colour wheel what the hummingbird tastes (haiga)
Author: Marianne Paul
Marianne Paul is a Canadian novelist and poet with a keen interest in minimalist poetry. Her work has been published in A Hundred Gourds, The Heron's Nest, Acorn, Modern Haiku, Bones, Frozen Butterfly, and Daily Haiku. She has recently (and joyfully) been experimenting with concrete poetry and word play.
awakenings
the ping of first sap
in the bucket
Monet’s lilies
a midge in the mouth
of a dragonfly
drifting snow
each of the war dead
has their story
echocardiogram
the underwater singing
of my heart
the music of the spheres
in my dreams I know the words
(haiga)
babushka dolls
carrying my ancestors
inside of me
(haiga)
scattered thoughts
going where the wind
takes me
(haiga)
the measure
of a life
the flower
that blooms
for a single day
(haiga)
All Hallow’s Eve
the demons not wearing
their masks
autumn in the air
a flit-dip
of chickadees
April Fool’s Day
the cuckoo
switches eggs
pop-up snowstorm
the swirl of Van Gogh’s
starry nights
art of cursive
the barn swallows inking
a washi sky
crescent moon
she leans deeper
into her cane
deep breathing —
i drift by
the flower kiosk
ascension —
sunlight through the wings
of the shad fly
passwords
the family pet
lives on
beaver
den
the
piling
up
of
things