HAIKU

A response for the Poem-A-Day/International Haiku Day / 4/17 prompt... Not A haiku, obviously, but there are some in here... (Sort of, for those purists out there)

:-)

HAIKU G. Smith (BMI) ——¥—– I met her back in college, She’s with me to this day; We couldn’t be more different, In oh, so many ways.

I like reading westerns, Listening to Haggard and Jones; Fishing whenever the water is wet, And being with her, alone.

And she likes haiku Sings along with Dave Matthews And says, “I love you.”

I like dogs and onion rings, And dogs out in the woods; I really want the Dawgs to win, Even when they aren’t that good.

I like reading the sports page Watching James Bond do his thing; And I don’t know what I’d do without her, That’s why I gave her a ring.

And she likes senryu, Gone With The Wind and tofu And says, “I love you.”

How did I get so lucky? It’s one thing I can’t see; She could have had anyone anywhere, Why did she choose me?

And she likes haiku, This knucklehead through and through, Tells me, “I love you.”

I tell her that, too; Don’t know what else I can do, “Baby, I love you.”

-----¥----- This and more/similar nonsense is at writersdigest.com/editor-blogs/poetic-asides

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THE VARSITY

The 4/16 prompt: a restaurant

THE VARSITY (c) 2016 G. Smith (BMI) -------------- Whataya have? Whataya have? The counterman sings. Chillidog, an F. O. And an order of rings.

Whataya have? Whataya have? The counterman hollers. A medium Coke and P.C. For a couple of dollars.

Walk one naked dog, Add an order of fries, Chili-steak, grilled pimento cheese, And two of those fried apple pies.

Whataya have? Whataya have? The counterman chants? If I eat any more, I'll need a new pair of pants. If I eat any more, I'll need a new pair of pants.

**** The "V" is (was) the largest drive-in, and is still packed on home game Saturday's whether or not GA Tech's got a good team. *** Check our the Poem-A-Day prompt at writersdigest.com/editor-blogs/poetic-asides

Check out the Varsity at the varsity.com

Bon appetite~!!!

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WRITE YOU A SONG

The Tax-day (4/15) Poem-A-Day prompt is choose and use at least four of the following eight words: flat ring lavish vessel paper blacklist gaudy tooth

I managed to sneak in all 8...

WRITE YOU A SONG G. Smith (BMI) ------------------------ I'm on your blacklist, And I don't know why; Can I make things right? You say, "Don't even try." An honest mistake? Please tell me the truth; Is this an eye-for-an-eye And a tooth-for-a-tooth?

Just give me a pen and some paper, And I will write you a song; To correct whatever you think it is, That I could have ever done wrong. Sure, it's just a vessel that carries my heart, Nothing lavish or gaudy, Just a plain, simple start.

You know I'm flat busted, Without you at my side, And I thought you said, That you'd be my bride; But it doesn't matter now; Doesn't mean anything, That I gave up my old life, And I gave you ring?

If you'll give me a pen and some paper, Then I will write you a song; To correct whatever you think it is, That I could have ever done wrong. Sure, it's just a vessel that carries my heart, Nothing lavish or gaudy, Just a plain, simple start. Nothing lavish or gaudy, Just a plain, simple start.

I'm on your blacklist, And I don't know why. *** Still coming from writersdigest.com/editor-blogs/poetic-asides

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TIMEOUT

The 4/14 Poem-A-Day prompt is TIMEOUT...

So I took one and offer this for your dining and dancing pleasure...

TIMEOUT G. Smith (BMI) •••••••••••••••••••• Timeout, let's take a break, Before we make ourselves a big mistake, Timeout, let's take a breath, And not turn this into life or death; It was a silly little nothing when it started, But it could grow into us being Broken hearted; Before it causes either of us doubts; Timeout.

Timeout, don't say a word, Think of what i said and not just what you heard; Timeout, let's take a seat and, Stop before this argument Turns into a beatin'. It was just a simple misunderstanding But it could very quickly start expanding, What is all this ruckus all about? Timeout.

Let's not get bat-crazy, Let's not go hog wild, Let's not pitch a fit Like some two year old child; Let's stay calm and collected, Let's not make a face and pout, Timeout, Baby, timeout

Timeout, let's take a pill, Let's let cooler heads prevail and just chill; Timeout, its not too late, To count to ten a time or two and wait. You can't recall the words once they've been said, And I don't want regrets bouncing 'round inside my head; Ain't no call to holler, scream, or shout, Timeout.

***** As has been the case~ everything you need or could possibly want, can be found at writersdigest.com/editor-blogs/poetic-asides

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LAST LAST TIME

Day 13 in the continuing April Poem-A-Day challenge: fill I the blank: LAST _______

LAST LAST TIME G. Smith (BMI) ---------//--------- I woke up worn out and stared at my coffee, Tried to make sense of the rest of my day; More of the same old same old awaits me, I sighed and decided that this ain't the way.

So far behind I think in first place, Trying to catch up is nothing new; Tired of being the last rat in the rat race, I've done it before at least a time or two.

So this is the, Last last time I start over again, The last last time I decide to begin; The last last time I say this is the end, The last last time I start over again.

I woke up and realized I'd slipped yet one more time, Backsliding back to the same old routine; I had to face facts, while it wasn't a major crime, I had to find a new change of scene.

Sure it's never too late to give it a shot, Never tio late to say I tried and failed; Never too late to realize what I've got, Never too late to drive that last nail.

So this is the, Last last time I start over again, The last last time I decide to begin; The last last time I say this is the end, The last last time I start over again.

I woke up alone an knew that I'd blown it, I'd chased love away like so often before; There wasn't a doubt, I might as well own it, As I sat and I stared at the half-open door.

