harvest party
remnants of a tropical storm
for dessert
harvest party
cold ratatouille
on pita
harvest party
the steady drone
of the bees
harvest party
a mixed bouquet of friends
on the deck
harvest party
she hides a yawn
behind her hand
harvest party
she dances seductively
with her shadow
harvest party
the leaves whisper
as they fall
harvest party
the dahlias a bit
past their prime
harvest party
thin clouds move across
the sun
harvest party
a shriek of laughter
from the pool
12 September 2009
Tuesday, July 31, 2012
Monday, July 30, 2012
haiku retrospective cdviii
september heat
the boy swings slowly,
one hand on the chain
11 September 2009
indian summer
the plodding notes
of the piano student
11 September 2009
autumn sunset
his widow pushes
the empty wheelchair
12 September 2009
the boy swings slowly,
one hand on the chain
11 September 2009
indian summer
the plodding notes
of the piano student
11 September 2009
autumn sunset
his widow pushes
the empty wheelchair
12 September 2009
Sunday, July 29, 2012
haiku retrospective cdvii
Another daily haiku exercise
heat wave --
ice cream piled high
in her cart
heat wave --
the knife pierces the skin
of the cucumber
heat wave --
the soft slow chatter
of the scrub birds
heat wave --
the woodcutter sings
a beach boys tune
heat wave --
a little pinkish water all that's left
of the raspberries
heat wave --
staccato whispers as they wrap
birthday presents
heat wave --
firewood stacked neatly
in the drive
heat wave --
the swings in the playground
so still
heat wave --
the sudden thump of his fist
against the desk
heat wave --
another day on a rock sailing
through space
10 September 2009
heat wave --
ice cream piled high
in her cart
heat wave --
the knife pierces the skin
of the cucumber
heat wave --
the soft slow chatter
of the scrub birds
heat wave --
the woodcutter sings
a beach boys tune
heat wave --
a little pinkish water all that's left
of the raspberries
heat wave --
staccato whispers as they wrap
birthday presents
heat wave --
firewood stacked neatly
in the drive
heat wave --
the swings in the playground
so still
heat wave --
the sudden thump of his fist
against the desk
heat wave --
another day on a rock sailing
through space
10 September 2009
Saturday, July 28, 2012
haiku retrospective cdvi
tongues of flame --
his steady gaze draws me
closer
8 September 2009
morning light
his lips wake slowly
against mine
8 September 2009
morning routine
her hips move wildly
on the dance floor
11 September 2009
his steady gaze draws me
closer
8 September 2009
morning light
his lips wake slowly
against mine
8 September 2009
morning routine
her hips move wildly
on the dance floor
11 September 2009
Friday, July 27, 2012
haiku retrospective cdv
Can I make this one right?
wildfire --
forehead against the dashboard
she weeps
Or should it be?
she weeps
forehead against the dashboard --
wildfire
weeping
forehead against the dashboard --
fire season
another wildfire --
she weeps, her forehead pressed
against the dashboard
forehead
against the dashboard
she weeps
I can't seem to get rid of the inversion and keep "forehead against the dashboard," which is the image on which the haiku is based.
wildfire --
she presses her forehead hard
against the dashboard
And no, she's not weeping because of the wildfire.
3 September 2009
wildfire --
forehead against the dashboard
she weeps
Or should it be?
she weeps
forehead against the dashboard --
wildfire
weeping
forehead against the dashboard --
fire season
another wildfire --
she weeps, her forehead pressed
against the dashboard
forehead
against the dashboard
she weeps
I can't seem to get rid of the inversion and keep "forehead against the dashboard," which is the image on which the haiku is based.
wildfire --
she presses her forehead hard
against the dashboard
And no, she's not weeping because of the wildfire.
