Shrouded Shore: The Many Musings of Thom Singleton

  Write to Write Do I write to be right? So, when the words are black-and-white on the page, they are automatically right? Do I write to be in the light? For acclaim, for fame, or just to drain the pain of being alone? Must I never be wrong, a perfect bore, or always be in company for them to adore? I think not. Though it’s nice to be recognized, I’ll never be canonized for putting words on paper. Why then do I write, if not to be right, or to bask in the light? Keep asking these questions, Dear Poet Me, for maybe you’ll see that it’s simply to be  in the moment. Empty the cup, and see what comes up. Write to write in the moment.

  Haiku - January 31, 2023 Rising sun patterns Shining through the sheer curtains A tree filigree

  I Climbed a Mountain Down into the Earth I climbed a mountain down into the Earth, An iconic abyss of which there’s no dearth Of rock, and cactus, and heat. I brought little but water, for water is life, And the canyon’s history is riddled and rife With stories of death by thirst. Lower and lower through layers of stone, I descended through the Earth’s very bones, And finally reached the river. The river was green not with muck but with minerals, Roaring and pouring through an opening quite minimal, Yet found there a quiet eddy. I jumped in to cool off without hesitation, Though some would view this with trepidation, As close as I was to the green whitewater. The cool water refreshed me for the real mountain climb, Up the canyon wall taking my time, For by then it was in the high 80’s. On the way up I met a mule train descending. They owned the road, these beasts of burden, So I ducked into a rock opening. Finally I reached the top of the canyon, the Canyon known as Grand. There to m

  Haiku - January 30, 2023 Bright glow from the snow It makes it seem much later I drink my coffee

  Giving is a Gift I move my pen at the insistence of my heart to write words that offer you favor. You read my gift, my gift of words, I give you the gift of my labor. You, the reader, give me a gift, too, a gift that is unstinting. For you, the reader, give me, the writer, the awesome gift of giving. Without your gift, my words would surely languish on the page, A page that sits in a box somewhere until it yellows with age. So I thank you for reading my words, for bringing them to light, For you doing so gives us both a gift, for me one quite bright.

  Haiku - January 29, 2023 It’s dark this morning Little light pierces thick clouds Deer, though, found their corn

  Pain It’s easy to love when all is well, When your loved one is well and giving. When they are in pain, in sickness and pain, You must be the one giving. Pain in your own body is a blessing then, A blessing as a lesson in love. For, in pain, we learn what others endure, In pain we learn compassion.

  Haiku - January 28, 2023 Young boys romp inside Pizza party for grandkids Deer party outside

  Cornucopia The west wind blew the smell of corn to the inhabited wood. Slowly phantom figures assembled in the fading light. Four emerged, then eight. Some large, some small, some antlered. For it was deer that appeared to partake of the feast. A January feast in our backyard. And, on the snow, not a kernel was left.  

  Haiku - January 27, 2023 Corn at the feeder Wind blows its scent to the woods Herd of deer appear

  Haiku - January 26, 2023 Winter has returned There’s many tracks in the snow Food’s harder to find 

  The World We Live In A poet writes his metaphors burning on a page. A glacier melts after ten thousand years, says “Stop the carbon haze.” A real politician speaks volumes with deeds, not just bluster. A wild river enters a city, and loses most of its luster. The poet reads his flaming words; they’re doused with listeners’ tears. A throng of climate-change protesters expresses existential fears. A dictator invades a country, and thinks they’ll quickly surrender. The invasion fails, the world sees him as a power-mad pretender. Mass shootings occur in this country, one after another. Whatever happened to people abiding by the law of love your brother. A peacemaker respectfully gives every man their due. He tells another man, “See me. I, inside, am you.”

  This Food is for the Birds Snow flurries of little substance swirl about in the light breeze. The snowman in the sky has sieved them small, so small they’re hard to see . The sparrows for sure pay it no mind as they chitter and chatter at the feeder. Tiny, but hungry, they eat by the beakful, could eat a horse if they were a bit bigger. An eagle this morning, the king, was enthroned on a branch of his favorite tree. Our herd of deer appeared out of the thickets, of course, looking to feed. Now red birds and woodpeckers have taken their turn, appearing to approve of the menu. All of our forest neighbors, it seems, enjoy our gastronomical venue.   

  Haiku - January 25, 2023 Winter gray and white Then sparks of winter color Cardinals appear

  Haiku - January 24, 2023 Little boy, August, Cries “Grandma, Grandma, help!” as  Grandpa tickles him

  Nature’s Warning I stoke the furnace of the fiery sun to keep the planet from freezing. I twirl the Earth to darken the night to allow for creatures sleeping. I sprinkle stars around the sky, create worlds for doing and dreaming. I blow-up the wind in gusty breaths to cool the planet’s warming. My huge hurricanes of late are very destructive to give mankind a warning. I, Nature, cannot be challenged for you are just part of me,  and when you hurt me, you hurt yourself as well.

  Haiku - January 23, 2023 Sparrow toots his flute Woody’s the rhythm section It’s a winged duet

  A Morning Moment The snow glows blue-white in the pre-dawn light. A tiny figure - a red squirrel - feeds on the cube intended for the deer. Cardinals and sparrows flit at the feeder. The wind holds its breath, the trees happy to rest their limbs.

