A Stream of Haiku

Poetry experiment!

Nothing makes me miss

Summer quite like the smell of

A fresh, ripe orange.

Orange in the place

Of teeth, a first-grader goes

Running off, grinning.

Grinning once, glowing,

The jack-o-lanterns now sit

Shriveled, old, and dead.

“Dead as a doornail”

Is certainly dead, and yet,

Never once alive.

Alive: alert and

Active, animated, filled

With life, organic.

Organic matter

Makes this strange machine that is

My body, a Soul.

Soul is the difference

Between words and poetry,

From music to sound.

“Sound the alarm! The

Great White Whale! Thar she blows, mates!”:

Ahab’s final words.

Words are funny things:

They can make or break a war,

Or else mean nothing.


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