3 September 2009
Thursday, July 26, 2012
haiku retrospective cdiv
sawdust in the sun
three staccato barks
from the black poodle
24 June 2009
cottonwood shade
she pulls the stinger out
of a dirty foot
12 August 2009
ripsaws cooling --
the vintage logger chugs
a long-necked beer
4 September 2009
three staccato barks
from the black poodle
24 June 2009
cottonwood shade
she pulls the stinger out
of a dirty foot
12 August 2009
ripsaws cooling --
the vintage logger chugs
a long-necked beer
4 September 2009
Wednesday, July 25, 2012
haiku retrospective cdiii
haloed moon--
the stiff beach plants huddle
against the dunes
6 January 2009
january laundry--
the dainty bess rose spreads
its pink petals
8 January 2009
river dance
the willows kick up
their petticoats
24 June 2009
the stiff beach plants huddle
against the dunes
6 January 2009
january laundry--
the dainty bess rose spreads
its pink petals
8 January 2009
river dance
the willows kick up
their petticoats
24 June 2009
Tuesday, July 24, 2012
haiku retrospective cdii
gift wrap counter--
a woman dressed up
for a funeral
24 December 2007
december clouds--
unspoken words fill
his eyes
28 December 2007
autumn leaves--
ravens feed
on a dead skunk
8 October 2008
a woman dressed up
for a funeral
24 December 2007
december clouds--
unspoken words fill
his eyes
28 December 2007
autumn leaves--
ravens feed
on a dead skunk
8 October 2008
Monday, July 23, 2012
haiku retrospective cdi
windblown clouds
the late movie crowd drifts
past the darkened shops
15 April 2007
humid morning
another piece of the pirate ship
snaps into place
5 June 2007
yellowing grass
a line of new fence posts
beside the old fence
5 June 2007
the late movie crowd drifts
past the darkened shops
15 April 2007
humid morning
another piece of the pirate ship
snaps into place
5 June 2007
yellowing grass
a line of new fence posts
beside the old fence
5 June 2007
Sunday, July 22, 2012
haiku retrospective cd
Hello anyone who has followed this blog this far.
Today is the 400th post in the haiku retrospective series that I started in January 2011 and expected to last for a few months.
Obviously, I have written a lot more haiku than I believed I had.
It seems fitting to mark this occasion with a time when I did Tim Russell's haiku exercise. You put a short seasonal reference in line 1, and then jot down a series of observations to serve as line 2. Repeat until you have 10 haiku.
Put the haiku in a drawer and do the exercise again tomorrow.
march flies
the knot hole
in the stair rail
march flies
an empty circle of chairs
on the porch
march flies
a cello sonata drifts
through the dusk
march flies
the repeated thud
of an axe
march flies
a trail of golden sap
on the tree trunk
march flies
the rustle of a Stellar's jay
in the live oak
march flies
spanish moss hangs
from the tree limbs
march flies
the young tanoak
so still
march flies
the scolding of the jays
across the canyon
march flies
the soft heads
of last year's velvet grass
march flies
jesse comes up the trail
with a sledgehammer
17 March 2007
Today is the 400th post in the haiku retrospective series that I started in January 2011 and expected to last for a few months.
Obviously, I have written a lot more haiku than I believed I had.
It seems fitting to mark this occasion with a time when I did Tim Russell's haiku exercise. You put a short seasonal reference in line 1, and then jot down a series of observations to serve as line 2. Repeat until you have 10 haiku.
Put the haiku in a drawer and do the exercise again tomorrow.