  The Earth Tilts It’s the reason for the seasons. Toward the sun means summer, Away, winter. Earth does it. Or... Like the old, pinball machine term, When you tilt it, it stops. Man’s misuse of Earth causes epic storms, epic drought. How about 40 degrees and little snow in January Wisconsin? Man does it. What man does must stop, or Earth, as we know it, will tilt.

  Haiku - January 22, 2023 My heart is a drum Good diet and exercise Makes heart-drum beat well

  To Get Love, Get Real A wisp of gray on a gleaming pate A body aged, an old crate Along in years, but the mind’s matured It’s the trade-off for what must be endured The aging process is much like cheese It has to age on the shelf before becoming its true self For cheese, it’s fermentation before tasty maturation For people, it’s learning, emotional maturing For, if you are to survive for seventy years plus five, You will have to be real and not just jive To express emotion and not repress it For stashed anger turns to ulcer - what’s worse - heart failure So say what you mean and mean what you say You will not die if you actually cry Say your sadness, fear, and anger For, if you don’t, yourself you endanger  Instead, process what’s repressed Though difficult, it’s the best For it’s love you’ll find on the other side, The reason we’re on this ride So emote, your life and love to promote 

  Haiku - January 21, 2023 Gus crawls on my lap Cries “Help me, help me, Mommy” Three year-old actor. 

  Winter Wind A thick coat of snow brightens the night, as gusty winds build great dunes of white. Wind makes trees shiver like a swimmer in a river, a swimmer in a river of cold. Animals hole-up wrapped in their fur. warm and safe from the brrr. Faces of people framed in window glass can only stare out at the wintry blast. They think “tomorrow we’ll need to shovel for sure, tomorrow we dig in the brrr,”

  Haiku - January 20, 2023 My eyes blink open Motion light outside is on Raccoon prowls the night

  Making Miracles on the Margins of Love: Three Scenarios He has strings attached, I have to be a certain way. I think he’s a good man, but close friends say I’m a puppet-on-a-string. Love speaks… Those strings of control are really his fears. Be real to him about how you feel. Cut the strings with love and turn them into bows. Love him and watch as in love with you he grows. I’m scared to love, I’ve been hurt before. It was so painful, I don’t want more. I’m a sad soul. Love speaks… It’s normal to be hesitant, even fearful to the bone. Fear, though, shows where we need to grow. Acknowledge it, express it, and let it go. You will find love waiting, love for you alone She always has to be the center of attention. I sure do love her, but I must mention I feel like a fan and not a mate. Love speaks… Give her the attention she seems to crave. Hold her hand and then be brave. Tell her with love that you have needs, too, And it can work best for both her and you To be the best fans ever for

  Haiku - January 19, 2023 Leave the lamp turned off Light pours through all the windows Reflections of snow

  Snow - January 19, 2023 snow snow snow snow snow                                                 snow                                         snow                                 snow                         snow                 snow         snow snow Whooooooooooooooooooooooooosh                  snow                          snow                            snow snow                                                                                                snow         snow                   snow

  Haiku - January 18, 2023 Sun sleeps behind clouds Weather man predicts much snow Winter has returned

  What Love Can Do Fearful, frightful, phobic, frantic. Shudders, shakes, anxious antics. What is all this dither and ‘do? It was my unrequited love for you. Notice “was,” “is” in the past tense. Notice me, present tense, smiling, no longer tense. You invited me into your life. Me, a man once full of strife. You, so loving, became my wife.

  Banana Jam      Write a poem that’s all sound, a babble of word music.                                                                John Drury                                                                “Creating Poetry” Slam, scram, wham, bam We’re going down to Banana Jam Cram the pram, jam the tram We’re going down to Banana Jam Ram the dam, play Sam the Sham We’re going down to Banana Jam We slammed, we scrammed, we whammed, we bammed We crammed, we jammed, we rammed, we shammed The pram was crammed The tram was jammed Ol' Sam was shammed The dam was rammed  So we swam on down to Banana Jam

  Haiku - January 17, 2023 January hike Walked off the trail in the leaves Trail was so icy 

  What I Don’t Know I don’t know what makes wood ticks tick,                     how a horse kicks,                     any high wire circus tricks,                      if I would lick a salt lick. I don’t know the practice of medicine,                     the Mighty Quinn,                     how to make a pin,                     why a five is a fin. I don’t know why grass is green,                     why gas comes from a bean,                     why there is a title of queen,                     how a machine could be mean. I don’t know why roses are red,                     why violets are not,                     why fish have scales,                     why Sheboygan’s famous for brats I don’t know how a cell divides,                     without losing everything inside,                     why a peach has a stone,                     while a jellyfish has no bone. I don’t know how water turns to ice,                     why the plural of louse is lice,                     wha

  Haiku - January 16, 2023 It’s morning sunrise Blue and red in the southeast Masterpiece of sky

  Color Coordinated A rising sun blends orange and red, bathes a green hill in light. A valley of wildflowers sparkle together - pink, yellow, and white. A mountain displays its black and white, soaring to the skies. A world of people - black, brown, yellow, and white - all see the light.  Evolved beyond judgment, they ascend together - a human sunrise.

  Haiku - January 15, 2023 Warm temperatures April in January This is climate change