Bright green moss blooming
on the shed’s grey threshold-
new paint for old wood.
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 “”
“Bright green moss blooming
on the shed’s grey threshold-
new paint for old wood.”
a nice capturing of the moment, however, conceivably, my thoughts misled me.
“Bright green moss blooming”
quite vivid
“on the shed’s grey threshold- ”
when i read grey, my thoughts turned to a (metal) shed, though i am sure it may have been painted over wood, grey.
“new paint for old wood.”
this clears up the issue, but knowing how my mind works, i wanted to argue the point, on the shed being made from a metal, however, i know when to let go.
nice interpretation and/or dual meaning
in this haiku, it seems to be an observation, without a deeper meaning…
“Bright green moss blooming
on the shed’s grey threshold-
new paint for old wood.”
a nice capturing of the moment, however, conceivably, my thoughts misled me.
“Bright green moss blooming”
quite vivid
“on the shed’s grey threshold- ”
when i read grey, my thoughts turned to a (metal) shed, though i am sure it may have been painted over wood, grey.
“new paint for old wood.”
this clears up the issue, but knowing how my mind works, i wanted to argue the point, on the shed being made from a metal, however, i know when to let go.
nice interpretation and/or dual meaning
in this haiku, it seems to be an observation, without a deeper meaning…
and yet…
the voice said, “what about the (phoenix)”…
i said, “you’re right, however, no more today”
Thanks and Greetings Tweney.
moss wall
dew-drop worlds sparkle
a temple bell ~
scratched glass
graffiti in sunlight ~
a new Klee painting ~
old temple
the smoked
gods and goddesses
breezy ~
among lustrous green umbrella leaves
silent fledgling doves
In the open air…
an unseen painter changes slowly
all the landscape
clear raindrops fall
on the laborer’s dusty face
a smile at day’s end