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Literature Text
31st---
sun glare -
every last drop gone
from the bowl
30th---
orchids fade
in the evening gloom
gibbous moon
29th---
night stroll
through the rain
the sound of rain
28th---
returning sun -
the crow's caw also
turns to gold
27th---
movement of air -
leaves shed a slew
of the morning's rain
26th---
no war here -
vapour flits over
a mug of tea
25th---
budleias sway
by the church voices whisper
of her strained marriage
24th---
tidal mist
a stone the shape of
an arrowhead
23rd---
unfolding the tissue
a butterfly
made of snot
22nd---
rain presses down these burdened bones
21st---
out at sea
a wave strokes past
the lone buoy
20th---
still mind
old leaves taken
on a wind
19th---
shadows passing
now and then my face
in the window
18th---
a crow's caw
lost
in the rain
17th---
deep breath
the honeysuckle's scent
a little longer
16th---
wayside break
shade in the tracks
of the tyre
15th---
texting
for a moment
the screen's reflections
14th---
one star to the next
freewheeling
on the downhill stretch
13th---
workman's tune
each beat sticks
in the plaster
12th---
catching the train
the press of your lips
on my mind
11th---
night crossing
the ferry's sway
in my stomach
10th---
a gate slams
the air
just before rain
9th----
soft breeze
the flow of conversation
between strangers
8th----
night heat
wherever I go
my pulse
(featured in Blithe Spirit Vol. 19, No.3: September 2009)
7th----
lunch
slowing down
to the speed of clouds
6th----
my shadow
as long as
there is no shade
5th----
rising steam
again it slips through
the chopsticks
4th----
leaves
in the cloudburst
the warmth of her scent
3rd----
a flip-flop squeaks on noon heat
2nd----
a bike-wheel turning
the blue curve
of the earth
1st----
warm wind
in the wildflowers
the butterfly's slow flaps
sun glare -
every last drop gone
from the bowl
30th---
orchids fade
in the evening gloom
gibbous moon
29th---
night stroll
through the rain
the sound of rain
28th---
returning sun -
the crow's caw also
turns to gold
27th---
movement of air -
leaves shed a slew
of the morning's rain
26th---
no war here -
vapour flits over
a mug of tea
25th---
budleias sway
by the church voices whisper
of her strained marriage
24th---
tidal mist
a stone the shape of
an arrowhead
23rd---
unfolding the tissue
a butterfly
made of snot
22nd---
rain presses down these burdened bones
21st---
out at sea
a wave strokes past
the lone buoy
20th---
still mind
old leaves taken
on a wind
19th---
shadows passing
now and then my face
in the window
18th---
a crow's caw
lost
in the rain
17th---
deep breath
the honeysuckle's scent
a little longer
16th---
wayside break
shade in the tracks
of the tyre
15th---
texting
for a moment
the screen's reflections
14th---
one star to the next
freewheeling
on the downhill stretch
13th---
workman's tune
each beat sticks
in the plaster
12th---
catching the train
the press of your lips
on my mind
11th---
night crossing
the ferry's sway
in my stomach
10th---
a gate slams
the air
just before rain
9th----
soft breeze
the flow of conversation
between strangers
8th----
night heat
wherever I go
my pulse
(featured in Blithe Spirit Vol. 19, No.3: September 2009)
7th----
lunch
slowing down
to the speed of clouds
6th----
my shadow
as long as
there is no shade
5th----
rising steam
again it slips through
the chopsticks
4th----
leaves
in the cloudburst
the warmth of her scent
3rd----
a flip-flop squeaks on noon heat
2nd----
a bike-wheel turning
the blue curve
of the earth
1st----
warm wind
in the wildflowers
the butterfly's slow flaps
Literature
Bipolar
I.
A dove into a mirror;
A crow into a tree.
II.
There is a word missing.
Literature
Rooibos
If under mulch she sang a rotten
wood-like note with quiver
Nostalgic for her days alive
Surely they could forgive her
Most days it's quiet (these days it's cold)
Her bones observe the soil
But Spring is pulsing warm and gold
Teasing memories to boil
Like heated milk the liquid smell
of evening drips in branches
A honeybee who suffocates
falls near her musing ashes
"Is it wine or light strawberry?"
She asks him of the sky
Though his dead ears don't hear her query
The answer is "Like dye"
Just under mulch I hear a rotten
wood-like note with quiver
Flushing young in days alive
Of course I can f
Literature
the living is easy
a tin man, white sheep rolled in dust
wears a grin, swisher sweets clinging
to his lip. he swirls seagrams 7 in a cracked
lowball, painting the side of my grandmother's
house with one eye closed & the other
laughing. he cannot speak the language
so i stare at him instead, his penny
loafers, his peeling skin, his snowy hair.
so i stare at his photograph on
the fireplace, wondering how anyone
who loved my great grandmother so well
could have died before i was born.
Suggested Collections
The July Haikuthon has begun...
Best of luck to everyone!
3rd: if you don't know what a flip-flop is see here: [link]
10/7/09: sorry, busy few days right now but will be back to commenting soon.
21/7/09: this haiku has a syllable structure of 3,4,3 in British English, but 3,4,4 in American English as I understand it. In British the word "buoy" is pronounced "boy" but I gather in American it is pronounced "boo-ee". Interesting to run into an English word where the syllable count is different by pronounciation despite being in the same language... not that syllable count matters that much, but the rhythm will be slightly different depending on who reads it.
16/7/09: "tyre" is the English spelling for "tire" just to let you know.
Number 8 has been selected to appear in Blithe Spirit, journal of the British Haiku Society, September 2009.
Best of luck to everyone!
3rd: if you don't know what a flip-flop is see here: [link]
10/7/09: sorry, busy few days right now but will be back to commenting soon.
21/7/09: this haiku has a syllable structure of 3,4,3 in British English, but 3,4,4 in American English as I understand it. In British the word "buoy" is pronounced "boy" but I gather in American it is pronounced "boo-ee". Interesting to run into an English word where the syllable count is different by pronounciation despite being in the same language... not that syllable count matters that much, but the rhythm will be slightly different depending on who reads it.
16/7/09: "tyre" is the English spelling for "tire" just to let you know.
Number 8 has been selected to appear in Blithe Spirit, journal of the British Haiku Society, September 2009.
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Comments231
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I love this,still learning what Haiku is.Interesting !!!