"They are poetry."
"Well, what is poetry then?"
"That's a good question."

"Hm. Poetry is:
words arranged in a rhythm.
Poems have a beat."

"Like spoken music
poems can go 'Bum da bum'
and sometimes they rhyme."

"A haiku has beats.
It has five in the first line,
then seven, then five."

Mark said, "I'm impressed.
Now explain it in haiku."
Ha! I just did it.

Photo credit: by ToniVC on Flickr

Rebecca left a comment on my my last post about her autistic nephew and her sister's love for him: "she loves him for who he is, he poses a tremendous challenge, but she would not change that for the world because she said that to ask for a different child would mean to have not accepted him or loved him at all."

And that reminded me of one of my favorite poems, one that has always seemed to speak to my marriage, and I think speaks to my relationship with my son too. And it makes me giggle too.

if seventy were young
and death uncommon
(forgiving not divine,
to err inhuman)
or any thine a mine
--dingdong:dongding--
to say would be to sing

if broken hearts were whole
and cowards heroes
(the popular the wise,
a weed a tearose)
and every minus plus
--fare ill:fare well--
a frown would be a smile

if sorrowful were gay
(today tomorrow,
doubting believing and
to lend to borrow)
or any foe a friend
--cry nay:cry yea--
november would be may

that you and i'd be quite
--come such perfection--
another i and you,
is a deduction
which(be it false or true)
disposes me to shoot
dogooding folk on sight

~ee cummings

Friend getting married.
Mark wasn't talking to me.
Boyfriend wouldn't change.

I'd graduated.
I reached my goal, the degree,
and I was back home.

I planned all my life
to get that degree; never
planning for after.

I felt so empty.
A good career? The right man?
What would complete me?

No job and no plan.
Exhausted. Parents fighting.
I wanted escape.

I packed up and moved
to the edge of the Midwest
with my then boyfriend.

Nine months together:
a studio apartment
and twin bed for two.

I did some temp work,
took long walks alone at dusk,
called Mark from pay phones.

Nine months together:
Boyfriend and I were finished.
I flew to Mark's arms.

Still always thinking:
if only Boyfriend would change,
life would be perfect.

In a new city,
thousands of miles from my home,
I started anew.

Two hundred dollars,
no job and no place to live,
my friends carried me.

I found more temp work
(soon a job with benefits)
and a room for rent.

Spent time campaigning:
A different Clinton against
a different George Bush.

Ended ninety two
in a very different place
and in the same place.

In a new city,
thousands of miles from my home:
quite a different place.

What would complete me?
Three men and no career plan.
My mind hadn't moved.

Maybe I'll listen
and write tomorrow instead,
leave today to rain.

I feel like Seinfeld
and his show about nothing:
Blog about nothing!

Well, damn that Seinfeld!
Now I want my nothing posts
to be funnier.

Hours spent trying
to remove glue from the tank:
More than three so far.

The tank still looks like
the fish are swimming in milk.
Mama's frustrated.

This story's moral?
Never leave kids alone with
A bottle of glue.

Obama is hot.
I do like his vision but
He has a penis.

I want a woman
There in the Oval Office
Running the country.

I'm so tired of
Women just servicing the
President instead.

I'm so excited.
If I could, I think I'd bear
Hillary's children.

I think some people
Are voting for Hillary
Just to shut me up.

Sniffling, sneezing.
Taking it easy this week.
Blog is neglected.

Still, I'll take a cold
Over a stomach virus
Any time I can.

Rain pouring outside.
My daughter calls winter rain
silver water-snow.

Haiku Friday is
spreading out to other blogs:
Jen writes for Jesus.

My Catholic mother
would be proud I inspired
Haiku for Jesus.

This morning I had
a Higher Power moment
showing me my way.

Next week I hope that
I can blog about marriage,
God, autism, race...

And maybe about
letters, careers and money.
Not much to say, huh?

The rain keeps falling.
A small bird huddles outside
ruffling feathers.

Vomit on carseat,
sofa, blanket, best loved toy...
I hate viruses.