Monday 19 April 2010

2010-04-20 haiku

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misty starlight
spilling protective silver
on sleeping child


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like a little child
know the black and white
and all its patterns


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shadows
unreal world
light comes


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the child's happiness
depended on being free
to wander alone


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granddad's pocket knife
child carried it everywhere
cried when she lost it

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impermanence
or permanence
both have value


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our wishes come true
but never the way
we are expecting


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she was put in charge
of letter franking machine
letters flew in air


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the fire devoured
old abandoned house
the ghosts now homeless


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the poem
writes
itself


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the poet carries
both the world's sorrows and joys,
which could they part with?


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the quiet spirit
of the gentle woods
whispering your name


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blue skies
cold wind
bright sun


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understanding
all you cannot be
accepting it


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dancer
and dance
are one


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a moth's wings moving
outside my window
I turn my light off


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blue wedgewood pattern
willow tree and stream
a bird flying free


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I tried hard to draw
shadow of my hand, but it
kept moving away


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despite entreaties
wash machine keeps my washing
a well aimed hard kick....


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buddha smiles sweetly
pink camelia blossoms
covering buddha


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the fierce rising sun
burnished a coppery glint
tips of skyline's trees

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pearlescent orange
along horizon
casting a warm glow


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white cascading stream
dancing over moss strewn rocks
with tinkling laughter


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spider spins
skeins out of
own substance


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cat's bell tinkled
just as he's about to jump
for the blackbird


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old gnarled hawthorn tree
cradling crescent moon
rocking her to sleep


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slumber time for me
me and dog are off to bed
lots of dreams we'll have


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bird in cherry tree
saluting the east
as dawn is breaking


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as the sun rises
the blackbird in cherry tree
spreads wings and flies south


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soft roseate hues
spreading 'cross the sky
all is very still


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it's gone very cold
dark clouds obliterate sun
the air rather still


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sky is empty now
no metal birds are flying
nor are feathered ones


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white ghostly pupil
peeps through thinner veil of cloud
and then is wiped out


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sandman thrown a pile
of sand in my weary eyes
dreams are beginning


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2 comments:

  1. I love your writing and am adding you to my blogroll on one of my blogs (my name is zing)so that I don't miss any updates. :-)

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  2. I love all your words, but the ones that really resonate with me are:

    ***
    the poem
    writes
    itself
    ***

    When I try to force it, the words never sound right. Thank you for sharing your poetry! dani

    ReplyDelete