Monday, December 26, 2011


Daily Haiga, December 19, 2011
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Sunday, December 18, 2011



Our first Christmas in Switzerland is in a cramped two room furnished apartment, my husband and I and three children.  We are newly arrived from Los Angeles.

The apartment is on the fourth floor in a building with a broken elevator.  A promise from the concierge that it will be repaired toute suite does not come about during the two months we are there.

wind-blown snow
swirling in a paper-weight
the high window view

On Christmas Eve, after dinner in a restaurant, we climb the three flights of stairs, pour eggnog and open presents.  The children fall asleep in their cots, and my husband and I refill our glasses, adding a dram of spirits.  He reads and I write.

cold moonlight
I search the sky
for a bright star

Contemporary Haibun On-line, March 2010

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Sunday, December 11, 2011


                                                    sleety rain
                                            waiting on the embers
                                                    before bed

                                                    fresh snow                                            
                                            from his upper window
                                                 a neighbor's wave

                                                     light snow
                                              her long cape sweeps
                                                the steps clean                                                    

Simply Haiku, winter 2011
3 Lights Gallery, January 2009
Presence, winter 2011
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Monday, December 5, 2011


Daily Haiga,
September 21, 2011
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Thursday, December 1, 2011


                                                THE LIKENESS OF THINGS
teenaged girls like talk to each other and like to their friends on their cell phones they like tell each other like everything that they like are thinking and are like trying to like talk above and like over the others without like pausing for like a breath with a sudden movement one girl like gets up and like slings her large bag like over her shoulder and like walks away soon the others like follow and the plaza is like quiet

                                                 plaza fountain
                                                      a steady sprinkling of drops
                                                            on the pavement

Simply Haiku, Sept. 2010

Saturday, November 26, 2011


a country road
through the dun colored landscape
of November
chimney smoke stirs a desire
to return home

Magnapoets Antholoogy 2009
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Thursday, November 17, 2011



a shift in the wind
all my neighnbor's leaves
are now mine

morning fog
a watercolor wash
of maple gold

woodland walk
all of autumn
under my feet

Midwest Haiku, Illinois Times, November 2002
Stylus Poetry Journal, December 2004
HSA Wall. Bend, Oregon June 2011

Tuesday, November 15, 2011



She teases and torments me; plays with me and protects; chases me away and calls me back.

We share a room, toys and clothes, sickness and secrets.  We fight, yell and scream, scratch and pinch.  I bite her once.  The taste of brown soap still remembered.  When she’s away at camp I’m lonely.

She explains important matters.  The “curse,“ an aunt’s growing stomach, how boys are different from girls, why a neighbor divorced her husband.

sticky night
after lights out

Bottle Rockets, August 2008

Thursday, November 10, 2011


Haigaonline, December 2010
Abandoned Series
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Saturday, November 5, 2011


Haigaonline, December 2010, Abandoned Series
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Monday, October 31, 2011


Haigaonline, December 2010, Abandoned Series
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Thursday, October 27, 2011


Haigaonline, December 2010 Abandoned Series
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Saturday, October 15, 2011


Simply Haiku, December 2010
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Sunday, October 9, 2011


Gean, December 2010
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Sunday, October 2, 2011


                                           WHAT THERE IS…

in new grass in the scent of lilacs carried by breezes in hills of rocks and wild flowers in the silkiness of a blue sky in a road curving gently down to a green valley in slow moving horses grazing in a field in the smell of black dirt and fresh manure

                                            highway rumble–
                                       in the rear-view mirror
                                            the fading sunset

Hoi Polloi, Autumn 2009

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Saturday, September 24, 2011


                                             CALIFORNIA DREAMING

October 9, the day we arrive in Los Angeles.  Connecticut transplants. Fugitives from cold winters and lack of work.  Mom, Dad, older sister and I, 16 years old.  A new life in the ultimate dreamland.

                                                 stepping off the train
                                                 a Santa Anna blows
                                                 on schedule 

Surprises and changes every day.  The hot autumn, not the cool, brisk, vivid season of the northeast; eye smarting smog, the sky a dull beige, not the clean, fresh blue we knew; tacos, chili and burritos, not fish and chips or ham with baked beans; bungalows, haciendas and mission churches, not colonial, Georgian and gothic cathedrals.

