Poetic Form 85: Haiku Sonnet

Shoveling

February storm --

Snow, white and knee-deep calls to

be cleared from the drive.

Sirius watching

daughter and me disturb the

calm of the snow cover.

Sun falls silently --

Shovels grind against concrete

gathering piles.

Snow like sweet sugar

turns to cirrus clouds when I

launch it to the sky.

The constellations join the

street lamp to light our smiles.

Poetic Form #85: Haiku Sonnet

The rules of the haiku sonnet are four 3-liner haiku plus a couplet of 

either 5 or 7 syllables adds up to 14 lines, the number of lines found 

in a sonnet. For this poem, I used the 5-7-5 syllable structure (more like a Senryu).

Poetic Form 81: Haibun

 A Father's Gift

A man, shoulders soft from time, stands next to his child, who is now taller 

than him. The man holds a box, a gift, for his son. Wooden, carved with 

calligraphy of the past. The box is heavy in the man’s hands. His son lifts it 

with ease. They smile; one is bright, the other scarred. In that moment one 

can feel time shift in the son’s favor. The man’s chest falls and rises through

earthquakes of memories. The son opens the box to find,

fall leaves ---

crumbling on to

his path

 

Poetic Form #81: Haibun

The haibun form combines a prose poem with a haiku. The form was popularized by the 17th century Japanese poet Matsuo Basho. The prose poem and the haiku communicate with each other in some way. The prose poem usually sets a scene in an objective manner. The haiku follows the rules for haiku.

Poetic Form 5: Haiku

June wind angry--

I watch the trees

bend away from me

Poetic Form #5: Haiku

This is my attempt at a traditional haiku from the guidelines provided at Haiku World.

Thrid Collection of Very Short Stories

Here is the third collection of very short stories... a couple of these need to be expanded.

"What if we are on the last line of God's #haiku?" she asked. Her mother put down her pen. She had been writing her weekly letter to her own parents. The quarantine was now into the third month. She looked at her daughter, green eyes hoping. "It was a beautiful poem." #vss365

 

He #organized the love letters into shoeboxes. Each card placed in the envelope with the crease at the top. Placed in the box by date. Funny, there were no letters since 2016. He placed the shoeboxes into a packing box with the divorce papers. He had enough for postage. #vss365

 

The #Armada Township in Nebraska was busy that day. The Miller Community Center was packed. The parking lot filled with mostly trucks, but a few tractors. The President was on the radio. Only the soft cooing of a child was heard when the world went back to war. #vss365

 

"Dad, can you dance?" "I can do the #Robot." "What is that?" "Play some music... and watch this!" After a minute he sees that the room is empty, but can hear the laughter from the other room. He continues anyway, awash in memory. #vss365

 

"May I have a #word with you?" The little boy hung his head walking to the corner of the playground with his teacher. What had he done this time? He felt like everyone wanted a word with him. He resisted the urge to run. "That was an awesome throw!" He smiled for once. #vss365

 

The lights. The stage. The microphone. The paper filled with words not #spoken. Her hands trembling. Her pain and beauty screaming to be heard. The audience waiting to be knocked over with her voice. She coughs and opens her soul for the world to hear. #vss365

 

He couldn’t get a #spark from the lighter. Panic set in. He felt around him for some stones, something. It was day 88 of the darkness. He tried to slow his mind. There was a rumble building behind him. He couldn’t tell if it was them or just the world falling apart. #vss365