Tuesday, July 31, 2012

haiku retrospective cdix

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

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

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

Saturday, July 28, 2012

haiku retrospective cdvi

tongues of flame --
his steady gaze draws me

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 --

forehead against the dashboard --
fire season

another wildfire --
she weeps, her forehead pressed
against the dashboard

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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