This is a little haiku conversation between me and my husband John. I brought my notebook to breakfast this morning and asked him to swap haikus back and forth this way.
Hot enough to burn
Thick coffee chocolate mocha
New “gold” of the West.
Our morning pattern
A habit of hot mocha
A bagel, cream cheese.
Caffeine addiction
No, that’s not me. I can stop
Any time I want.
Sure you can. Just like
I do not need sugar joy
To be happy, complete.
Us, sitting, sipping
We could stay all morning long
If not for work-time.
Long windy highway
Scree-ing tires, bad drivers.
My morning commute.
I wrote these little poems last night in bed. John laughed when I read them out loud.
A Tanka poem (it’s like a haiku, with two additional lines of 7 syllables each)
Smoke curls on water
My robe falls on barren floor.
Ice, cold, cool, tile shines
Scent of mangoes, strawberries
I submerge into bubbles.
–
Some haiku:
You can hear him purr
A thousand miles away, more,
Over the phone line.
–
He dreams of mountains,
Light-weight titanium stoves.
The redwoods beckon.
–
A backpack so light
Like wings of crested eagles–
You wear a feather.
–
And these poems are not about my life, but are rather about people I know:
Impossible girl
With impossible wishes
Pikas– and delight.
–
This one is a triolet. Usually, my triolets are humorous, like this one or this one. However, a triolet can also be serious when there’s an idea that bears repetition well.
I’m over you, dear.
Can’t you see I’ve stopped crying?
Those are not wet tears.
I’m over you, dear.
And my vision now is clear
Now that we’re no longer trying.
I’m over you, my dear.
Can’t you see? I’ve stopped crying.