winter gale
drawing the haiku boulder
without light or shade
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
92 thoughts on “”
haiku art –
colorful words
realistic, yet abstract
haiku art –
colorful words
realistic, yet abstract
dust devils
the pink sky darkens on Gusev Crater
pen with black ink
atoms of words and pictures
to paper they wed
brush and sumi touch
spring grown paper of true hemp-
sketch of patricia
i make my ink thick
to paint a picture of you
lonley winter night
winter gale –
my chest begins to swell
drawing the haiku boulder –
i look over your shoulder
without light or shade –
the color of my eyes is clear
–
day ends, day begins
to arise or sleep
in all lights, thine beauty’s to be
winter cold
between each haiku line
my cough
email
a tiny poem
circles the globe
river walk…
a cloud between
each stepping stone
midnight silence —
the haiku around the white peonies
comes to mind
–
haiku boulders
the Indian man
adjusts his dhoti
heat of the night –
dhoti on the floor
his pride remains
puppies for sale . . .
the pride of the litter
kept for the family
struggling throwback
unwanted love …
mirrored lake’s graceful snowy swan
–
watching every step
of the farmer’s wife
a cow in labour
in the green field
the single herd —
bellow in return
foreclosure notice . . .
the farmer sells his land
for lifestyle blocks
rolling grasslands
in the midst, engineer stands —
viewing his plans
–
to the sleeper
comes a dream —
children’s screams
–
end of winter
already the maple tree
awakes from sleep
sap rising
winter’s end
sugar maple, sap runs
morning pancakes
the tartness of lemons,
sweetness of sugar
the sound of her voice
calling my name …
the morning sun, so warm
recycling day
an empty Chianti bottle
in the trash can
recycling day —
nights when lonely
feeling we’ve been replaced
kindergarten children
bring me a worm . . .
then cut it in two
cat’s litter —
showing the children pictures
of a much younger me
a swallow
feathers the nest
with cat fur
no rain, cracks in the earth
swallow’s nest
out on a limb
deliberate bomb
an avalanche set off
on the snow fields
winter’s whiteness –
the arctic fox
silently, scampers away
grandmother’s fox fur –
I dust and clean it
for the garage sale
sneezing from the dust –
childhood remembrancer
ice cream truck’s bell
ice-cream wrapper
tumbles over a patch of grass
and down the drain
peering into the drain,
this hidden world
extending my small hand
this cold morning
fingerless gloves
offer protection
open arms —
never seeing the jagged scar
love and affection
my sister’s arm
the burn scars still visible
forty years later
invisible
after many years,
a blossom, on the orange tree
early spring
I pulp oranges
to make juice
cane juice rivulet
burro’s endless circling …
pulp rising higher
maple syrup
on breakfastpancakes –
spoiling the children
children –
last days of summer
kudzu’s passionate purple blossoms
retirement home –
over the fence a sprig
of apple blossom
winter
my barren thoughts —
fence, in need of repair
–
pale sunlight
the lawn mower tractor
goes round in circles
pale sunlight
my blurry vision —
calm before the storm
–
silence –
leaves stirring
dust rising
optician’s letter –
I need new glasses to study
the fine print
bend in the tree
optometrist’s letter —
L
alphabet letters . . .
the child recognises
‘A’for apple
nearly unrecognizable
wilted core —
the red apple
first haiku
of the morning –
curl of apple peel
a haiku day —
heavy winds and rain
herald the approaching storm
waiting in line –
a stream of traffic
heads for the hills
a stream
of traffic —
gas rationing
following
the lunch-time curry
indigestion
digest
what follows …
yesterday, this rooster crowed!!!
suburbia –
a crowing rooster
wakes the district
suburbia –
an escape
from the rat race
bedtime story . . .
nightmares about ratakes –
half rat, half snake
yellow butterfly resting
on the yellow rose —
bedtime story
graduation day –
in her arms roses
and baby’s breath
restless night
pausing in her doorway —
baby’s breath
shifting furniture
he gets the bed stuck
in the doorway
at night
avoiding the furniture …
blackout
“for sale” sign –
the next-door neighbour
cleans the yard
buried
in overgrown grass —
“for sale” sign
transfixed
but only by the wind
I examine the sign
i heard you calling
only the wind knows
my name
whisper of a voice –
my pet name a secret
known to few
late night rummaging
whisper of a voice
“who’s there”
night chattering –
it’s only the possums
on the roof
she giggles –
pass bedtime
playing possum
favourite story –
the same one over
and over again
morning visitor —
molting blue jay
the same one, again
jay walker –
almost sideswept by a car
hardly notices
sideswipe
walk on the wild side …
her alluring eyes
new road crossing –
forgetting the rules
I’m almost knocked down
brewing on the horizon
another day
new road crossing
school holidays
children on the crossing
carry heavy loads
ants commuting with
heavy loads —
i idly stand by
idle in spring sun
I watch the washing machine’s
spin cycle
reddish autumn sun
rustling withered corn stalks –
harvest moon
steamed till supple
but the stems still firm
asparagus
sweltering evening —
Oh! steamed asparagus
my mind’s suppleness
a lazy Sunday
the house echoes to the strains
of Mozart
hildegard von bingen –
she and i
intertwine
umberto eco –
wallowing in 14th century
politics
one truth above all else
“lady prime” …
Il nome della rosa
“a rose by any other name” –
in the spring gardens
rosebuds tightly furled
last of summer
beginning of autumn —
last peach rosebud tightly furled
everywhere you look
blossom scattered
by high winds
the barren tree
my eyes, closing —
remember
blossom festival
the snow falls on branches
white on pink
autumn’s birth
summer’s tears –
more firewood, need gathering
–
fronds rustling –
feeling a chill
within