a dragonfly
lifts off the crumpled weeds –
its shadow
Published by
Patricia Prime
Patricia has recently retired from teaching after 30 years, and now devotes some time to the reading recovery programme at her local school. She is the co-editor of the New Zealand haiku magazine Kokako and reviews editor of the online magazine Stylus. She writes short stories, poetry, reviews and articles, and likes to write collaborative poems with other poets.
Contact Patricia: pprime at ihug.co.nz.
View all posts by Patricia Prime
17 thoughts on “”
looking over his shoulder
footprints …
no one in sight
looking over his shoulder
footprints …
no one in sight
during showers
sound of ping-pong balls
from the garage
imagination
wishful thinking …
remembrance of another time
email painting
the large blank head reminds me
I need a holiday
palm trees in the spirit
covered with xmas light …
imagine this
white flower
in its depths
a tiny ant
a tiny ant:
grain upon grains of sand
in a single mound
across the hillside
melodius calls
mating quail
at dusk, then dawn
the words sound the same …
spurned lover’s haunting calls
in the darkness
party-goers’ voices
come and go
light is seen
going on and off …
the fridge’s door left open
keeping me up late
the world rugby contest
and the sound of rain
covered with mud:
all the players
wearing the same color
baking
a three-chocolate mud cake
grandchildren lick spoons
childhood memories
three-chocolate mud cake …
my mouth waters
Dear Bob, I think it’s finito to this one. Let’s concentrate on the haiku sequence for Yellow Moon.
Pat
autumn, ghostly twilight
drifting out of the deep-woods —
“bobwhite