Time for a fresh harvest of daily poems! Also: Writing prompt winners.
summertime–
let the screen door
bang
summer sunlight
through a green lace canopy
the energy
that slips through
my imperfect plans
seasons repeat
we tell the stories
we are given
(Originally published in Mayfly 58, Winter 2015)
swapping work stories
his pint of beer
has more foam
late summer
mating dragonflies
extend each other
my feelings
for her
fireflies
that raccoon
you know is out there —
a summer fling
A haibun by Charles Tarlton
spring light tadpoles growing into their tails
I tell my son
it?s okay to be fragile?
basil blossoms
filling up
the kiddie pool
a mom?s guilt
pebbles in the tide
my regrets lose
their rough edges
The sound of a door
behind me closing
on one less summer day
an ice cream truck
jingles its tune
down a dead end street
last rites. . .
rain fading into
bird song
(Received 1st Place in the 2015 Betty Drevniok Award)
autumn wind
for the cat now, my feet
no longer a toy
autumn stars
she hopes to go
in her sleep
an elm
in all its basketry—
the moon
my first earrings
box elder tree
seedpods
beyond the protest
willow limbs
shifting with the breeze
a bullfrog
hits the lower registers
weeping willow song
dandelion clock
my grandchildren think
I’m a grown-up
windflower
the sun and moon
on a single stem
Forgetting how big the world is . . .
framed
butterflies
Dad’s old maps
a pinhole through the b
of Timbuktu
twilight
losing count
of blackberries
after 15 years
i find his address
in his own writing…
stargazing again
on a moonless night
a man by his mailbox
reads a letter, then reads it again—
spring melancholy
cataract clouds . . .
her children remind her
what she likes
she waves a thin blue scarf becoming sky
letting go
the party continues
without us
(haiga)
cloud shadows on the highway scudding a h e a d
I cycle through
cloud formations
laundry day
laundromat
a penny’s rhythmic clink
in the dryer drum
ending
in wind chimes—
the heat
breaking drought—
from cupped hands the child
tastes the sky
woodpecker holes…
the constellation’s name
slips my mind
tree stump the unfiltered full moon’s light
cold moon
the sound of my words
in her eyes
Alice in Her Twilight Years
We were cleaning out Mom’s house when we found them in the back of a cupboard, two zaftig Barbies covered in cookie crumbs.
abandoned house
in the window
a doll without eyes
clouds opening
the blue
of her eyes
clouds gone the clarity of shadows
living
a shallow life
sunfish
alpenglow the minnow slips a second paw
canyon stream
dried to a slit
of clear sky
(included in A Dictionary of Haiku, AHA Books, 2013)
the brittle call
of a skylark –
still no rain
how little
I know of bird calls
distant thunder
(Akita International Haiku Award, First Prize, September 2013)
low tones
from the dirt dauber’s nest
we speak of war
bare trees
the credits for the war movie
white on black
discarding
thirty-year-old letters . . .
the fresh scent
of pine seedlings
springing up in the clear cut
beaver
den
the
piling
up
of
things
of what
was he a hoarder
pinwheels in a breeze
autumn walk
my brother leaves the path
first
The path home –
polishing a neighbor’s apple
on my sleeve
how to win you back
mockingbird
from the neighbor’s yard
(from The Opposite of Bird, Cyberwit, 2015)
early autumn
henna
in her hair
reunion …
upon my paper boats
the raindrops
(originally appeared in Modern Haiku, 46.3)
pastas, soups
and Turkish bread
at my door …
her generous spirit
colors my cheeks
pastry chef full of himself
mother’s eulogy
finally I tell her
what she wanted to hear
withered chrysanthemums?
my father gives me
a compliment
family photograph
all our smiles
framed in a lie
dry leaves–
helping my father
with his death poem
shared memory—
the flutter of a million wings
in the monarch sanctuary
shrieking gull falling from a cliff this fear of flying
Ten times ten thousand
terrible things in this world
and still I don’t want to leave it
(from Dreams Wander On, Contemporary Poems of Death
dust devils
the rumble of fracking trucks
on a washboard road
summer drought
a farmhand’s sweat
wets the sod
(Previously published on Cattails, May 2015)
last day
of therapy
a man takes
the out of order sign
off the candy machine
talking done
the dregs of friendship
in our mugs
unfinished argument
all the thistles down the lane
flowering
shattered by a jay’s raw blue afternoon
red Martian sky
the differences
between us
runaway star
a streak of silver
in my hair
winter solstice ?
the day lengthened
by snow light
sleepless ?
my window floats through a thousand
stars
old train set
I unbox
my inner child
visitors coming
where to hide
our bad habits
(Included in A Dictionary of Haiku, AHA Books, 2013)
river tides where have I been
the deer pauses
before turning
back into mist
and afterwards
you don’t say anything
but your eyes flash
like lightning
off in the distance
gave proof
through the night
iPhones
we order Cognac
I ignore how you ignore
her texts
bumper sticker
covering the chip
on her shoulder
solitaire
the missing queen
keeps me awake
fireweed
twice in love
twice burned
another social construct on shaky ground
Outdoor wedding
the odor
of insect repellent
after the ceremony gossiping jackdaws
cathedral stairs
five brides vying
for the best light
diamond ring
all the facets
of desire
u n
z i
p p
i
n
g
her
dress
f
a
l
l
s
Valentine’s Day
the palm reader’s
warm hands
another anniversary
how to remember
how to forget
final departure
after the contrail
starlight
wildflower walk
the
path
veers
off
through winter
(haiga)