I will write my name 100 times
I will raise my hand before speaking
I will wait my turn
I will stay in my seat
I will not throw spitballs
I will not pull girls’ ponytails
I will not snap bra straps
I will keep my hands to myself
I will not drug my classmates
I will not rape my classmates
I will not invite others to rape my classmates
I will not learn anything by writing it
I will keep doing what I can get away with
mlc2026©️
Roaring engines at three a.m.
Racing north up the highway
Throttling the noise
Screeching to a halt
As they approach the stoplight
Just past my house
Again the roaring engines
Having made u-turns at CVS
Barrel south out of town
Yeehawing with delight
Waking the sleeping
Humans and creatures alike.
I wonder. Is it for safety they choose
Deserted streets in the predawn hours?
Or is it for danger? Exhilarating
Into the darkness, chancing the unknown. Silence is the stage
Echos are the applause.
mlc2026©️
When we were young
I knew you’d be a mom.
Loving babies into becoming
Wild, wonderful, wunderkinds.
I knew you’d be a wife
Loving your husband into becoming
Hugger-in-Chief
Successful at serenading
Partner in parenting
I knew you would be an artist
wearing creative clothing
A poet filling journal pages
inspired by your quote collection
A dancer moving to music
freely expressing life
A musician at heart
expressing emotions in song
A forest wanderer knowing the names
of flowers and trees and birds
A mountain log cabin lover
willing to live with fresh air and bugs
A reader comfy in an easy chair
Pages lit by the sunlight
I knew you’d be a grandma
Enjoying the delights of littles
Running into your arms
Hugging you and not letting go.
I knew you’d leave behind
The masks you collected
As you butterflied into being
Your beautiful wonderful you.
mlc2026©️
*Song title from Firefall 1976
Summer breeze
Green leaf flutters
Glimpse of yellow
mlc2026©️
*Prompt: Almost – without using the word. Haiku Passion Newsletter on Substack – Mark Duncan Stuart
The strains of music swell
Stretching my heart into a cathedral
Filled with harmonies of angels
mlc2026©️
After Sonnet 132 by William Shakespeare
Your dark eyes
Where I look long for love
Lack warmth, shirk honesty,
Drip with disdain.
A smirk tilts your mouth
Your brow furrows with pity
Your beautiful face mirrors
your inner thoughts betraying
some interest in me,
Though it be mournful
For the suffering you cause me.
Your heart is hard,
Shut off from my care
Causing me to mourn.
I can’t resist your allure
So I will defend you
Just to keep your gaze.
mlc2026©️
Sonnet 132 by William Shakespeare
Thine eyes I love, and they, as pitying me,
Knowing thy heart torment me with disdain,
Have put on black, and loving mourners be,
Looking with pretty ruth upon my pain.
And truly not the morning sun of heaven
Better becomes the gray cheeks of the east,
Nor that full star that ushers in the even
Doth half that glory to the sober west
As those two mourning eyes become thy face.
O, let it then as well beseem thy heart
To mourn for me, since mourning doth thee grace,
And suit thy pity like in every part.
Then will I swear beauty herself is black,
And all they foul that thy complexion lack.
“Fiji will you untangle this for me?”
Shoving a handful of satin cords and netting all in black,
3 plastic men in blue, green, and yellow, and 3 silky parachutes –
Evidence of some playing gleeful games
Tossing them up and watching them float
Down down down
Not one at a time but all at once
To see which would be first
Or last
I don’t know which would be better?
“Hurry Fiji hurry!”
Old eyes focus on the faint sheen of the satin ribbons, knotted and twisted
With tufts of netting caught in the maze
Stretching openings while balancing 3 paratroopers, I call for another pair of hands.
The work is slow, tedious, threading
Or should I say unthreading?
A man through here, another there
“Are you done yet?”
No…
“I’ll take it now”, he assures us
But we keep at it, frenzied now, afraid
To mess it up. Finally, free at last!
“Gimme!” And he runs back outside
I’m sure to tangle them again.
mlc2026©️
Early autumn’s gift
yellow cottonwood leaves
polka-dot the wooden deck
inviting me to sit
My mind drifts off
hummed into a meditation
by the incessant screaming cicadas
Stilling the wind in the trees
My eye catches sight of
one leaf skittering
along a wooden plank
tracing the silent breeze
mlc2026©️
Yellow leaf skitters
Along a wooden plank
Tracing the breeze
mlc2026©️
Desert air sweeps through the mind
Shriveling even rootless mosses
Sand sifts into crevices of creativity
Suffocating souls and senses
Wind wraps itself in tumbleweeds
Scraping the surface of evidence of life
Sunlight bleaches fertile imaginations
Disabusing the muse of its power
Cactus needles can’t even prick
The conscience of a withered poet
So the poet wanders seeking shade,
A dew drop, and a seed.
mlc2026©️
