Tag Archives: poetry

Thursday Haiku – October 6, 2016


So hot. Too hot. Just
Yesterday? – Last week, month? – Now
Leaves fly on cold wind.


An Apology

I never like to fill my posts
with tales of woe. We all have those,
and most are worse than mine. It feels
like telling all of you to marvel
that weeds have sprouted in my garden
when your house, maybe, just burned down.

And yet, sometimes, some times like these,
I start to think I ought to say what’s kept
me silent more days than I speak.
So, here’s the problem: two weeks in
the hospital – no, no, not me,
my husband’s father’s sick. Today,
a gift: he hasn’t gotten worse.

And so, today, I write.

(Poetry 201: Write a poem containing a simile and the word “gift”; make an acrostic with the first letters of the lines, which I haven’t done.

But Dad really is hospitalized, and it’s difficult for everyone.)

Watching the battlefield

OldWavyGlassAntietamShielded from the world –
so strangely squiggly – we’re safe,
screened by solid glass.

(This is – at last – Day 5 of Five Photos, Five Stories. And at the same time, it’s Day 1 of Poetry 201; an alliterative haiku. Also, as asked, it has the word “screen” shoehorned within the syllables.

And, oh yes, about the title for the post: this photo was taken through the wavy old glass of a window that looks out over the site of the Battle of Antietam. On one bad day a bit over a century and a half ago, this wasn’t a screened, shielded, safe place at all.)


Fall Tanka – September 22, 2015

Summer. Gone so fast.
We wear long sleeves; we don’t swim.
No beach, no peaches.

We cursed your heat, but don’t feel
Hurt, summer; soon we’ll hate cold.


(A belated and close-to-home response to last week’s Where’s My Backpack travel theme.)

Three months now, and its been so cold.
So much cold. We’re tired of cold.
Spring should come soon, or so we’re told
But it’s still cold. We’re tired of cold.
But maybe there’s hope, at last, today.
Flowers are a good sign, they say,
Though crocuses bloom even when it’s cold.

Thursday Tanka: Snow


Silent lion shakes
His mane – scatters whiteness and
Strangeness, beauty, change.

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAThree weeks from now, we should see
Lamblike, fluffy, white – wait. No more!


Snow Haiku

It comes stealthily
All night, soundless. If you
Don’t look, you’ll miss it.

Tired tanka

You shouldn’t notice
Where your bones run. Muscles ache,
Shoulders, elbows, wrists.
Fingers, not to be trusted.
And yet more work still to do.

November Haiku

BareTreesDays grow short, shorter.
Air chills with lengthening night.
Leaves? They’ve all fallen.

A rhyming grumble

If summer weather stays late, we’re glad.
November in October, sad.
Dark noon, low clouds, wet feet, cold ears –
Enough! We need some tropics here.

*  *  *

It’s been a miserable day. Cough.