autumn sunlight
the old dog unearths
her favorite toy
Tag: haiga
christmas lights . . .
the ambulance flashing
in all the windows
Words Words
tinywords is pleased to resume publication and kick off issue 10.1 with cover art by Natalie d’Arbeloff.
A few notes about issue 10.1: It was edited by d. f. tweney,
sunday
line of parking meters
all EXPIRED
war ruins…
suddenly the cicadas
stop
beach party
the last drop of sunlight
caught in a glass
empty nest
empty nest
still
the bird sings
winterlight
a blur of birdsong
in the air
haiga
flash of yellow
a butterfly headbutts me
in my work break
again and again
a little girl makes it rain
cherry blossoms
summer breeze …
the wind generators
in unison
each
butterfly
carrying
spring
Inspired by the poet Marlene Mountain’s haiku tear outs.
first recital
all the ballerinas out of step
the window
overgrown with trumpet vine
my dream of flying
today slips
into the room ? hungry
on tiny paws
light falling everywhere in its own place — summer’s end
alone at last
she chooses the road
less travelled…
in her wind-blown hair
salt air and wildflowers
just past mauve paddling hard for a dark shore
we needn’t talk —
the night whispers
tales long forgotten
The many notes
of the falling rain,
all in tune.
Photo by Adiel Gardner, Poem by Don Wentworth
The poem was previously published in “Past
Haiga
dogwood petals
falling with the rain
my thoughts in pieces
gossiping among themselves
their stories
centuries old
Photo: The Three Gossips
Arches National Park
Moab, UT
first rain releasing held breath of summer
watercolor: Michael Kowalewski, UK
haiku: Sonam Chhoki, Bhutan
soundless —
the rain falls from
flower to moss
nearly spring --
a shadow of the words
you left behind
spring sunlight
rose tinted glasses
accent a black eye
untouched for two days
my journal waits, patient
as an atom bomb
unexplored world
from behind the neighbor’s fence
a cosmos
(Honorable Mention in The 17th Mainichi Haiku Contest)
calm mist
the cowbells
marching
first drizzle ...
all that was left unsaid
in your eyes
dawn stillness
a blue heron
rising without a ripple
Haiga
woodpecker song
luring me deeper
into solitude
letting go
the party continues
without us
wildflower walk
the
path
veers
off
through winter
a few ducks for company the long way home
just where the sky
meets the sea—
laughing gulls
sere grasses …
summer threads
unraveling
haiku only published in kernelsonline, Summer 2013
in a moon garden
filled with night bloomers
we stroll away
a blue hour
your hand in mine
old love letters
your words
in light and shadow
photo by Frank Russell
chilly morning
my spring coat
stays packed
my father’s country—
each year he goes home
for the last time
fall migration . . .
many wings beat
against a moon drum
when caught
how to release
resentment?
as wind disperses water
as water erodes stone
glassy lake
flocks of snow geese
pull up the moon
bone density …
the broken stems
of sunflowers
beachcombing the detritus of us
water and stone
how we shape
each other
mouth of the riveran ever-changing storytold to the sea
the oceanwas in a rage last nightbut todaythese peace offeringsof blue mussels and kelp
hospice pond
a ripple settles
into stillness
redwood time . . .the steady journeyfrom earth to sky
https://www.makinostudios.com/gallery
mountain meadow
ten thousand ways
to open into grace
plain brown bulb
the mystery
of becoming
northern lights
the blur of scarves
as skaters pass
self storage
the bits we keep
to ourselves
mossy loga ruffled grouse drumsup the dawn
originally published in Frogpond 42.2, 2019
living willthe kids know all I needin the endsunlight on my faceand ice cream every day
beach umbrellaall day the orbitof its shadow
(haiku published in The Heron’s Nest, XXI.3, Sept. 2019)
dawnyour body’s outlinefollows mine
fox tracks … who was I before I was tamed?
(Haiku first published in The Heron?s Nest, Volume XVII, Number 1: March 2015)
tanka
gloomy morninga windchime paddle losesits momentumwe long for life as it wasand the return to normal
downtime the conflict rages
Beyond fault lines and the unbearable weight of the body the wish for wingsto carry us home …
dawn meditationthe valley surrendersits mist
in the beginning cherry blossoms
the measure
of a life
the flower
that blooms
for a single day
morning birdsongso many smallreunions
thunder clap ravens fly at the dream’s collapse
berry-pickingeven our shadowsturn blue
bright green needleson the fire-scarred redwood —what we’ve each survived
point Ato point B …
is lifeever reallythat simple
originally published on Instagram
tall grasscarries the scent of the seafishing memoriesfrom my childhoodthe father I lost
between the pagesof a half-priceguidebook —the colorsof someone’s autumn
my easel standsneglected in the cornerstill fleckedwith bright colors of a worldI no longer recognize
scattered thoughtsgoing where the windtakes me
telling stories of long ago the sound of rain
babushka dolls
carrying my ancestors
inside of me
A smudge
of blackbirds swirling
into evening . . .
how fluid the shape
of this sorrow
home from work
the intimacy
and loneliness
of a shared wall
unheeded love songs freeze between worlds
the ups and downs
of a September day
goldfinches
riptide / we won’t go back
the music of the spheres
in my dreams I know the words
Mining for gold at dawn kalinga sagar
deep river
the places
that call us home
fern spores
the ellipsis after
your goodbye
prairie gale
the groan of a silo
holding steady
to love this body
just as it is
twisted shore pines
indian summer
holding on
and letting go
the struggle
to keep going
summer heat
finding a place to rest the scent of autumn
evening walk—
empty street
but for the sun
one hiker
out of millions
a pebble loosens
Art by Linda Miles. More of Linda’s art can be found at: https://instagram.com/irregularwithlove
the blue hour
you slipped away
without a sound
spring
hanging her best silks
in the wind
migration
the changing course
of my life
deep
in the blossoming
one honeybee
sun-striped path
the forest’s outbreath
fills our lungs
the odd angles of dissent bamboo grove
***
haiku by Geethanjali Rajan; art by Shloka Shankar
bridging
my two worlds
a breath
solar eclipse
the times we choose
to look away
HM, ’24 Murtha Contest
the shape of a life
one sparkling wave
returns to the sea
art and haiku by Annette Makino
indigo sky
one flies
over center field
refugee train
small hands starfished
against the glass
summer dew
the spider’s focus
on home
Haiku: Cherie Hunter Day
Photograph: John Levy.
John Levy is a photographer and poet living in Tucson, Arizona. His most
a day of knitting
loose ends together
brain fog
dawn chorus starlinging me out of night terrors
(haiku first published in Whiptail 12)
colour wheel what the hummingbird tastes
waterfalling
the metallic teal
peacock’s tail
she understands
the language of frogs
summer wind
minor revisions
to the text
spring wind
tulip petals
open
to suggestions
wind phone
the mot juste
of my grief
Photo: John Levy