Thursday! The E-Zine for April 3, 2024

V4, I19

I wrote a lot of haiku this past week. The form has something to it that I can't put far from my mind. Even when I'd like to write something else, I can always summon a haiku. Isn't that odd?

I'm not claiming mastery here or anything like it. Were a true haiku master to come across mine, he'd likely bang his head against a very hard wall until he lost those memories¹. Still…I try to stay close to the intention of the form, even if I don't get it quite right. Tell me what you think!

I couldn't resist adding this story as well, which doesn't really match the theme, but might amuse you anyhow.

Cool? Cool!

Poems

• Daisy, Before the Spring Rain (Gravity and Certainty)

• Me and Mrs. Jones

• I (Mostly) Don’t Bite

• The Open Tomb

• Witches Got Stitches

Story

• The Most Timely Recipe

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Daisy, Before the Spring Rain (Gravity and Certainty)

Daisy, wait for the rain.
The drops will come in their time.
Be patient and grow.

Me and Mrs. Jones

Me and Mrs. Jones
We got a thing…that's mostly
Sung in traffic jams.

I (Mostly) Don’t Bite

Honest. I don't bite.
Well, there was that one time
When the moon was full.

The Open Tomb

A tomb with no body
Open to Sunday sunlight
And echoes of joy.

Witches Got Stitches

A well told punch line.
A crowded San Juan cauldron.
Quite the bruja ha!

(Back to Top)

The Most Timely Recipe

“I did it! It’s back.” Professor Lumley said, and grabbed the countertop for support. On the counter, the device that had once been a microwave oven, hummed softly and gave off a faint grey-white smoke that smelled of metal and burnt insulation. Inside it, visible through the dissipating haze, sat a hand-held digital voice recorder. It bore no trace of damage from the nearly-inconceivable power that had hurled it backwards through time and brought it to the time machine once again — no visible trace, at least. Time travel could do awful, twisting, destructive things, though.

He opened the door of the time machine and took out the recorder. His hand shook as he pushed the power button. When it flashed green and the screen came to life, he finally exhaled. How long had he been holding his breath? Breathe, he thought. You’re only halfway there.

He pressed the “play” button and relived the few seconds when he set it to record, placed it in the machine, and closed the door. There was a guttural squeal, the sound of an entire universe played in reverse at dizzying speed, and then…

“Oh please,” he whispered. “Be there.” He shoved back thoughts of the vast bidding war he could command if this worked and said his first-ever prayer.

When he heard the soothing baritone voice of Harlan Sanders quietly reading aloud the names and quantities of eleven very special herbs and spices, he nearly wept for joy. He was going to be rich.

(Photo Credit: manolomarin2 on Pixabay)

1. In a 5-7-5 pattern, of course.