So this is the, Last last time I start over again, The last last time I decide to begin; The last last time I say this is the end, The last last time I start over again. The last last time I start over again.

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HE SINGS SILLY SONGS

HE SINGS SILLY SONGS (c) 2016 - G. Smith (BMI) =========€========= He sings silly songs, To move his days along, Riding fences, The words are senseless, But he sings loud and strong.

He hums a merry melody, Though he doesn't know the key, Herding cattle, In the saddle, Is a long way from middle C.

He sings, "Hey, little doggies, "Come hither come quick, "There's a rabbit in the loggies, "And he knows the trick, "How to run through the brambles "And hop through the briars, "How to zig-zag and scramble, "Over all the barbed wires."

He starts at dark thirty, When the sunrise is pretty, Dew on the grass, The light rising fast, He's already singing his ditty.

He doesn't know sharp from flat, He just puts on his Stetson hat, Pulls on his coat, And picks out note; It's as simple as that.

He sings to the hills, To the trees and the sky, He sings to the birds, and picks out the words, That won't make him cry That won't make him cry.

He sings, "Morning, Mr. Robin, "Howdy do, Mr. Sun; "Here's thread and a bobbin "Let's sew up some fun. "Afternoon Sister Raincloud, "Evening Brother Moon, "Let me know if I'm too loud, "I'll be sleeping here soon."

He sings silly songs, To move his days along; Riding fences, The words are senseless.

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THIN-SKINNED

The 4/11 prompt for the Poem-A-Day Challenge is write about something DEFENSIVE.

Hope this doesn't OFFEND~

THIN-SKINNED G. Smith (BMI) ------------------------- You seem pretty thin-skinned to me, You seem pretty thin-skinned to me; It's a stone cold fact, The way you react; You seem pretty thin-skinned to me.

You always have a reason or two, You always have a reason or two; No matter what I say to you, About the silly things you do You always have a reason or two.

How come you're never to blame? How come you're never to blame? You wiggle and squirm, Like it's some kinda game, How come you're never to blame?

You always have a ready excuse; You always have a ready excuse; You might as well admit it, Denial will be no use; You always a ready excuse.

You seem pretty thin-skinned to me, You seem pretty thin-skinned to me; You say I'm always on your back And feel you're always under attack? Well you seem pretty thin-skinned to me.

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FEAR

The April 10 PAD Prompt fro Poetic Asides (writersdigest.com/editor-blogs/poetic-asides), is:

• PICK AN EMOTION • MAKE IT THE TITLE • WRITE

And so I did...

FEAR (c) 2016 G. Smith (BMI) ------------------------ I did two tours in Afghanistan, Saw things a man shouldn't see; Firefights on starless nights, Damage from IED's. I carried the wounded, I held the dying, I went for days without sleep; But I watched every step and kept my head down, Because I had promises, promises to keep.

I made it home, and kept working my plan, The one that had you here with me; From my lowest lows to my highest heights, There wasn't another place I wanted to be. You told me if we only kept trying, But at night when I hear you weep, And the morning your smile's been replaced by a frown, I wonder, should we make that leap?

And I fear the tears of not finding you here, I fear the hole in my heart; I fear not hearing you calling me dear, and, I fear us drifting apart.

I did two tours in Afghanistan, Saw things a man shouldn't see; Firefights on starless nights, Damage from IED's. I carried the wounded, I held the dying, I went for days without sleep; But I watched every step and kept my head down, Because I had promises, promises to keep.

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THE HIDEOUT

Day 9/of the Poetic Asides PAD challenge: HIDEOUT

So, naturally...

THE HIDEOUT G. Smith (BMI) ``````````°`````````` The Hideout's a bar on the Cobb County line, Where it's wet on their side, and it's dry here on mine. The gravel lot's packed come most Friday nights, With folks who left work for the bright neon lights.

There's a table in back where they rack up some pool, And the regulars take the newbies to school. There's an old timey jukebox, a Wurlitzer Grand, And a stage to one side 'cause sometimes there's a band.

Mike at the bar will let the phone ring, When asked, he just says he don't know anything. A wife or a girlfriend, or a boyfriend, who knows, He'll take a message, that's just how it goes.

There are posters and banners hung up on the walls And a bell that Mike rings when it's time for last call; It ain't much to look at, then there ain't much to see, But most weekends it feels almost homelike to me.

The Hideout's a bar on the Cobb County line, Where it's wet on their side, and it's dry here on mine. The gravel lot's packed come most Friday nights, With folks who left work for the bright neon lights.

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THE BALLAD OF DOODLE McGILL

The Day 8 PAD Prompt at writersdigest.com/editor-blogs/poetic-asides is DOODLE.

Here's what I noodled...

THE BALLAD OF DOODLE McGILL G. Smith (BMI) •••••][••••• Old Doodle was a friend of mine, He lived just over the hill; He's been gone for nine years now, But his house is up there still. He ran the flower shop in town, Till his old lady wore him down, There never was a kinder man around, Than Doodle, Doodle McGill.

Old Doodle did the daily grind, Six days every week; Weddings, proms, and Mother's Days, Each bouquet unique. Arrangements for the hospital, Sprays for every funeral, Didn't matter, big or little, That was Doodle, Doodle McGill.

One day Doodle opened up, It was his last day at the store, His wife came in with both barrels blaming; He won't be opening any more.

Old Doodle's downstate doing time, Life without parole; A model prisoner since day one, Not one day in the hole. Teaching cons the ins and outs What arranging flowers is all about, There never was a single doubt, It was Doodle, Doodle McGill; Old Doodle, Doodle, McGill.

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