Crayons in the Sun

The Metamorphosis of Snow

Harold Boulette Jr — Tue, 09 Feb 2010 14:12:00 GMT

So gentle does the snowflake fall
Like the smallest downy feather
Yet when I need to shovel
It's tough as rhino leather!

On Writing Poetry

Harold Boulette Jr — Tue, 09 Feb 2010 12:54:00 GMT

Just grab a pen and scribble down all thoughts inside your head
Then worry them and mangle them until they're nearly dead
Then find the ones that still show life
And teach them how to sing.

The Moon Came out on Sunday

Harold Boulette Jr — Tue, 29 Dec 2009 09:48:00 GMT

The moon came out on Sunday
But the clouds did hide his shame
For rising on the sun's day,
He really was to blame.

“Just a minute” said the moon,
The sun offends me too
By shining forth on Monday
The day that I shine true.

So moon and sun agreed to share
The sky on every day
Until the time of Great Change comes
And one will melt away.

Christmas Bell

Harold Boulette Jr — Sat, 19 Dec 2009 11:53:00 GMT

Its Just a Christmas bell
From an old time Christmas tree
Yet when it starts to ring
My soul will sing to me.

It isn't made of gold or silver,
Just brass with a tin clapper
But the heavenly sound it makes
Defies it's mortal wrapper.

I don't know where it came from
Or how long it's been around,
But I will have it 'till I die
And leave it to be found

By someone else who's ready
To fall under it's spell
And let their soul start singing
When they hear the Christmas bell.

This poem was previously published on my spiritual blog.

Autumn Haiku 2009

Harold Boulette Jr — Fri, 11 Dec 2009 08:25:00 GMT

cold autumn day
leaves fallen from the trees,
purple asters.

piles of wet leaves
under naked trees--
box turtle sleeps

the autumn trees
stripped of leaves--
hard to tell apart

through naked branches
on an autumn morning--
bright sunlight

One Show Ballerina

Harold Boulette Jr — Tue, 01 Dec 2009 21:45:00 GMT

A one-show ballerina,
She twirls and spins and glides,
Colors flashing in the light
She shows her many sides.

But now her dance is over
She’s landed in the grass
To be racked with other leaves
Her first show was her last.

Thanksgiving

Harold Boulette Jr — Thu, 26 Nov 2009 09:08:00 GMT

Turkey roasting in the oven,
Harvested vegetables on the stove
Aromas of cranberry and fudge
Now compete with cinnamon and clove.
Kin and kindred spirits come to
Share in our feast and joyfulness.
Gratefulness shown for all we have
In a toast of love and happiness.
Very special blessings to all
In our homes and thoughts this special day,
Never forgetting from whom it came
“God bless us” we all say.
By Harold Boulette Jr.

Myspace Graphics, Thanksgiving Graphics at WishAFriend.com

Pumpkin, Pumpkin

Harold Boulette Jr — Sat, 31 Oct 2009 10:21:00 GMT

Pumpkin, pumpkin on my step
Do you think I am a schlep
Because when kids knock on the door
I will not give junk food galore?

It's just 'cause everytime I do
Few kids come for treat or trick
So I'm left with piles of candy
To eat and eat 'till I get sick.

A Visit to a Nursing Home

Harold Boulette Jr — Thu, 22 Oct 2009 19:49:00 GMT

    The nursing home is not an attractive place, at least not inside. It resembles a hospital, which it is in a way, rather than an apartment building or a condo. Rooms are utilitarian, filled with medical equipment and few creature comforts. There are odors not quite hidden by air fresheners.
    Some of the elderly wander around on their own, but most need help from a nurses aide. There never seem to be enough staff for everyone.
    Only a few have visitors today.  Some wait for relatives that never show.

waiting for a visit
from his dead sister -
perhaps tonight

    A therapy dog arrives with her owner to visit with the lonely patients. She brings out smiles where there were none before. AN old man who is usually rather grumpy, pats her and talks to her in a quiet, soothing voice. He refers to her by the name of his old dog. She doesn't seem to notice.

petting a dog -
awakening
the past

    In the common room, their meal is over and they settle down for to an evening of watching television, playing games, or reading. One old woman with failing eyesight picks up a children's illustrated book. She can no longer read the words, but she enjoys the pictures.

bright colors -
a gleam
in old eyes

    The dog and her owner are leaving now. The dog is still wagging her tail. None of it depresses her. She has made new friends. I wonder, when the dog is old and senile, will anyone visit her?

My first attempt at Haibun. I hope I haven't messed it up too badly.