march flies
the knot hole
in the stair rail
march flies
an empty circle of chairs
on the porch
march flies
a cello sonata drifts
through the dusk
march flies
the repeated thud
of an axe
march flies
a trail of golden sap
on the tree trunk
march flies
the rustle of a Stellar's jay
in the live oak
march flies
spanish moss hangs
from the tree limbs
march flies
the young tanoak
so still
march flies
the scolding of the jays
across the canyon
march flies
the soft heads
of last year's velvet grass
march flies
jesse comes up the trail
with a sledgehammer
17 March 2007
Saturday, July 21, 2012
haiku retrospective cccxcix
march sunshine
drops of sap
on the old stump
march sunshine
the drone of horse flies
in the trees
march sunshine
the distant call
of a robin
march sunshine
the tap-tap-tapping
of an acorn woodpecker
march sunshine
spiderwebs all the way up
the redwood's trunk
march sunshine
tender red shoots
on the scrub oak
march sunshine
the fiddle tune climbs
the mountain
march sunshine
spanish moss
on the fallen oak branch
march sunshine
the treetops so still
against the blue sky
march sunshine
crushed petals
under the tulip tree
17 March 2007
drops of sap
on the old stump
march sunshine
the drone of horse flies
in the trees
march sunshine
the distant call
of a robin
march sunshine
the tap-tap-tapping
of an acorn woodpecker
march sunshine
spiderwebs all the way up
the redwood's trunk
march sunshine
tender red shoots
on the scrub oak
march sunshine
the fiddle tune climbs
the mountain
march sunshine
spanish moss
on the fallen oak branch
march sunshine
the treetops so still
against the blue sky
march sunshine
crushed petals
under the tulip tree
17 March 2007
Friday, July 20, 2012
haiku retrospective cccxcviii
windblown poppies
a black poodle prances
into the party
14 April 2007
spring rain
a potted calla lily
in the garden bed
14 April 2007
seabird cries --
the small boy scratches
his sunburnt nose
15 May 2007
a black poodle prances
into the party
14 April 2007
spring rain
a potted calla lily
in the garden bed
14 April 2007
seabird cries --
the small boy scratches
his sunburnt nose
15 May 2007
Thursday, July 19, 2012
haiku retrospective cccxcvii
black ice --
the oncology report
in dad's hands
black ice --
dad's lymphocyte count
in stark blue ink
black ice --
dad's blood test results
on the passenger seat
black ice --
mom takes dad's test results
with trembling hands
black ice --
dad's voice wavers as he tells me
he's dying
“Black ice” is a good strong image that resonates deeply for me right now.
I've struggled at times with wanting to get medical terminology into haiku but finding the words too long to fit. Sometimes it feels appropriate to stretch the form a bit to get the exact word in. Words like “oncology report” or “carcinoma” have a lot of emotional resonance, and lesser words sometimes won't carry that freight.
winter sea --
my dad tells me he feels great peace
during radiation
23 January 2007
the oncology report
in dad's hands
black ice --
dad's lymphocyte count
in stark blue ink
black ice --
dad's blood test results
on the passenger seat
black ice --
mom takes dad's test results
with trembling hands
black ice --
dad's voice wavers as he tells me
he's dying
“Black ice” is a good strong image that resonates deeply for me right now.
I've struggled at times with wanting to get medical terminology into haiku but finding the words too long to fit. Sometimes it feels appropriate to stretch the form a bit to get the exact word in. Words like “oncology report” or “carcinoma” have a lot of emotional resonance, and lesser words sometimes won't carry that freight.
winter sea --
my dad tells me he feels great peace
during radiation
23 January 2007
Wednesday, July 18, 2012
haiku retrospective cccxcvi
frosty morning --
another child starts in
with whooping cough
22 January 2007
hunger moon
another entry
in her diet journal
5 February 2007
easter photos
the freshly brushed poodle
rolls in the grass
13 April 2007
another child starts in
with whooping cough
22 January 2007
hunger moon
another entry
in her diet journal
5 February 2007
easter photos
the freshly brushed poodle
rolls in the grass
13 April 2007
Tuesday, July 17, 2012
haiku retrospective cccxcv
winter twilight--
a crumpled pile of handkerchiefs
by his chair
21 January 2007
black ice--
dad's last radiation
treatment
21 January 2007
wind-rattled leaves--
the dog wags his tail
at the door
21 January 2007
a crumpled pile of handkerchiefs
by his chair
21 January 2007
black ice--
