Since I missed Feature Friday this week, I'll do a late-night Sunday Special. Then it's off to bed, because tomorrow is a Writing Day!
My heart yearns to dance.
Hemmed in it is on each side.
Lungs and ribs and such.
Dolphins always look
like they're so gosh-darned happy.
Bottle-nosed, that is.
Carrots grow below.
Wolves run in the untamed wild.
Men like to eat beef.
Use your umbrella
When it rains, or when you need
Shade. Not for dueling.
Blogger keeps giving
an error message. I don't
know what it is for.
Have you ever tried
to knock someone out? It's much
harder than you'd think.
Emotion drifts like
the ice you never see but
know is there somewhere.
I'd like to ride in
a hot-air balloon. No, I
don't really want that.
The lion and the
unicorn, fighting for the
crown. The hippo won.
I keep stepping on
all these dang toys. Why are there
so, so many toys?
The last line on that
last haiku was kind of a
cheat. Oh well. Who cares?
How would you describe
the taste of the inside of
your mouth? The world turns...
"Actors will be paid
a stipend" is code for "You
might make thirty bucks."
I should start a new
feature called, "Things seen this week
on Theatreport."
I've always wanted
to make friends with a penguin.
Won't happen, though. Sigh.
If monkeys and apes
are so smart, why haven't they
learned how to steal cars?
Red. Color of love.
Green. Color of a thousand
frogs. Popcorn is white.
La da da. La da
da. La da da. La da da.
I wrote a pop song.
I never learned how
to play the harmonica.
Shoot. I would be rich.
Still getting the same
error message from Blogger.
I need Tron. Where's Tron?
Put on a creepy
robe. Pop some popcorn. Sip on
some herbal iced tea.
This will be the last
haiku I write tonight. So
goodnight. I'm for bed.
