Late last year, Mom threw down the gauntlet. A haiku a day, every day, for an entire year. I accepted the challenge, and 2015 is now the Year of the Haiku for both of us.
It’s been a lot of fun so far. Most days I write about something going on that day. Sometimes I miss a day and catch up afterward, but I’ve been pretty good about not falling too far behind.
Disclaimer: as usual, when I say “haiku,” I mean it in the Americanized sense of any poem with 5-7-5 syllables. The original Japanese concept has some additional complexity which I’ve chosen to ignore.
Anyway, here are mine for January.
#1 – 1/1/2015
Turning of the years,
interlocking teeth that drive
what obscure machine?
#2 – 1/3/2015
Rainy winter days,
pattering shingles above.
Prophecies of snow.
#3 – 1/3/2015
Popcorn in a bowl:
milky firecrackers, popped,
huddling saltless.
#4 – 1/4/2015
Memories on the wind
rush through protective jackets,
shivering marrow.
#5 – 1/6/2015
Beacons in the night
marching two by two, on ice,
lead reluctant cars.
#6 – 1/6/2015
Where are you, my ghost?
Lively spirit, my sad bones
tremble without you.
#7 – 1/7/2015
Now pain, now pleasure,
now hearth, now frost, battling:
cycles of the soul.
#8 – 1/9/2015
Bare branches frowning,
relics of a longer day
and a sweeter song.
#9 – 1/9/2015
House is a dragon.
Fires in the basement belly
keep the beast toasty.
#10 – 1/11/2015
Warm weekend blankets
are a minor Paradise,
staving off the day.
#11 – 1/11/2015
Long row of pine trees,
some bent, some proud, some ragged:
soldiers in a line.
#12 – 1/12/2015
Shoveling driveway,
scraping metal on cement,
I make my own warmth.
#13 – 1/13/2015
Phone call, birthday wish –
laughter and a mother’s love
soar through frigid air.
#14 – 1/14/2015
Night winds receding,
all around a brilliant hush:
Sacred crystal dawn.
#15 – 1/15/2015
White cup, black coffee,
morning in microcosm,
stark sun, bitter night.
#16 – 1/16/2015
Cool splash of champagne
washes sizzling on the tongue.
Glasses clink again.
#17 – 1/17/2015
Ready for journey –
clothes packed, toothbrushes, printouts.
All we need are miles.
#18 – 1/18/2015
Giggling baby boy
crawls vast landscapes of carpet.
Less freedom, more free.
#19 – 1/19/2015
Crispness of apple –
crunch! Yellow skin, juice on tongue.
Today I’m alive.
#20 – 1/20/2015
Sudden rush of snow
spills wildly on roads, kids, grass
and as fast retreats.
#21 – 1/22/2015
Click-clack of black keys,
sending mind via fingers.
Neurons, pixels, one.
#22 – 1/22/2015
Velveteen starscape
unfurls lavishly above.
Whose silence is this?
#23 – 1/23/2015
Simple luxuries;
better than a Cadillac:
taking off my shoes.
#24: 1/24/2015
Yawn – sagging eyelids,
slow thoughts limping home to rest.
Feet demand their bed.
#25: 1/25/2015
Morning. Chilly hands.
Hum of furnace, placid air,
omens of the day.
#26: 1/27/2015
Deer in the back yard
leaps over fence light as wind,
snow-dust in her wake.
#27: 1/27/2015
New church parking lot
beside old church; spires and smog,
buttresses and cars.
#28: 1/28/2015
Rivers of lightning
pour from shadows overhead
rushing like desire.
#29: 1/29/2015
Late and still awake,
tangled dreams and might-have-beens
murmur in my skull.
#30: 1/30/2015
Writing a story
spills soul like ink upon page,
illustrates the heart.
#31: 1/31/2015
Meeting your friend’s friends
for the first time: tentative
jokes, novel laughter.
Brian D. Buckley 