Welcome to tinywords 16.1
So begins issue #16.1.
Category: Issue 16.1
leaving
the wayfarers’ chapel
moonlight
full moon
a path across the river
only one may walk
a river’s song
darkness settles first
in its stones
Easter Sunday
a For Sale sign leans
into birdsong
grace . . .
the one whose eyes
are opened
strawberries?
all she knows
of spring desire
wildflowers . . .
great are the affairs
of? bees
silently
across hard piano keys
a soft duster
the spring breeze feels its way
through old wind chimes
late show on TV?
I finish cleaning up
for the cleaning lady
as if
I’m royalty ?
blossoms beneath my feet
spinning
a carousel
of postcards
I see my town
as a tourist
(originally appeared in bottle rockets, #32, Feb 2015)
small town where I grew up
a rusty penny on the tracks
sepia tones
the way they spoke
back then
family reunion
forgotten
in a locket
old friends . . .
the garden fading
into twilight
visitor sign-in
the unrelenting cheerfulness
of daffodils
hospice bed
each breath
a lifetime
A haibun by Bill Gottlieb.
snow on mars tonight earth’s flaming arrow
(for David Bowie, 1/8/47-1/10/16)
(originally appeared in Roadrunner 8.4)
drifting stars
the blues song
deep in me
lightning then thunder
the steel strings of the guitar
hum
mirage
we walk all day
into the future
old pond
oil slick rainbows
slip in
pear blossoms
another parking ticket
for my stolen car
finally at peace
with my pear shape
stone buddha
falling behind
the serious hikers
wild raspberries
adopted ?
at the river’s origin
I quench my thirst
(originally appeared in Bottle Rockets #34)
Haiga: a few ducks for company the long way home
Caribbean cruise
getting away
with all these people
king sized bed
room enough
for separate dreams
thunder in the middle of his dream diary
all day rain
clicking my pen again
and again
A haibun by Bob Lucky.
paper dolls ?
she tries on
her mother’s voice
conversation with my daughter
a ribbon of honey in my tea
all the kids
on my lap
top
passwords
the family pet
lives on
family reunion ?
the camera timer
goes off too soon
kneading flour–
I fold into
myself
(originally appeared in The Asahi Shimbun, January 15, 2016)
plates clinking
in the dishwasher
evening sleet
a few words
from the doctor
crows on snow
living alone
in the blizzard
of forgetfulness …
snowflakes obscure the world
outside the nursing home
winter light
the kindest
of strangers
so much expected
of the red snow shovel
unless it rains
Piazza San Marco
the snow falling
in my selfie
sugar snow
sifting through evergreens
empty nests, full
winter winds?
the scent of apples
in empty baskets
Slow-falling snowflakes
the black queen captures
another pawn
mushroom cloud
before Los Alamos
just a shape
ruined mansion
the gate still stands
but not the fence
in the pond
the face of autumn
rippling
all hallows’ eve
my skeleton awaits
its night out
age
the altered landscape
of my dreams
old vagrant his ring of sparrows
old journal
a stranger
to myself
midday sun
the fence?s shadow
switching yards
seed catalog
the colours of
a winter daydream
A haibun “landscape” by Geethanjali Rajan
out of silence the piccolo player’s bright red nails
drowsy afternoon…
the bangle-seller’s call
the length of an alley
(Previously published at The Heron’s Nest, June
Orion’s belt
the darkest part
of the path
haiga
Haiga: Perseid shower
I fall
with every star
drinking tea
our hands orbit
the cups
working overtime
the scent of fried onions
in empty takeout
dory crossing
the light labor
of a gull
haiga: just where the sky
meets the sea —
laughing gulls
lilac blossoms
weighed down by steady rain
commencement day
budding trees
the letter wide open
to suggestions
gently her tongue slides
sealing the envelope
This is a tan renga, a form of linked verse,
her plait in step with her hips a string of jasmine
(First published in Bones, an e-book in PDF format by Kala Ramesh and Marlene Mountain)
wolf whistle ?
she runs her ringed fingers
through her hair
taking root
in foreign soil –
wild rosemary
headphones from one hemisphere to the next
thunderheads
I can’t let go
of my argument
a dragonfly pausing the wind
the bee sting
of bourbon shots-
grandpa’s hidden whiskey
A haibun by Elmedin Kadric
campfire
I disappear
with the moth
pooling where the creek bends fish
the last trawler
leaves the harbour
moonlight quivers
evening zephyr ?
the earth turns over
in sleep
ground swell
the day moon draws closer
first stars?
I turn the sand out
of my pockets
private beach
the kids build
an ivory tower
abandoned beach house
slowly the dunes
move in