my father’s funeral
at last
I meet him
Published by
Petar Tchouhov
I live in Sofia, the capital of Bulgaria, in Eastern Europe, where I write poetry, short stories and novels, music and lyrics, and play guitar for various rock bands. My haiku are published in Frogpond, Haiku Presence, Ginyu, World Haiku 2006, Simply Haiku, Full Moon, Roadrunner, Haikuworld, and Mainichi Daily News. I like comic books, rodents, traveling, and beer.
contact: cheshoboy at yahoo dot com
View all posts by Petar Tchouhov
I enjoyed this haiku very much. Mine has a different slant:
the rain
almost a friend
this funeral
This was initially written about my father’s funeral, but has been adopted by others.
Thank you for your haiku and I look forward to seeing more.
a sad truth
with a sigh,
Angelika
Suggests a story and a world, Petar.
old photo
who is the baby
my father holds
on the money. hits the bulls eye.
eulogy…
a golden crow sits
on the chapel windowsill
Thank you, Petar
It evoked my own memory:
my father died:
this is the month
robins depart.
Petar, everywhere the heartache is bitterly.
the mother’s death
fallen star
eternally…
kujtim,
always a pleasure to read your comments.
what is the national dish of albania?
peter, provocative, well drawn.
p. bodhi, brilliant. the eulogy really is
nothing more than verbal stained glass, a
distortion of the facts.
nightsnow
i edit the text
of father’s eulogy
Thank you all for your kind comments.
Best regards from Bulgaria.
Petar
the ancient
gnarled peach tree–
now fallen by the worm
—
issa-
i, who outlived him
in the dewy
field
My father died when I was 12. He was 44.
In his coffin,
I see my father
breath.
death, in some way the end of a day, though some end at noon, while others leave off at dawn; comes midnight, the cross-over time, i peer through the partially closed blinds…
–
her hello
day before summer
turns to winter’s farewell