Tag Archives: Haiku

I couldn’t write anything good last night because cats. So here are some silly 3/5/3 haikus I was playing around with.

 


 

Birthday cake

Candle porcupine

We love you.

 


Gorilla

Can’t fit into pants

Man or beast?

 


Dog flaps ears

Animals do talk

We are deaf

 


Hostess frowns

Looks askance at me

I farted.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


 

 

 

Haibun – Winter Maneuver

 

Winter  attempts an advance against fall. To one side of the road, a cold snowscape of white-laced grass, two-tone evergreens, ancient gnarled branches softly pillowed with marshmallow, a study in black and white. To the other, fresh grass scattered with the discards of the glowy orange maple, the radiant yellow fingers of the gumball tree, the startling neon red of the burning bushes. Winter is gaining ground against the bounteous color, blotting out the many-hued lawns with pure white primer, heaping icing on the trees’ heads. The trees, still warm and flexible, shake the wet snow from their glorious manes, spattering sidewalk and pedestrian alike with gobs of slush. Dripping sounds off from all sides, in full stereo. Splat. Splat-splat. It was not the sky, but the trees which rained.

 

Ever she dances

Nature’s unconscious graces

Embrace all conflict

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


 

 

 

Haiku – Blacksnakes

I had to comb through a lot of old FB posts to find this one! I probably could have rewritten it in that time…


 

 

Blacksnakes are oilslicks
Inky trails that slip uphill
And silently fade

 

 

 


 

Also, here is something random, but writer-related, which never fails to amuse me. Some writing tips can be gleaned from it. All I can say is, I’m glad Mark Twain isn’t around to review my book. Or maybe I wish he was. How could I get mad at someone this hilarious?

http://twain.lib.virginia.edu/projects/rissetto/offense.html

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


 

 

Night River

I’m learning so much from the WordPress community.  I just found out there’s a beautiful form which blends prose and haiku, called haibun. Naturally I had to give it a try. Here goes.

 

 

Night River

 

There is stillness on top of the water, though it swirls and currents underneath. The river is quiet and deep in the cooling summer night, the world in black and white.

My sister says that underneath the darkness swim a multitude of carp battling for survival, pushing out the native fish with their incessant hunger, rapid reproduction, excessive growth. But can a stillness so deep really house this dramatic abundance? How can so much life be unseen, unheard? They do not sing their vitality like land creatures.

 

Warm river surface

Reflects a perfect full moon

A ripple twitches

 

Two men have lines running into the heart of the black water. One of them has pulled a gar onto shore and extracted the hook. He doesn’t want it. He rolls it toward the water, loathe to touch it any more than necessary. It comes to rest on its back, long pale belly toward the sky, little flat fins like a baby shark. It wriggles slowly, blind and mute, struggling its way down across the gray wet clay toward the water. It stops short, its body too heavy to move, eyes unable to blink against the dry bright moonlight, simple mind utterly overwhelmed. The man pokes it again with his foot, its instinctive defenses are nothing here in the light air, it can only writhe in an empty hopeless way. We all want it to go back but we can’t bring ourselves to touch its mucousy skin. There is a smell to the river (does the water smell like fish or do the fish smell like water?). It is ameobal, the smell of primordial soup, algae, microscopic life, placenta.

 

Alienated

The water won’t keep us now

She has new children

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