Dawn Bruce, somersetpoets at ozemail.com.au
Dawn Bruce is a widely published Australian poet, winner of numerous free verse and haiku awards. Dawn was the coordinator of Somerset Poets for five years and is now leader of two creative writing groups in Sydney. Her second book, 'Tangible Shadows', will be published late 2005.
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22 thoughts on “”
This haiku puts me in mind of Whitman’s When Lilacs Last in the Dooryard Bloomed”” Well done.”
This haiku puts me in mind of Whitman’s When Lilacs Last in the Dooryard Bloomed”” Well done.”
autumn rain
drops above the grass
sea of ants
My best wishes, Kujtim
Birds migration towards the West
on the wing pockets
passports withou visas
On the new sepulchre
un unseen flower:
even his soul
remember me
he seemed to say
as evening settled sooner.
My dad died this past year and your poem reminds me that I haven’t done all my mourning yet. Thank you for this.
nice haiku. and kujtim, your english seems
to be improving day by day! keep up the
good work.
morning glories
i have totally lost
the dream i remembered
sea death
a bouquet of roses
washed ashore
sudden death…
maple leafs shirt
on the coffin
out of my lane
reading crosses
drop a flower
on the coffin’s lid . . .
driving home
upon his ousting
the peace lily
shall bloom again
bravo fruitgirl!
Having fallen asleep,
Waking up
In a new place
Over the yellow wall
A green tree;
Billowing clouds
my mother’s poppies
still spreading their red
long after she’s gone *
      *World Haiku Review, November, 2002Â
lingering heat
salvation and resurrection
the funeral hope
gillena
(first appearance at Wordchimes.com)
i didn’t think this poem deserved 16 comments. i thought it deserved 17!
great work dawn!
autumn mist…
a city bus idles
at the cemetery gate
the fish died
at the end of summer
– its life littering the bowl.
~ Felica
check out more haiku at:
http://www.purpleecho.com
felica, i checked out your site; enjoyable
while reading your response, i began toying with it. resulting from my epigrammatical ways the following lines:
the end of summer
the gold fish dies —
another life litters the bowl
So many great responses to a lovely poem.
Fruitgirl: he wouldn’t know a peace lily from a dirty sock.
her ashes
in the garden
bloom a flower
I have revised the above haiku:
her ashes
in the garden–
seedlings bloom.
free wind
through the pines–
dust covered foal in even smaller corral