Million Haiku March

1.

the tortoise in the garden
now you see it now you see it now you see it
now you don't

2.

one pelican crosses
the last slice of sunlight
toward summer night


3.

a morning so cold
the car must be pushed
downhill

4.

in the eyes of the fly
many moons
in the sky only one

5.

summer night-
fireflies spark
children's laughter

6.

morning mist
contains the break of waves
little else.

7.

sleeping under the stars
ancient pictures I cannot see
constellations

8.

halo'd moon
misty promises
threats of rain

9.

All things become clear
in the blur
of good beer

10.

The kitten is hiding
in that circle of old fur
coiled sleeping on the couch

11.

        lips moving
        outspoken prayers
        inside silence

12.

lips moving
filling with discontent
empty mind

13.

moonlit beach
two sets of footprints
both mine

14.

the cat curls up
in a too small box
content

illuminates the beach
reflects on the water
moon light

spider web
after a night rain
a woven constellation

reading haiku
enjoying the idea
of a cat named Spot.

rushing through the desert nite
toward the moon
and my mother

on my approach
crows combine voices
in urgent caws

same sun
shining
day or night

new mown grass
the smell
a deep sigh

haikai, haiku, hokku
the Zen master chokes
on his morning tea

freshly dug garden
leaning on the shovel now
hearing cicada's

reading haiku
the words become clearer
new glasses!

a gull swoops
a pelican dives
both come up with a fish

a clean seagull
in clear water
distant storm clouds

note
now silence
note

one breath
launches a hundred seeds
dandelion

dog chasing scents
leftover from night
day dawns on him

sun peeks over the houses
erasing shadows
I see the light

following his nose
through the morning air
dog coated with sunshine

rice wine and meditation
more changes
than just a name

masters learn
students teach
one classroom

the musician breathes
music
through bamboo flute

hugging a fallen tree
inching my way
over the rapid stream

quivering lips
kiss me goodbye
first day at preschool

on the hilltop
the Maharaj-ji's mansion
financed by false prophets

1 white and 19 gray
seagulls roosting
and me running

they don't seem to realize
that I'm just passing through
nervous seagulls.

seagulls floating
on a cushion of air
I can't see

I don't see myself
-reflections
in a muddy pool

the receding wave
shifts the sand
she watches her toes closely

the receding wave shifts
the sand where she stands
she wobbles slightly

the child stands still
at water's edge
each wave a surprise

a wave rolls in
a wave rolls out
she stands still

with the wave
the water disappears
until I step on wet sand

seeing dark clouds
I prepare for a storm
that doesn't come

toward twilight
the sun sets faster
than I run home

the long-necked bird
eyes me closely
not the only loon on the beach

from this side
to the far side
a man-made bridge

I run uphill
toward the sky
now down

until I had run aways
I couldn't see the clouds
over my house

the setting
four palm trees
one sun

jet trails
feathered and merged
with clouds at sunset

night rain
cars' exhaust
visible breath

[here is where
the haiku would be
if I could write it]

night rain
streaked face
through car's rear window

gray dawn -
silver outline
of hidden sun

mother sleeps
in hospital bed
just beyond my reach

mating bugs
outside the window
seeking the light

blown here and there
in synchronized flight
butterflies mating dance

blue flame
of bug zapper
sizzle of wings

children capture
a firefly in a jar
see no more tonight

firefly in daylight
brown bug
no glow

pipline on the beach
dredge sucking up sand
lost from the shore

temperature 85
humidity 85
sweatrings on a new cap

leaning against a stone wall
forehead cooled
silent barrier

3 lines
on the side of a truck
commercial haiku

one pelican
black
against the sun

the outlines of the islands
are obscured by smog
again today

in the dying light
I close my book
accidentally pressing an autumn leaf

a fallen leaf
accidentally pressed
in my half-read book

in the fading light
an autumn leaf
is my bookmark

I explained
he laughed
radar cop

early Spring
on a bare tree
a new leaf

bones rattle in the diviner's hands; bamboo stand
Created /Updated )
You're the haikuist to march through here.