Tag Archives: Haiku 365

Haiku 365: May

#122: 5/4/2015
Eating ice cream straight
from the carton. Keeping it
classy, Buckley-style.

#123: 5/4/2015
Re-painting the fence.
Body gets to be outside,
mind wanders. Win-win.

#124: 5/4/2015
History, symbols,
mythology, and Carl Jung.
Reading addiction!

#125: 5/4/2015
Like the lawnmower,
my mind needs a couple pulls
to start its engine.

#126: 5/5/2015
Night has descended:
whence this dim sunless ghost-light
lingering on high?

#127: 5/6/2015
Slim young apple tree
stands up straight, blossoming pink,
nuzzled by cold fog.

#128: 5/7/2015
Brown leaf on driveway
hunched in its evening shadow
like a surly toad.

#129: 5/9/2015
Focus on haiku.
A helpful wall blocks my view
of dirty dishes.

#130: 5/9/2015
When will the rain come?
How much work before sky-drops
send us scurrying?

#131: 5/10/2015
Morning of yard work,
wearing sunscreen, feeding grass.
Sniff – now I smell green.

#132 – 5/11/2015
The rustling forest
calls at dusk, whispering old
songs, promising charms.

#133: 5/12/2015
The eyes of the wolf
pierce darkness, cleave midnight mist,
apprehend moonlight.

#134: 5/13/2015
A thousand faces
for but a single hero.
Whither his bright blade?

#135: 5/14/2015
Calligraphy needs
steel resolve. Shaky thumbs make
shaky majuscules.

#136: 5/24/2015
Peter’s Neverland,
the looking-glass of Alice:
what realm waits for me?

#137: 5/24/2015
Drifting toward summer,
lazy sunlight and brief nights
welcoming solstice.

#138: 5/24/2015
Eyes of hurricanes,
the Eye of the Sahara.
Earth is watching us.

#139: 5/24/2015
Breathless, unblinking,
frigid angels of the Deep
fear no hook or net.

#140: 5/24/2015
Nickels and a dime
jangle loose in my pocket.
Pipsqueak percussion.

#141: 5/24/2015
Clumsy number eight
could slip on rounded feet, fall,
become infinite.

#142: 5/24/2015
Poets love the moon.
Does it hang in space, august,
judging motley verse?

#143: 5/24/2015
Dear sir or madam:
Do you enjoy short letters?
Sincerely, B. B.

#144: 5/24/2015
Do you make mistakes?
I once vowed to be faultless.
That was a mistake.

#145: 5/24/2015
Deep in the Great Plains,
sea of grass and sea of sky
watch each other dream.

#146: 5/25/2015
Dying smoke alarm,
nestled – where? All day we hunt
that infernal beep.

#147: 5/26/2015
Jealously we guard
our rectangles of trim grass.
Fences loom like walls.

#148: 6/5/2015
Just before midnight:
I’m an isle of consciousness
in a dream-wracked sea.

#149: 6/5/2015
Blind, dark, and heavy,
that was depression. Viscous.
Future’s fluid now.

#150: 6/5/2015
My orange slices
sit on their newly-shed skin
like five plump reptiles.

#151: 6/5/2015
This burned-out light bulb
ought to symbolize something.
Hmm…you work it out.

#152: 6/5/2015
Quoth the raven: “It
might not happen for a while.
But, I mean, who knows?”

Haiku 365: April

#92: 4/1/2015
Never trust the warmth.
Ohio giveth, taketh.
Winter hides, returns.

#93: 4/2/2015
Radishes and cheese.
When you grow up, you can eat
whatever you want.

#94: 4/5/2015
An ode to beets. Ahem:
Somehow this scant root contains
all that I despise.

#95: 4/5/2015
Rabbits arriving,
buds on trees. Evidently,
nature’s wheel has turned.

#96: 4/5/2015
Girl, seven months old,
concerned with toys, noise, and milk,
but not the future.

#97: 4/6/2015
Stories of the day
shared from spouse to spouse: these threads
weave a shared lifetime.

#98: 4/7/2015
Schemes set in motion
gather momentum daily.
Zenith approaches.

#99: 4/8/2015
Lunch at Panera –
sitting with Betsy, watching
rain-soaked people rush.

