Wandering Blunders

I stubbed my toe wading in the Indian Ocean.
I fell up a wooden staircase bruising my arm.
I fell down a cement step skinning my knee.
I stubbed my toe wading in the Indian Ocean
and blistered my feet tiptoeing on broiling sands.

I’ve run with cramps from Montezuma’s Revenge.
I’ve done my business behind a Kopji boulder.
I’ve found relief beside a Range Rover.
I’ve run with cramps from Montezuma’s Revenge,
but I couldn’t use a hole without handholds.

On my way home, I’ve scratched my ankles raw.
I’ve hunted with cheetahs, fished with orcas.
I’ve danced with flamingos and arthritic flares.
On my way home, I’ve scratched my ankles raw
providing a tasty meal for chiggers and ticks.

I stood my ground during a brown bear charge.
I tripped over tumbleweed’s sagebrush.
I walked along the Sacred Way with ghosts
I stood my ground during a brown bear charge,
but wouldn't kiss the downside-up Blarney Stone.

Brown Bear leading her cub away from a male
by Jeter Skeet

Dublin (haibun)

Dublin, the home of Trinity College and St. Patrick’s Cathedral, is our first stop on this whirlwind tour of the Emerald Isle with a group of students.

winds from the seas

send unending clouds—a mist

to eclipse the sun

How do Dubliners endure the gloom?

doors of townhouses

red, yellow, green, blue, and  more

make no mistake

This spot of color adds some cheer to the atmosphere—and makes it possible for Dubliners, who love their Guinness, to find the right home.

a Tart with a Cart

sells cockles and muscles

alive, alive—ooooh

I admire a bronze statue of a buxom broad with a teasing smile while a small man sits on its base and leans against the cart.  He’s a leprechaun who keeps a lively beat on a goatskin drum with a double-headed mallet. You can photograph him for a tip.  Dublin too has its starving artists.

violin, bass,

and harpsichord waltz with you

on cobblestones

I find myself at the pedestrian mall on Grafton Street trying to read a marker embedded in the cement beneath my feet to keep from making a fool of myself by dancing. The bronze sign marks one of the places Leopold Bloom visited one day thanks to James Joyce.  I’m reminded of W.B. Yeats, Samuel Beckett, Oscar Wilde, and many, many Irish storytellers.  They know how to endure gloom.  I’m learning their secret. Create your own sunshine.

a king with golden skin

will knight you with a feather

for a silver coin

It just so happens that I have a euro in my pocket.

Grafton St., Dublin, Ireland
by Jeter Skeet