waka of budouadana: orbits

The changing seasons –Pink flowers, green fronds, brown leaves,Winter's white silence –Parade as our tilted earthConstantly orbits the sun.(ifn ye wonta make a comment, ye gut to click on 'link' below.)

pitchers tuck by buddy don: bare trees of bryant park

whenever me n miz bd wuz a'cummin home frum that thar orchid show up at the new york botanickull garden, i seen how the lite wuz a'shinin n tuck this here pitcher of them sycamores in bryant park ...(ifn ye wonta make a comment, ye gut to click on 'link' below.)

pitchers tuck by buddy don: tuck durin our trip to jersey city

yesterdy me n miz bd tuck the path train to journal square over in jersey city sos we could git our drivers licents updated ere they eggspired. we had to have forty leven differnt forms of eye-dee incloodin our passports n soshul scurty cards n proof that we live whar we do. but whenever we gut over thar, twuz all over in under fifteen mints! i couldnt hardly bleeve how good they gut it all

feelins of buddy don: ouch

i tuck a day of vacayshun today sos i could stay up way past my bed time to watch them vol mens bball team play agin loovull. i wuz really hopin we could finely beat a rick pitinos team after loozin 13 strate or even make it to the elite eight! i reckun ye dun know how it turnt out: 79-60, cardnulls.ouch!(ifn ye wonta make a comment, ye gut to click on 'link' below.)

pitchers tuck by buddy don: refleckshuns of hoboken

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pitchers tuck by buddy don: strollin n trollin in man hattan

i have bin meanin to anser a comment buck made a while back whenever i posted a pitcher of a wooden injun n menchunned how i wuz sprized to find such thangs on the streets of man hattan. as always, he asts a purty good questchun that leads ye to thank a bit moren ye mite otherwise:Reminds me of that Seinfeld episode.But you know, I have never known what it is that is offensive about wooden

pomes of buddy don: So?

They called the "escalation" just a "surge,"Since many can remember that grim wordFrom Viet Nam, where "escalation's" dirgeWas often all that we the people heard.They would not let us see returning dead,Since that might make us think the war had costToo much when what they needed was, instead,A fairy tale where our wars can't be lost.They would not budget for the cost of warSince that might mean

pitchers tuck by buddy don: signs of sprang

used to be fall wuz my favert season, but lately it has mint the beginnin of migraine season, so now my favert is sprang. we tuck a walk round town tuther day n seen signs of sprang most everwhar, witch heres a cuple pitchers i tuck to proov it ...(ifn ye wonta make a comment, ye gut to click on 'link' below.)

pitchers tuck by buddy don: nite n day

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pomes of buddy don: Not Much

No MuchIt’s five years on and what have we achieved?For great and grand are our accomplishments!The weapons that weren’t there were sure perceivedAnd that they weren’t was pure coincidence!And though Osama and Saddam were foes,With one religious, one a worldly man,We’ve beaten one down to his own last throes —The other? Well, we’ll catch him when we can.What matters is we spread democracy —A

pinions of buddy don: grate cause

i gut thisn frum my good frien thinking meat. i caint putt it no bettern meat fer brains dun dun:Award-winning author Pat Cadigan has started the “Match It for Pratchett” campaign, honoring Terry Pratchett. Pratchett, the author of the popular Discworld novels, recently announced that he has been diagnosed with early-onset Alzheimer’s disease. He has donated £500,000 (roughly $1 million) to

waka of budouadana: pages

ConfidenceThe child’s confidence,Like a newly budding sproutPlanted in rich soil,Gives courage to the timid,And hope to the dejected.PotionA magic potionIn a cup borne by a youth:Such is one’s first love,An intoxicating brewOf hope, fear, intimacy.KnotThe child had no doubtsAs he used his sharp daggerTo sever the knotsOf worldly difficulties,Cutting each to useful lengths.RiskThe trusting young

waka of budouadana: tens

StruggleHis heavy burden,A harvest of ten long poles,More than he can heftWhile seeing his way forward,Wears him down with hard struggle.ReunionThe happy parentsView the family reunionAmid such bounty,Places set for each of tenAs all return home in joy.VictimPlaying the martyr?Or could he be the victim?Ten blades in his back,To prove he’s been betrayed,With knives as dear as jewels.InvestorWith

