Welcome to tinywords 22.1
Welcome to the latest issue, and congratulations to Sam Bateman who opens this issue with his winning poem inspired by our photo prompt of a rural Arizona road.
Category: Issue 22.1
vernal equinox
the freshly-turned earth
settles into itself
relaxing
its hold
snowdrop bud
disappearing
into a boy’s warm breath
frost flowers
moonless night
an accordion’s swell
bends out of tune
star gazing
what we wished for
light years ago
mountaintop —
sunlight threads
the prayer rug
making amends
the peace lily
blooms again
family reunion
she slips into her
childhood accent
one of her good days—
in the birdbath
a wrinkle of ice
telling stories of long ago the sound of rain (haiga)
some stories
take all day to tell
red-eyed vireo
counting clouds
the nuthatch
caches a seed
afternoon sun
the plum tree’s
perfumed shadow
prayer
without words
spring rain
deluge
the gospel
of unnamed streams
prayer wheel my rhythm falters
recycle bins
all the things
no longer me
falling leaves
a chorus of chainsaws
in the mockingbird’s song
(Originally published on Nick Virgilio Haiku Association’s
clear-cut pines—
concentric circles
filling the pond
my ear
to the earth—
I hear a heart
leaves—
reading
their skeletal epitaphs
one year older…
an oak leaf twirls
on a silken thread
seed hairs
the whisper of a tree
at dusk
less and less to say gossamer
(tan-renga composed by Jonathan Roman and Dyana Basist)
late afternoon
two old friends
chat in silence
evening
voices in the marketplace
soften
neighborhood squabble
one piñon jay
scatters the lesser finches
power outage…
neighbors on the street
in conversation
birdcage
we all have a name
for home
family photos
hard lines soften
with age
babushka dolls
carrying my ancestors
inside of me
(haiga)
first tea
stirring the day
into being
dawn chill
the potter returns
to her kiln
(Honorable Mention, Morioka Award, 2021)
evening shift
the dip and rise
of goldfinches
mountain trek
my steps ringed
with birdsong
(Wales Haiku Journal, Autumn 2021)
A smudge
of blackbirds swirling
into evening . . .
how fluid the shape
of this sorrow
(haiga)
clouded night
a far hound explains
this full moon
wind from the sea
an old dog bares
its teeth
all that’s left
in the bait bucket –
a pelican’s breath
grey heron
the depth of the river
in its eyes
stepping stones
in the river
the choices we make
bus stop…
empty promises
carved in a bench
waning moon
those who talk about it
those who don’t
wind keens
through the canyon
ancient voices
bitter cold
numbing my mouth
into silence
threat of war
on the other side
of the world
winter rains
arrive
at the oasis
the way fingers
know the keys
starless night
crepuscular light
the first puff of pine smoke
enters the hive
lacing the breeze
the sunlight
a spider spins
move-in day
everything I own
seen
in a different
light
(Originally published in GUSTS No. 33, Spring/Summer 2021)
home from work
the intimacy
and loneliness
of a shared wall
(haiga)
fence line the laughter of violets
teenager’s room
dust on the book
of fairy tales
autumn dusk
the dog-eared pages
of a second-hand book
ocean
joins the sky
welders at work
job search the tide takes another sandbar
outrigger canoe
the first lesson is always
about breath
ebb tide
crabhole after crabhole
sighs
line of daybreak
an evergreen sways
to stillness
magnolia allée
the deep shade
of gentility
a dream within a dream Juneteenth
father and son
skimming stones
skimming sky
he takes with him
the important ones
memory care
watercolour hills
the sunrise bleeds
into blue
summer blues fest
long after sunset
cicadas jamming
unheeded love songs freeze between worlds
(haiga)
cold beach
the playlist
from the next umbrella
snapdance of static
on the hairs of my arm
old television set
no prognosis
the daily reshuffling
of my destiny
Living with it
in light and in shadow
the garden buddha
green paddy fields
our walk ends
in a cup of sake
rain sun rain…
the welcome mat
steaming
going back again
on their promise
summer clouds
heat shimmer
a dog by the roadside
licks a broken tap
many layers
in father’s turban —
summer hills
shuttered monastery
the keening
of bell crickets
across the strand
the college’s water tower
mushrooms out of mist
(Published in Frogpond, October 2021)
midnight the sun moonlighting
so effortless…
the pull
of a dead star
(Published on First Literary Review-East, 2021)
big sky
a snag on the river
leaving no scar
ashes
on the frog pond
wildfire moon
One fray in the kite’s string summer solitude
the squeak from
new wiper blades
end of summer
departing summer
a contrail becomes
the only cloud