Haiga

Daily Haiga, 2011

Haibun

                                         A WINTER AFTERNOON

 

The kitchen at dusk.  A soft bubbling from the pot on the back burner.  An old man at the table.  His full stomach keeps the chair several inches away.  A merry face.  Pink with a full white mustache.  On his equally pink bald head is a black knit cap.

He pours dark red wine made from his own grapes, sips, smacks his lips.  Now a glass for me, much smaller, watered down, befitting my size.  I copy him, dip a chunk of stale bread in my wine. It dissolves in my mouth to nothing. Tangy juices spurt down my throat and my chin.  The old man, my grandfather, wipes my dribbles with his handkerchief.  I am five years old.

 

                                   steam covered windows
                                   a snow carrying wind
                                   rattles the back gate

Ray’s Web Page, 9/17/2003

 

 

Haiku for Valentine's Day

                                                
                                             
                                                he brings me flowers
                                                in perfect symmetry
                                                the love we share                                           

                                                bag of shells
                                                the scent of love
                                                still there

                                                gentle is his touch
                                                balancing my desires
                                                with his

Kukai, June 2013
Haigonline, Oct. 2013

Haiga

Kernels 2013

Haiga

World Haiku Review
December 2012

Haiga

 

 

Daily Haiga, Jan. 2011

Haibun

THE CIRCLE 

My circle is shrinking. For years it expanded.  Yes, there were gaps when someone left, but others came. Always more. Grandma and Grandpa gone. A new uncle and twin cousins came. Aunts and uncles gone. A brother-in-law, a niece and nephews filled their spots. A husband, children, grandchildren and friends kept the circle expanding. It was a loose circle, but so wide for so long it was easy to ignore time and the loosening of someone’s hand until it slipped away.  And they do slip, some slowly and painfully–cancer, emphysema;  some instantly–a lightning strike, a heart attack. It does no good to hold on tightly. I do anyway.

blowing bubbles

before they leave the wand

each one is mine

 

UHTS Cattails samurai haibun contest, FIRST PLACE, December 2014

Haiku

 

                                               party over
                                               the snap crackle of logs
                                               in an empty room

                                               non-stop snow
                                               we pass each other going
                                               from room to room

                                               fresh snow
                                               beginning the new year
                                               with a clean slate

Magnapoets, spring 2012
HSA Anthology 2008(revised)
Shiki Kukai, Jan. 2012