waka of budouadana: nines

CrutchesBattered, bruised, unbowed,The man leans against his crutch,Surveying his yield:Eight crutches from prior trials,Hard proofs one must be wary.WishesNine cups of wishes,Arrayed behind the winnerLike sweet dreams come true,Accomplishments completed,Provide passing contentment.TrophiesThe fears of the night,Regrets for what might have been,Shine like nine sharp swords,Painful trophies she

mizry of buddy don: a short reeport

me n miz bd seen the weather changer a'cummin on us, witch it hit on sundy as skeduled. i wuz on the fone to mama whenever i gut to whar i couldnt make the wurds i wuz trine to say cum out of my mouth or even git into it, witch thats sumthin name of aphasia that is a precursor i git ever now n agin.i bin havin migraines since, each day a'gittin a lil wurser till yesterdy i couldnt hardly stop

waka of budouadana: eights

StrikeEight arrows arcingAcross the sky, their targetsAlready settled,A coordinated strikeThat allows no turning back.EndsEverything must end,The happy circle of friends,The team of workers,Its final task completed,Each of its eight cups drained dry.BoundBlindfolded and bound,In a jail of eight sharp swords,Feeling powerless,The young woman first acceptsThen overcomes her troubles.FlowSix wheels

pitchers tuck by buddy don: thangs that make me feel sick

aint we past time when we gut wooden injuns in man hattan? i wood say it makes me sick ceptn everthang duz rite now on a counta i gut a migraine makin me wonta vomit, witch i know i orta try not to, but ...(ifn ye wonta make a comment, ye gut to click on 'link' below.)

pitchers tuck by buddy don: wise man

tiz a day of pane fer me on a counta migraine weather than cum in yesterdy. leaves me wishin i could be as placid as this feller ... (my hed feels bout that big n bout to burst) ...(ifn ye wonta make a comment, ye gut to click on 'link' below.)

waka of budouadana: sevens

StandOne man versus six,He makes his hilltop stand,Bravely facing thoseWho would supplant him by force,His staff no better than theirs.OptionsEach of seven flasksHolds a unique heady brew,A different futureIn each dreamy concoction:Paralysis of options.OutsiderThe outsider leavesThe parade of daily life,Briefly looking back,Bearing seven silver swordsAs if he could defeat death.BlessingsThe

pitchers tuck by buddy don: frum a toy store

this past weekend, we wuz lucky a nuff to git a visit frum my niece n her husbin, witch they wuz in town sos he could have a innervue over at f.i.t. fer a spot in thar progrum fer toy deevelopers. hes about to git his batchler of fine arts degree n wonts to wurk in that field, witch thay aint no better place to doot than f.i.t. as ye kin planely see, they gut art rite in frunt of the place:so

waka of budoudana: sixes

WinnerThe winner parades,Colorful standard raised high,Leading his armyAnd six flag-bearing champions,Knowing glory fades quickly.InnocenceChildren with their bowls,None of them identical,Play their made up games,Six innocent hungry lambsSharing faith they will be fed.RenewalTwo hooded figuresTheir boat laden with six swords,Cross a murky swampThat mirrors their strained spirits,Renewal on the

pitchers tuck by buddy don: ladies in man hattan

bad news on the phone?almos lack a nuther amurkin gothick ...eatin ice cream on a verr cold day ...(ifn ye wonta make a comment, ye gut to click on 'link' below.)

waka of budouadana: tuther three fives

RegretThree great beakers down,Their brew spilled on thirsty earth,Their owner suffers,Feeling only sharp regret,Blind to the two that remain.MiserStopping at nothingTo get his way, the miserCuts off all his friends,Desiring only profit,Claiming five swords, needing one.BeggarsWith but five pennies,Two beggars, one lame, both starved,Wander through harsh snow,Painfully aware of thoseFeasting

waka of budouadana: truth

Ascending the mountain,One’s trail does not always go upBut must dip downwardsTo meet the next, longer rise:So, too, paths leading to truth.(ifn ye wonta make a comment, ye gut to click on 'link' below.)

waka of budouadana: Contention

Petty contention –Five-man free-for-all with sticksJabbing and jousting –No rules, winners, or losers,Only blind competition.(ifn ye wonta make a comment, ye gut to click on 'link' below.)