late autumn --
his marriage proposal
written on the sand
 

—Majo Leavick
        

About the author: Presently, I am a member of the Yuki Teikei Haiku Society based in San Jose, California. I have been writing haiku since October of 2006. I also post some of my poems in HaikuWorlds.com.

Contact: majklin at aol dot com

Responses to the haiku for 11 December 2007 by Majo Leavick

  1.  
    magyar
    2007-12-11 06:09:10
     

    Marijo, The romance and the weakness of life, so very warmly shown_!
    _His wonderful proposal is vulnerable to nature with its penchant toward -erasing- the sands, but with indifference to those thinks that are subliminally at risk... this one seems... worth taking.
    _M

  2.  
    toby evans
    2007-12-11 17:57:41
     

    carved heart
    the drip drip drip
    of msaple sap

  3.  
    gK
    2007-12-11 18:14:08
     

    Interesting.

    You're not sure if the proposal is literally or metaphorically "written on the sand".

  4.  
    Bill Kenney
    2007-12-11 20:53:43
     

    But came the waves and washed it away?

  5.  
    Judith Ingram
    2007-12-11 21:15:02
     

    The proposal is romantic but subject to the tide. This one ( which really happened) is romantic, expensive and fleeting:

    Plane towing trailer o'er the beach
    Marry me Nona-
    at your own risk

  6.  
    Vasile Moldovan
    2007-12-11 23:50:55
     

    Their love
    swept by the waves
    like a sand-castle

  7.  
    Majo
    2007-12-12 09:22:46
     

    Thank you all for taking your time to write
    comments, and I do appreciate each and everyone.

    Majo

  8.  
    Ross Clark
    2007-12-12 18:51:30
     

    one from my 2nd chapbook
    (but yours is more resonant and apposite - thank you):

    haiku scratched in sand
    tonight's tide takes my words

  9.  
    b. m. richardson (orgbob at webtv dot net)
    2007-12-13 17:30:07
     

    strange how the underlying nature in this haiku seems to mystify some.
    it's ambiguity, uncertainty, from the significance of the opening line to the last word creates a poem worth calling a haiku.
    many think "kigo"; then lose themselves in a book's defining of the "haiku", rather than it's own merit...

    -

    chilling rain-filled morn--
    following her lead
    i stumble

  10.