, I’ve lost the sense
To come in out of the rain
H2(Greg)O-O!
No one else is out
Except in their cars. What’s wrong
With all these people?
Despite umbrella
My back is soaked and I know
Rest of me can’t wait
Ditch the umbrella
Mother Nature give me all
Your liquid assets
Gloriously soaked
Even shoes and socks feel good
Grant my wish to squish
Late bloomers, awake
It’s our season to become
Wildflowers in May
Stop under a tree
To scribble notes; can’t let these
Impressions wash out
Near home, the lightning
Finally shows, splits the sky
Time to bolt inside
Aug. 11
“Made to order” haiku:
August, feels like spring
This morning of all mornings
Day made to order
A shady sidewalk
Stretched out for a mile, waiting
For walkers to come
Fresh air, a clean slate
Something makes it all feel new
No expectations
Delicious menu
Ripe with possibilities
What sounds good to you?
Greg's Hack-u 