dad's last radiation
treatment
21 January 2007
wind-rattled leaves--
the dog wags his tail
at the door
21 January 2007
Monday, July 16, 2012
haiku retrospective cccxciv
november calm
he casts his fishing lure deep
in the outfield grass
first frost
the reflection of my nose
in my tea cup
lingering leaves
the man with einstein hair
zips his jacket
starting over
a pan of burnt rice
in the sink
4 December 2006
he casts his fishing lure deep
in the outfield grass
first frost
the reflection of my nose
in my tea cup
lingering leaves
the man with einstein hair
zips his jacket
starting over
a pan of burnt rice
in the sink
4 December 2006
Sunday, July 15, 2012
haiku retrospective cccxciii
mountain cabin --
the voices of people hidden
by the night
8 September 2006
amaryllis in bloom --
he plays the same two measures
over and over
13 September 2006
indian summer --
an unsealed letter
on the table
13 September 2006
the voices of people hidden
by the night
8 September 2006
amaryllis in bloom --
he plays the same two measures
over and over
13 September 2006
indian summer --
an unsealed letter
on the table
13 September 2006
Saturday, July 14, 2012
haiku retrospective cccxcii
dry heat --
a faint scent of jasmine
from the balcony
17 August 2006
august twilight --
their moving van crosses
the bridge
17 August 2006
distant thunder --
a volley of green walnuts
from the tree fort
23 August 2006
a faint scent of jasmine
from the balcony
17 August 2006
august twilight --
their moving van crosses
the bridge
17 August 2006
distant thunder --
a volley of green walnuts
from the tree fort
23 August 2006
Friday, July 13, 2012
haiku retrospective cccxci
fog glare --
the sweep of the string mop
on the wood floor
16 August 2006
august heat --
the boy holds a wine glass
full of cherry cider
16 August 2006
fossil hunt --
a crawdad scuttles
along the river bottom
16 August 2006
the sweep of the string mop
on the wood floor
16 August 2006
august heat --
the boy holds a wine glass
full of cherry cider
16 August 2006
fossil hunt --
a crawdad scuttles
along the river bottom
16 August 2006
Thursday, July 12, 2012
haiku retrospective cccxc
104 in the shade --
the dog twists round to face
the other direction
24 July 2006
august dusk --
a mountain lion rests
in the playground
16 August 2006
summer fog --
two boys swing sticks
through the ivy
16 August 2006
the dog twists round to face
the other direction
24 July 2006
august dusk --
a mountain lion rests
in the playground
16 August 2006
summer fog --
two boys swing sticks
through the ivy
16 August 2006
Wednesday, July 11, 2012
haiku retrospective ccclxxxix
still june night --
a truck rumbles slowly
up the road
30 June 2006
first light --
baby stellers jays screech
for their breakfast
30 June 2006
night on the town --
the scent of mackerel
on the fog
12 July 2006
a truck rumbles slowly
up the road
30 June 2006
first light --
baby stellers jays screech
for their breakfast
30 June 2006
night on the town --
the scent of mackerel
on the fog
12 July 2006
Tuesday, July 10, 2012
haiku retrospective ccclxxxviii
hot afternoon --
the baby's head lolls
against your breast
19 June 2006
heat wave --
poison hemlock among the prize dahlias
20 June 2006
morning sun --
a call from the hospital
where he's dying
30 June 2006
the baby's head lolls
against your breast
19 June 2006
heat wave --
poison hemlock among the prize dahlias
20 June 2006
morning sun --
a call from the hospital
where he's dying
30 June 2006
Sunday, July 1, 2012
hiku retrospective ccclxxxvii
summer haze --
he sprawls in the chair with his socks
in his lap
31 May 2006
june --
april and may march
with julia's august father
h(reluctant to sign this one)mm
5 June 2006
rose's june --
april and julia may march forth
with august september strides
h(why be hung for a lamb?)mm
fresh peaches --
the wet print of his body
on the pool deck
Or, since some people get so much mileage out of the second person:
fresh peaches --
the wet print of your body
on the pool deck
5 June 2006
he sprawls in the chair with his socks
in his lap
31 May 2006
june --
april and may march
with julia's august father
h(reluctant to sign this one)mm
5 June 2006
rose's june --
april and julia may march forth
with august september strides
h(why be hung for a lamb?)mm
fresh peaches --
the wet print of his body
on the pool deck
Or, since some people get so much mileage out of the second person:
fresh peaches --
the wet print of your body
on the pool deck
5 June 2006
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