Summoned by thunder tear back the curtains, press close the show will explodes. Heat brings in the haze, draws it from the horizon until the sky cracks. Inking in the days to count up the ones left blank and fill them up too.
Words trickle too fast, floods of imagination; leaves only ink blots.
If I could listen to the ghosts within the mist… I might just go mad. My wardrobe divide does not account for seasons. Cold? Just grin and bare.
I must be clutter finding my way into rooms to watch you shun spring.
You tracked mud footsteps across everything I own. You said “this is spring.” I kept Autumn close, wrote to it with summer words- not that winter knew. Summer surprised us, trust England not to expect sunshine in July.
We never measure the worth of just one rain-drop… just the water gauge.
This is actually the fifth Haiku I’ve written this month. Once again my boyfriend is invading my poetry and making it impossible for me to write anything that isn’t sappy or love related; so hopefully this will get it out of my system for the day. You and I keep score, this romance like grass tennis Ace down centre line.
I am trying to write a Haiku for every day of this month. I wrote Summer Birds on the first day, yesterday I wrote: Leaf mulch and bare bark. Faith went the way of Winter without Spring for hope. and today I have: You’re my thunder dusk following heat clogged daylight. I listen for you. I find writing haikus a little bizarre. Why? I don’t actually know if I like them… Haikus never feel as if they hold enough when I read them of write them. I can find some crackers and think “wow! I really like that!” But it remains the same for the vast majority of haikus, I simply feel that they don’t suit me. So I’m trying to write one every day for a month to see if my opinion changes. How about yourselves? Are there any poetic or prosaic forms that simply stick in your pen? I would be interested to hear if anyone else finds themselves in a similar situation.