true love is hard to find.

it's like turning lead into gold,
water into wine,

ketchup into barbeque sauce.

miracles do occur,
most often times
under moonlight

and sometimes under saffron and silky streetlight.


(play your wild card, Sam.
bet the jack of hearts,
run with the feeling.)

(she has

ICE,  BLUE, EYES,
and so innocent.

he wonders what it will feel like to hold her.

(think Sam,
use your imagination.)

(the clock is ticking on you, Sam,
let's do something crazy)


the what IF?

(with billions of stars
what if,
we are???

you can't always be an angel???)

he is searching for the perfect line.

Sam does not know she will bury his heart
in silent sorrow

he does not see the ghost in her eyes,
the blueness of ice and empty tears


she turns and smiles at Sam.

Lawrence Hall, HSG
Mhall46184@aol.com

                        Everyone Writes Haiku about the Moon

                               And that’s because we love her

The soft, swelling moon
It’s as if she’s giving birth
Giving us new life

The ground has been
Trembling all day,
The sky dark
With resentment,
Holding unto
Buckets of water,
The wind screams
And throws a tantrum
In the street,
And I can’t seem
To keep the thoughts
At bay.

haiku attempt 1.

the bums are barbequing

rats by the river

I'll bring the barbeque sauce.

haiku 2.

with billions of stars
and billions of planets
what if we are it.

god's experiment is failing.

haiku attempt no. 3

oooppps,
I forget to hit "draft".

the sun shines bright

the waves are easy and calm

the breeze is warm,
it caresses my face

yet, in the distance,

somehow,

I still hear the rumbling
of the never-ending storm.

Charlie the gnome needed a home
and so he looked around,
the garden shed too big he said
and too high off the ground.

The bar b que would never do
the ash would make me sneeze,
so on I go look high look low
in and around the trees.

The bird box white would be too tight
with chicks that chirp and cheep,
and constant song the whole day long
I'd never get to sleep.

The kennels large but then there's Sarge
and all his smelly toys,
plus after dark he likes to bark
and make a lot of noise.

The house I found is out of bound
too many folk in there,
so I'll stay out and look about
as I don't like to share.

A wooden crate there by the gate
would make a perfect home,
it's not too small or wide nor tall
it's just right for this gnome.

I need a door and windows four
some carpet and a bed,
a rocking chair would look good there
or maybe there instead.

Yes this is fine and it's all mine
with roses all around,
the place it seems straight from my dreams
is what I think I've found.

Charlie the gnome no more will roam
his house is warm and bright,
with flower beds of blues and reds
and picket fence of white.








A wooden crate down by the gate