Tag Archives: Poems

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

#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.

Haiku for Wednesday

Another photo from a trip to Big Bend several years ago.

Another photo from a trip to Big Bend several years ago.

Rooted in dry rock,
flowerless under cruel sun:
little is enough.


Now Io belches sulfur in its sleep,
Iapetus the two-faced has a ridge;
While Titan hides its Kraken in the deep,
Europa may have microbes in the fridge.
Old Ganymede’s the largest of the brood,
And Luna’s most familiar of them all;
Dark Umbriel’s bright crown improves its mood –
Dione’s just a boring icy ball.
Callisto’s cratered by a billion years,
Phobos is a potato on the run,
While Deimos at its brother gently peers;
Enceladus’s oceans could be fun.
And Charon is our New Horizons’ hope –
And Triton is a backwards cantaloupe.

Haiku for Tuesday

Turning and turning,
drinking in the books and beams.
Who has need of home?

Poem for Wednesday

dead-end, dead-end roads
are the ends of
arteries, the sudden sunderings
of vain veins,
the blushing of blood
fresh-minted in the April air.
whose ending, whose ending
go we all together, bundled
like children altogether, shuddering
with the breeze?

Haiku for Wednesday

How the world lies still!
Nestling secrets, hoarding shade
till the brink of dawn.

Haiku for Wednesday

Can you hear it, child?
Silence invades my eardrums,
roaring like the sea.

Haiku for Tuesday

Susurrating sea,
softly survey stony shores.
Soothe my stormy soul.