Perhaps, I am too quick to call it Greed:
this yearning for an accumulation,
this lust of Mine! self-gratification,
a trophy case crammed with coin,
heads (metaphorical and otherwise),
ivory trinkets carved of banned tusk,
Likes, notches on the bedpost
(that shows my age!) Firepower!
The rich give, but not without accolades,
plaques for display and….receipts.
Nature demands self-interest
if we are to survive, but studies show:
the poor give more than the rich;
percentage wise, of course!
(that could be Fake News)
One thing to me, another thing to you.
What of a heart soothed by Riches lure
more than thanks of those in need?
Perhaps, I am too quick to call it greed;
one thing to me, another thing to you.
Author: Leo
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greed
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Witness
The leaves are gone. Wind rejoices in Their leaving for their dance betrays; Painting hints of body on his shame. Shoulders cringe under iced breath ravaging this frigid, emptying street. Chimes to the right sing winds intent, To flee this memory, falling behind, To allow us to lie in a contrived bliss Like those wreaths on those graves.
The leaves are gone. Wind rejoiced in their leaving for their dance betrayed: painting hints of body on his shame. A witness of this carnage, he whirled in helplessness, sharing horrid chaos with us despite our hands over our ears. Shoulders cringe beneath iced-breath ravaging this frigid, manicured yard. Chimes to the right sing winds intent to flee this memory, fall far away, to lie in a contrived complacency like these plastic wreaths on these graves.
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Bobcat On The Cartercay
Stock photo
This is an old poem, thought lost, but recently recovered. A real memory.Haibun: Bobcat On The Cartercay
Drifting on a jade current slow as this August day; the erratic clunk of oar-gunnel collide complements mosquito’s whine and only a raucous call of Dryocopus pileatus startles me back from my innocuous memory glide. My fingers, trailing through the cool water, paint splendid, ephemeral works of art. Verdant spillings of laurel, fern, jeweled weeds and clinging vines tumbling from tracked banks, glossy with malodorous mud, narrow and crook my creek canvas. Around a turn so slight and he is there; we both, mid-creek, suddenly aware and he, swinging around, retraces his eddying path. Reaching the right bank, he emerges with a rippling shake and his stare follows me ….me, staring with wonder, drifting by, while his eyes, softly intent, expressed no surprise, no reproach I can discern. None at all. Now turning, unhurriedly….one step….two….into the dappled green tangle and he is gone…..like a thought lost; his image in my mind instantly vague, generic… swirling by.
obliviously
intended prey a drake bobs
summer’s shallow shade
Bobcat
Drifting on a jade current slow
as the August day..…. the erratic
clunk of oar/gunnel collide
complemented mosquito whine
and only the raucous call of
Dryocopus pileatus startled me
from an innocuous memory glide.Verdant spillings of laurel, fern,
jeweled weeds and clinging vines
narrowed the creek from tracked banks
glossy with malodorous mud.Around a turn so slight and he was there;
we both, mid-creek, suddenly aware….and
swinging around, he reached the right bank
emerging with a shake; his stare, void
of any emotion I could discern,
followed me ….me staring with wonder.
His eyes, softly intent, expressed no reproach.
Then turning, unhurriedly….one step
….two….into the dappled tangle,
he was gone…..like a thought lost;
his image instantly vague and generic.A drake, his intended prey,
bobbed the left shallows obliviously. -
Haiku
Dog squats
Head held high
Not sniffing
Honeysuckle scent
With head high….dog slowly squats
Intent….not sniffing.
-
Bird

Speckle/breasted thrasher chucks the one-eye;
tschuck!…tschuck!…tschuck! he warns and scolds
perceived encroaching. Sorry, I mumble at his cry.
How did I reach this instant, this soul plateau,
accepting censure from an ill-mannered bird….
his chirps articulate, more true than mine;
their spring pure unlike my struggling words
failing to fathom their season, their place in time?
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Gossamer Chain
Clinking gossamer of phantom links
Weak as will, strong as adoration,
Binds us One from our separate shores,
At times, dangling to currents tumult,
Jerking, teasing a tangled bereavement.
But, at times, tensing to beams of bliss.
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Plastic Flowers

Gaia reveals the truth, at times,
Not subtly, but rocking….tumbling
What we deem rock and tumble proof.
That flora in that window box,
So bright and white and red; erect
Despite this freeze? Distance deceives
Our naive hearts and eyes effortlessly.
Scent would have squealed; revealed the fib.
Too high the price a sniff demands?
We “hem and haw” and she larks.
Our claims of dominion, our crow,
As meaningless as plastic blooms.
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october

final sweet release
dry tick-tock fluttering down
rasping amber light
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Haiku: poetic license
poetic license….
flung to lime pond scum…“There frog!”
Nonrefundable!
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Haiku: Thief
Honeybees…. zing…zing
Divining pure sustenance
I take it from them!