#100: 4/9/2015
Rain in the morning
and the afternoon. Who keeps
refilling the sky?

#101: 4/10/2015
Chatting and smiling.
Kind woman, pleasant office.
Needle drinks my blood.

#102: 4/11/2015
Errands and coffee,
conversation and sunshine.
Happy Saturday.

#103: 4/12/2015
Starting a new book!
Crisp cream pages, stark fresh ink
conjure a hero.

#104: 4/16/2015
Falling behind! These
haikus are all so tiny,
they slip through the cracks.

#105: 4/16/2015
Birthdays approaching:
wife, friend, and self, all thirty.
Are we grown-ups now?

#106: 4/16/2015
Violence to the grass,
wrought with gasoline and steel,
seems to please the birds.

#107: 4/16/2015
The broad black blanket
of night clouds, snuffing starlight,
settles on the world.

#108: 4/17/2015
Teetotaling perks:
three stiff drops in a shot glass
fly me to the moon.

#109: 4/18/2015
Sun through east window
blares and blinds me, showing off,
then heads up to work.

#110: 4/20/2015
Are you so certain
vast Earth and sky still exist
while you blink your eyes?

#111: 4/20/2015
Wind leans on the tree,
murmuring portents to leaves,
scaring squirrels off.

#112: 4/21/2015
Read the book aloud.
Let the cadences roll out
your throat, rich and raw.

#113: 4/22/2015
Electric light bulbs
lack the sun’s radiance, but
their schedules are free.

#114: 4/23/2015
Look – my old car gleams
silver, seats immaculate.
Faithful, humble, proud.

#115: 4/26/2015
Writers hoard books like
dragons keep gold, sleepy, fierce,
hiding from the sun.

#116: 4/26/2015
Thirty candle flames
puff out; thirty blackened wicks
send up silent smoke.

#117: 4/26/2015
Following sidewalks,
we peer at the mute houses.
What do walls conceal?

#118: 4/30/2015
I trap the spider
in a cup and set it free.
Mercy, or habit?

#119: 4/30/2015
Sullen post-rain clouds
drift overhead, ushering
sunset to the west.

#120: 4/30/2015
In the beginning,
light on the darkness, a word.
Fiat lux. And then?

#121: 4/30/2015
Nearing end of week
and end of month. Cycles and
cycles; the wheel turns.

Haiku 365: March

#60: 3/1/2015
Platefuls of cookies.
One after another – love
soon becomes regret.

#61: 3/3/2015
Sail into knowledge,
sound the trenches of the mind.
Bring me back a map.

#62: 3/3/2015
Early hints of thaw:
fitful melting rivulets
run, and freeze again.

#64: 3/5/2015
Baby carrots, one
after another, leave tracks
in my hummus bowl.

#65: 3/5/2015
Lit-up rectangle
perched low, eager, on my desk,
show me today’s world.

#66: 3/7/2015
Table full of friends,
air full of sound, for a while.
Silence comes again.

#67: 3/7/2015
Driving home at night,
enclosed against a cold world.
Headlights in the dark.

#68: 3/10/2015
Fog crouches between
shadowed tree trunks, drifts across
snow fields, ghost of rain.

#69: 3/10/2015
Dishes clatter, some
clean, some yet to be, caught in
the kitchen’s bustle.

#70: 3/10/2015
Catching up on work:
paying procrastination
back with interest owed.

#71: 3/12/2015
Ten-year-old visits.
Her eyes wide with excitement,
she tells you her life.

#72: 3/12/2015
Cotton candy sun
drifts lazily behind trees,
smearing half the sky.

#73: 3/13/2015
Starting new project:
excitement explodes and soars;
hard work is high bliss.

#74: 3/14/2015
Messages from friends,
family: Happy Pi Day!
When did math get cool?

#75: 3/15/2015
Faithful computer
hums and grumbles and whispers.
Click-clack of the keys.

#76: 3/17/2015
Finishing project:
pleasure, mingled always with
dissatisfaction.

#77: 3/17/2015
Winter has melted.
Shivering grass blades gaze at
their forgotten star.

#78: 3/18/2015
I wrote, did some work,
ate a bagel, kissed Betsy.
This was a good day.

#79: 3/19/2015
Eyelids are sagging.
Such a sedentary day:
how can I be tired?

