A steam plume rises
against slate-grey fog bank-
South San Francisco.
Published by
d. f. tweney
d. f. tweney is the founder and publisher of tinywords.com. A writer, editor, journalist, and listener poet, he lives in the San Francisco Bay Area with his family. He tries to write haiku every day, but he doesn't always succeed.
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6 thoughts on “”
dft, though i wasn’t there, a voice whispers, “something was missed”.
hearing the fabled pied piper’s flute, the steam wavers to the heavens;
or simply a breeze inducing the flume to shimmer, making it’s way to being dissipated, a one way trip to the land of that which once was.
then, i reread the piece and saw “plume”, is this a wisp of steam, sent packing, alone
the “slate-grey fog bank”, the basket from which the cobra rises,
the container, the plume was squeezed from, and sent aloft,
the grey matter contained in the cranium,
the grey area, one tries to focus in on, to no avail…
oh well
south (san francisco), hmmm, “a mecca of mental enhancement”.
dft, you would have been forgiven, for allowing your thoughts to improvise(interpret) just a little.
in this piece, i see the beginning of something thought provoking, however, it’s as though the artist ran out of paint, to be cont. at a later date.
dft, though i wasn’t there, a voice whispers, “something was missed”.
hearing the fabled pied piper’s flute, the steam wavers to the heavens;
or simply a breeze inducing the flume to shimmer, making it’s way to being dissipated, a one way trip to the land of that which once was.
then, i reread the piece and saw “plume”, is this a wisp of steam, sent packing, alone
the “slate-grey fog bank”, the basket from which the cobra rises,
the container, the plume was squeezed from, and sent aloft,
the grey matter contained in the cranium,
the grey area, one tries to focus in on, to no avail…
oh well
south (san francisco), hmmm, “a mecca of mental enhancement”.
dft, you would have been forgiven, for allowing your thoughts to improvise(interpret) just a little.
in this piece, i see the beginning of something thought provoking, however, it’s as though the artist ran out of paint, to be cont. at a later date.
Hello Tweney here are my responses to your city haiku.
the night city ~
a stream of cars flow
into the starry sky ~
midnight Bombay ~
three eagles chase
a shooting star ~
morning fog
newspapers roll out
of the printing plant
field
of yellow flowered weeds —
sparrow stalking
–
Driving on highway
among so many shops and warehauses
some dry blades of grass
autumnal morning fog
through the valley …
my mind stumbles
–