Crazy Cocoa Pup

Harold Boulette Jr — Sat, 10 Oct 2009 09:05:00 GMT

An empty can of dog food comes bouncing down
The stairs, announcing every step it takes
By clanging like a cowbell. Then “Cocoa Pup!”
I yell from the bottom of the stairs
“I told you to stay out of the trash can”.

He Appears at the top of the stairs with
A look that says “I don't know what you're talking about”.
So I pick up the dog food can and hold it up.
I say, “this”, As I carry the can back upstairs.

I put the can back in the kitchen waste basket
And turning to Cocoa I say, “Stay out of the trash!”
He wags his tail as if agreeing while I head
Angrily back downstairs to the rec room sofa.

I sit downstairs, watching television
And just as the action quietly pauses
I hear the cowbell clanging again.

Cocoa

A Fine Ship

Harold Boulette Jr — Fri, 18 Sep 2009 06:46:00 GMT

The ship was anchored in the harbor
All ready for a trip,
Perhaps to France or Germany
It hoped it soon would slip

It was the greatest ship around
With decks of finest teak.
It was fast and strong and nimble
And it’s sails were at their peak.

Yet there it sat for days on end,
It had no crew or captain,
It rotted, growing barnacles until
A hurricane left it sunken.

This poem was previously published on my spiritual blog.

The Swimmer

Harold Boulette Jr — Fri, 04 Sep 2009 08:39:00 GMT

A powerful swimmer, really I am!
And the river currents are not very strong,
So swimming against them should not wear me out
And I don’t think to fight them could ever be wrong.

Some others go by me, just floating along
Enjoying the scenery shifting
But, like a few others, I keep on swimming,
Avoiding those lazy ones drifting.

I can’t swim forever, although I will try
Against the current that will not subside.
I tire, losing ground, it just can’t be helped
The river of time just cannot be denied.

Some Pity Part 1

Harold Boulette Jr — Sun, 16 Aug 2009 09:34:00 GMT

Some pity the Agave worms
Drowned in jugs of tequila
But such a death is better
Than fishhooks in a river.

Cinders in the Chimney

Harold Boulette Jr — Sat, 08 Aug 2009 07:52:00 GMT

Cinders in the chimney
I wonder what was burned?
Simple wood for heating,
Or dreams not understood?
Plans that lacked conviction
Or talents pushed aside
Because the system told
Those skills just did not pay?

Cinders in the chimney
So call a chimney sweep,
Or hope we can recover
Those dreams and plans we burned?
Talents parents told us
Just couldn't make a buck,
Can we reclaim them still,
Or are we out of luck?

This poem was previously published on my spiritual blog.

Contradiction

Harold Boulette Jr — Sun, 12 Jul 2009 08:01:00 GMT

I sit upon the sofa with
The blinds half shut, sipping a beer
And listening to the radio
While reading from a favorite book,

A book of classic poetry:
Poems about flowers, poems about trees,
Poems about sunshine, bluebirds and bees,
Poems about blue skys, wind and rain,
Poems about thunder and a hurricane.

I read them rapt, I love nature so
As I sit on my sofa, blinds half shut.

Red:

Harold Boulette Jr — Tue, 07 Jul 2009 08:05:00 GMT

Tomatoes, roses, blood, stop.
Hatred, anger, prejudice.
Stop.

The Oracle

Harold Boulette Jr — Fri, 12 Jun 2009 06:57:00 GMT

The oracle stands tall and straight
White robes glowing like a dove in the morning sun.
Her dark eyes seem to say:
"Be careful what you ask; a foolish question
Will get a foolish answer."

But they ask them anyway, the mighty
And the rich:
"Will I win the war?"
"Will I have a child?"
"Will my business have success?"

And the oracle answers their foolish questions
Honestly, but cryptically.
And the fools leave satisfied,
Interpreting the oracle as they wish, believing
What they want to believe, which is usually
Not the truth.

previously published on my spiritual blog.

Text Me

Harold Boulette Jr — Fri, 01 May 2009 19:40:00 GMT

I need to know what your doing today,
So text me.

I need to know what rumors you've heard,
So text me.

I need to know what Kim said to Joe
And what Joe said to Kim,
So text me.

I need to know what Rick said to Joan
That made Joan moan,
So text me!

I need to keep in touch,
I need to know so much,
So just because you're standing next to me
Doesn't mean you can't be texting me.
So text me!

Dandelions

Harold Boulette Jr — Tue, 28 Apr 2009 10:11:00 GMT

a spring walk
past a village of dandelions
in the schoolyard

Flowers

Harold Boulette Jr — Sun, 26 Apr 2009 15:36:00 GMT

Tiny blue flowers
dwarfed by a single
dandelion