#80: 3/20/2015
Unhappy stomach,
victim of cupcake excess.
Have I learned nothing?

#81: 3/23/2015
After a green spell
winter reaches out again,
clutching what it lost.

#82: 3/23/2015
Hyphens, em dashes,
minus signs: a street gang of
horizontal lines.

#83: 3/23/2015
Went to bed last night
at four a.m. Got up at
seven-thirty. Zzzzz…

#84: 3/24/2015
Between waking life
and night, the dusky curtain
rustles, sad and gray.

#85: 3/27/2015
Noon drifts casually
by me, marked by a short lunch,
then quietly gone.

#86: 3/27/2015
These strings of letters
pile into words. Careful: you’ll
have a story soon.

#87: 3/27/2015
Trees without their coats
shiver through the birth of spring,
saving up their green.

#88: 3/30/2015
Dial back the years:
hold the photo, search the eyes
of your younger self.

#89: 3/30/2015
Gardens of regret
rotten with bad decisions,
weeds of might-have-beens.

#90: 3/30/2015
Prada hamburger;
bisect sternly atmosphere
minnow crouch descry.

#91: 3/31/2015
Fresh revelations
ascend nightly, luminous,
humming carelessly.

Haiku 365: February

My haikus for February. (The last one says March 1, but I wrote it a day late, so it “belongs” to February.)

January’s haikus are here.

#32: 2/1/2015
Snowflakes congregate
above, huddling, before
downward exodus.

#33: 2/3/2015
Ten icy fingers
while the rest of me is warm.
Seriously, hands?

#34: 2/3/2015
Moon in the branches,
blind eye searching for her mate.
Cardinal calls for dawn.

#35: 2/4/2015
Whitewashed winter sky,
sparkling fields of white below.
In between, my breath.

#36: 2/5/2015
Coffee pot babbles
in the last hour of night,
sighs, and goes to sleep.

#37: 2/6/2015
Some wretched mornings
blossom into sterling days
if I tend them well.

#38: 2/7/2015
Old train tracks cut through
the town like a telegraph
from a harder age.

#39: 2/8/2015
Tired in spirit,
tired in limbs, head, and heart,
still upon the path.

#40: 2/9/2015
Read the signs, dear one.
Auguries and meteors:
something is at hand.

#41: 2/10/2015
Neurons are empty.
Signals flicker back and forth
to no great effect.

#42: 2/11/2015
These gentle rhythms,
day upon day, breakfast, bed,
stretch on year to year.

#43: 2/12/2015
Look out the window.
Framed in proper rectangles,
all the savage world.

#44: 2/13/2015
After the movie,
scenes and songs still flicker on.
Life is epilogue.

#45: 2/14/2015
First sip of cool beer.
Spicy aroma, dark glass,
a toast to winter.

#46: 2/15/2015
Dinner together,
husband and wife on the couch.
Rare steak and brownies.

#47: 2/16/2015
Different kinds of cold:
subtle chill in frosty air,
or bone-biting ice.

#48: 2/17/2015
No one is certain.
Scientists, prophets, teachers.
No one knows for sure.

#49: 2/18/2015
Comfortable inside,
looking out at frigid dark.
Forgot to get mail.

#50: 2/20/2015
Mexican dinner,
friends celebrate the week’s end.
Smell of Corona.

#51: 2/20/2015
The front doorbell rings.
Betsy and I lack nothing;
who upsets our peace?

#52: 2/21/2015
Fog in the darkness,
fellow cars all rushing by.
Where are they headed?

#53: 2/22/2015
Newly painted room
welcomes me with muted hue.
Just one shade of gray.

#54: 2/24/2015
Eating veggie soup,
vibrant garden potpourri.
Someday, winter ends.

#55: 2/24/2015
Squeak! goes the old chair,
not caring if it gets oil,
singing its old song.

#56: 2/26/2015
Talk grammar to me.
Pronoun antecedents, yeah.
Conjugate that verb.

#57: 2/26/2015
Betsy and Brian,
orbiting each other like
new binary stars.

#58: 2/27/2015
Dishwasher chortles,
furnace breathes, dryer rattles.
Evening symphony.

#59: 3/1/2015
End of the weekend,
Sunday blues creep on like fog.
Monday starts anew.

Haiku 365: January

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.