Tuesday, November 25, 2014

Stepping Into The Unknown

(A Haiku Duo)
By Jim Rapp

If the path were known,
its hazards and all, I might
have delayed my start,

thus arriving late;
missing the connection for
a journey of joy.



 

Sunday, November 16, 2014

A Friendship Remembered

by Jim Rapp 

Friendship,
if only just the memory of it,
lends its
warm patina to a life thus lit.
 

Friday, November 14, 2014

Weekend Fare

by Jim Rapp 

It is Friday afternoon;
We’ve watched the early evening news.
It always seems as soon
as news is done the networks choose
to play a weekend "tune"
in which the looming crises lose
their urgency; a boon,
I guess, to marketers of booze,
and sports and Looney Tunes.

Thursday, November 13, 2014

Body Lovers


Jim Rapp

Body lovers make good friends;
     they overlook the body’s "faults"
                because they love what is within.

 Body lovers have no list of faults;
          each bulge and blight, bespeaking friend,
                 becomes a treasure for love's vaults.

Sunday, November 9, 2014

Substantial Evidence


(Haiku Structure)
by Jim Rapp

The substance of things
hoped for, the evidence of
things not visible (Heb. 11:1)

Substance can be felt;
evidence requires a sense
beyond retinal.

When you eat this bread
your hands recall the body,
lifted from the cross,

laid warm in the tomb,
the substance of things hoped for –
desperately hoped for.

When you lift the cup
remembering the blood shed –
ruthlessly wrung out

faith alone ignites
the hope unfathomable;
evidence enough

Thursday, November 6, 2014

Things Missed and Things Missed

by Jim Rapp 

Some things are missed
            a fault of
            auditory failure
Some things are missed
            because their
            essence always lingers 

The preacher's softly
            urgent words
            of admonition
A child's babbled
            silly-serious
            inarticulation 

The comic's denouement
            a quick and muted
            twist of wit
A shower's rapprochement
            with a roof
            that's loving it 

The weather person's
            hurried need
            to say it all
A wind gust driven
            turgid against
            the north side wall 

The grind of traffic's
            engines in the
            street below
A blind benefic
            rumble with a
            storm in tow 

The breathy secret
            that implies the
            meeting is ad hoc
A consistent fret
            of ticking by the
            ancient windup clock 

Some things are missed
            a fault of
            auditory failure
Some things are missed
            because their
            essence always lingers

Tuesday, November 4, 2014

Working the Night Shift

by Jim Rapp
 I hear talk of multi-tasking,
younger minds, adept, and quick
are good at it, contrasting
with old skulls grown thick.

But I have learned that even I,
as ancient as I have become
can stand my ground, even vie
with youth’s quick metronome.

I’ve learned to work while sleeping!
Hah! Give that a try, you Punks.
I’ve typed five pages without peeping,
All perfect z’s; a grand slam-dunk.

Sunday, November 2, 2014

Who Is My Friend

Jim Rapp

He was my neighbor
Though I was not his neighbor
I . . . invisible

I was her neighbor
Though she was not my neighbor
She . . . beyond the pale

Which is my neighbor
She who names me her friend or
He whom I name friend