Solitude Haiku [On the Third Day of NaPoMo]

let us now pray
for short people with no one
to reach the top shelf

sitting on a rooftop
hugging knees

silent morning
awakened by the sounds
that aren’t

closing eyes
seeking faces forgotten,
sadly failing

what void
holds the millions

[Since it’s National Poetry Month (NaPoMo,) I’m trying to do a different form each day. So far: limericks, a sonnet, and haiku. If you know of any obscure forms, I’d be glad to hear of them, because I don’t think I know 30 flavors of poetry, presently — relatively short form, of course, I don’t have the time or skill to do an epic narrative in a day. (Though micro-narrative will certainly be a thing.)]

Flowering Haiku

hectic sidewalk
frangipani blossoms
stepped over

calling bees
scent, color, and glory

the hillside
when rhododendrons bloom
shangri la

for two weeks
the valley flowers,
its spell cast


purple circle
rings the base of a tree
regal shadow

Falling Water Haiku

thunder yon
Zambezi rafting
greenhorns beware

water wind-misted
plume-zone green

terraced hill
rice paddy cascades
depth perfection

dry season
murmur to trickle to
fall-less falls

level rising
the overspill rolls
pulling drops

Desert Haiku

offset prints
bisected by tail drag
lizard sign

gnarled driftwood,
snake skin, rusty barbed wire
in red sand

cold morning,
the rising fire ball,
a silent knell

red sandstone
warmed by the rising sun
gorge aglow

yon mirage
mirror-clear blue,
chase the lie

Agriculture & Nature Haiku

grazing sheep,
loitering head down;
what awes them?


rice terraces,
disguising man’s order
in nature’s green


ripe wheat,
bobbing in a breeze —
sea-like moves


on a range
that stretches beyond sight
but not mind


tea plantation,
a snake slithers through
amid the pickers

Mysterious Sight Haiku

shaman staring
out into the distance
a world away


hawk on the roof
twists its head, pointing
one eye groundward


cow head fixed
as a raucous world screams —
blind or unmoved?


what’s it like
to have one’s blind spot
to the front?


the sad moment
when baby’s smile is found
to be fart fueled

Fateful Crossing Haiku

on a fence rail,
i saw a scorpion —
dead, but menacing

a dog nudges
its dead companion,

after life,
no one contemplates the

grasping the sword
like nothing depends upon

when you accept
that you, too, will be food,
death holds no sway