                                               Pacific sunset–
                                               cheering to win
                                               new school colors

Gean, June 2010

Saturday, September 17, 2011


Simply Haiku, July 2011
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Saturday, September 10, 2011

Apple haiku

Heron's Nest, Sept. 2006
Frogpond, Autumn 2005
Dragonfly, October 1975
And Unknown Road
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Sunday, September 4, 2011



everything you need everything you want at the mall clothes for school clothes for work at the mall running shoes party shoes fill your house your garage at the mall come today come tomorrow hang out here meet your friends at the mall short of cash charge it now at the mall  everything you need everything you want at the mall

                                                indoor garden
                                              the artificial color
                                                     of roses

Simply Haiku, March 2011

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Sunday, August 28, 2011


Hurricane Irene
in the semi-darkness
a cold breakfast

heavy time
slowly ticking the minutes
Hurricane Irene

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Sunday, August 21, 2011


                                 found in a trashpile
                                 a teapot with a crack
                                 making it useless
                                 but for the curve of its handle
                                 and the tilt of its spout
Stylus Poetry Journal
August 2005

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Sunday, August 14, 2011


                                heat wave-
                                the unwashed smell
                                of city sidewalks;
                                under a shaded flower stall
                                the coolness of country fields

Moonset, October 2008

Sunday, August 7, 2011

Summer haiku

                                          a dry white wine-
                                         summer breezes in
                                        through an open door

                                            nothing to do...
                                           we sit and listen
                                         to the pulsing heat

                                           summer shower...
                                   the sour smell of marigolds
                                           along the path

Wisteria, October 2007
Haiku Harvest, spring/summer 2006
Heron's Nest, July 2002
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Sunday, July 31, 2011



            A vivid blue sky with no beginning and no end.  Pleasantly warm with low humidity. Doing ordinary tasks of no importance, one at a time, in no hurry to complete.  I pull weeds in a corner of the yard.  The sun on my back, pouring strength into my bones, sending an energy to my hands.

                                                 hidden in the trees
                                                a multitude of birds
                                                tuning up

            No one else about. Just squirrels and chipmunks on private business.  We ignore each other and complete our tasks.
                                                my shadow mincing along
                                                beside me

Bottle Rockets, July 2006

Sunday, July 24, 2011


                                    billowing clouds
                                           in the valley
                                                 a bouncing sun

Gean, August 2009
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Sunday, July 17, 2011


                                                          THE HAT

It was once my father-in-law's fishing hat.  A natural straw with a four inch crown and a three inch rim.  It's become a mainstay in my summer attire.  Sun shade, fashion accessory and mood adapter.  With part of the rim down and worn at an angle, I'm mysterious and ready for a romantic lunch.  Worn back with the entire rim turned up I'm jaunty and young.  Worn centered with rim completely down I'm all business.

                                                store front window–
                                                my reflection in between
                                                two mannequins

Presence, #33, 3007


Sunday, July 10, 2011


day dreaming
in the shade of twin pines
summer coolness

Presence, spring 2011
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Monday, July 4, 2011

Haiku-4th of July

Fourth of July
watching fireflies
on the lawn

Fourth of July-
billowing thunderheads
pass on review

Snapshots, Feb. 2006, An Unknown Road, 2008
Gean, June 2010
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Sunday, June 26, 2011


Millbrook, NY

uneven path
fallen pine needles
soften each step

rock plinth
from the crevice on top
a creeping vine

jet fountain
daisies beaded
with water

a cactus flower
in cracked stone
the piercing thorns

wind across the pond
lily pads collide
along the bank

Chinese garden
the afternoon reches
into its shadows

Henry, A Hudson Valley Journal
spring 2011
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Sunday, June 19, 2011


Gean, June 2011
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Sunday, June 12, 2011


County Galway, Ireland
by Adelaide B. Shaw 

Scarcely populated, an area of lakes and rivers, of melancholy and wonder.  A place of mist and fog with rain nearly every day.  Lushly green with wet, hummocky ground that never dries up. 

peat bogs–
meeting in a pool
runnels of rain

Black-faced sheep with curved horns, the “killer sheep” of Connemara, their rumps and sides splashed with red or blue paint, or both, to identify ownership. 

                                                            craggy hills
                                                    my slow mincing steps
                                                          behind the flock

 No trees, but an abundance of plants and shrubs which grow to amazing heights:  fuchsia, woodbine, hawthorn, rhododendron, ferns and several varieties of thorny plants.

                                                              floating fog
                                                       the narrow road edged
                                                          with clipped shrubs

Short and sturdy Connemara ponies, donkeys and burros work the fields and pull the wagons.

                                                              carrots ready
                                                   the gray mare and black colt
                                                              cease nuzzling

Rising above Lough Pollacappul in the heart of Connemara is Kylemore Abbey, an 1867 castle, now home to the Benedictine order of nuns.  Extensive gardens cover six acres, in marked contrast to the wild landscape surrounding them. 

                                                                flower beds
                                                             along a brick path
                                                               the rolling mist

                                                                  peat smoke
                                                        from the gardener’s cottage–
                                                                   turning back
LYNX, June 2011

Saturday, June 4, 2011


                                                               TRAIL WALK 

Early spring.  The season just opening up along our favorite trail.  My husband has a camera and I a notebook.  Ahead of us is a young boy about 14 years old.  Headset on, totally absorbed within himself, unaware of our presence until we pass him. Within a minute he passes us, then slows down again.  Soon we are in front.  For several minutes we race for the lead until age gives way to youth.

                                                              along the trail
                                                          walking at full speed
                                                            wildflowers a blur 

World Haiku Review, Summer 2005

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