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peterdawes β Haiku Collection - March
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Published: 2008-03-01 16:47:58 +0000 UTC; Views: 2056; Favourites: 17; Downloads: 19
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spring haiku-a-thon1. for denise
nose touching soft skin
drinking deep; erotic taste
do I smell perfume?
2. the reality of seasons
police sirens scream
a shooting down on broad street
springtime in philly
3. not from around here
explaining to an
out-of-towner what the fuck
is a mummers parade
4. the color red
lasting impression
crimson contrasts against white
lipstick on my collar
5. a frown at father time
admiring dusk
hours hasten onto dawn
nights grow short again
6. hard to write with it
skilled bladesman; sharp steel
sheath conceals the poet's pen
a martial artist
7. good evening, philadelphia
skyline horizon
sunset paints the canvas red
glowing city lights
8. solitary dining
candlelight and wine
rose petals and fine linen
she never arrives
9. unreliable meteorologist
spring ahead once more
no shadow for the groundhog
meanwhile, more snow falls
10. poetic distractions
words upon a page
paragraphs give birth to tales
busy writing prose
11. solitary poet
grasping for embers
hands clutching tendrils of smoke
the spectre of you
12. searching for warmth
restless dreamer wakes
hand slides across a pillow
nobody lies there
13. the forecast for tonight
drumming against glass
beats upon a window pane
rain taps out a tune
14. a daily lullaby
sound breaks the silence
steady pulse of cars and men
as the city wakes
15. in like a lion
schizophrenic month
first cold, then warm, then rainy
must be march again
16. a shared chuckle
scandalous rumors
glancing at another girl
a wink between friends
17. a deadly encounter
shiver down your spine
skin prickles under warm breath
a predator's kiss
18. not as glamorous as it seems
number endless days
ticking clock; no need to wind
immortality
19. what do march showers bring?
haven't seen the moon
eyes drift upward, rain falls down
dreary city streets
20. cigarette not included
artificial smoke
steam rises from parted lips
springtime commences
21. winter in the heart
melancholy wind
breeze blows past an old park bench
he sits there alone
22. a passage through time
empty corridors
stranger travels through the door
to fields of regret
23. to whatever god will listen
candle light within
a church symbolizes hope
day of renewal
24. musing upon haiku
blank piece of paper
words interplay with feelings
writing poetry
25. staying warm through the cold
hand upon my chest
body lying atop mine
my favorite blanket
26. catching up with you
morning of regret
nights full of wine and roses
bloody hangover
27. bah, distractions
impeded progress
real life prevents artistry
a late submission
28. scenes from fairmount park
diligent jogger
grace meets its mortal foe
tripped over a rock
29. dining with sharp teeth
sweeter than brandy
rivulets run down cool flesh
crimson sacrifice
30. the blue-eyed girl, in brief
ponytails flying
little legs sprint down the path
childlike innocence
31. parting, such sweet sorrow
a final poem penned
days of counting syllables
now come to an end
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Comments: 302
A bit more than last evening. I slept well today. That always seems to help the disposition.
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cali spring
brings
electricity.
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*chuckles* The city of brotherly love and the city of angels reach out and touch one another. Benjamin Franklin's gift to you.
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I saw symbolism for rebirth too. Lots going on in those few words. I like this one a lot!
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Thank you, my dear.
Rebirth. Very possible. Depends upon whose parted lips those are.
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"Hers" of course. Unless you have been pining for Robin all this time.
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*shudders* Oh good heavens, perish the thought.
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My umbrella sits oozing next to my desk as I type this. Two days of wet stuff now, so I could truly relate to this poem. drip drip drip
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Have we pissed off the gods? Should I start building an ark?
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I'll settle for a life raft for now.
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Only the finest life raft for you then, my dear.
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day 2
very good reminder of a harsh reality among all the indulgence in poetic praises to beauty of nature.
day 4
red lipstick mark against white collar. not just impressive, it's a branding on the heart too.
overall, you gives the impression that you'll do better in tanka. that is a form of japanese poem that dwells more on the emotional aspects.
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Yes, I believe you might be right. This is a new form to me, I must confess.
I set out to think of nature and springtime.
And wind up somewhere closer to human nature and city life.
After this, I do believe I will attempt more in tanka.
Thank you.
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congrat upon completion.
sorry about late comeback. now i have finished all the 31 entries of your haikuthon. still my last observation persists, are you also in this month's tanka writing?
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No, but I have been exploring tanka a bit more in recent days. I rather enjoy it.
Thank you.
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for us mortals, time marches on, eventually all across our faces!
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*chuckles* Quite so, I imagine.
Am not certain there is much of an advantage to having interminable days. Interminable days to do what?
I haven't found the greater purpose to this phase of my life, I suppose.
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Ah, very clever take on immortality. Then again, you would know, eh?
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Ah yes, a bit too well and gaining in knowledge day by day. . .
. . . by day by day by day by day by day. . .
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Springtime in Philly indeed. Duck and cover in the city of brotherly love.
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Great way to describe March...schizophrenic! 
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Entirely too much, said he as he shook the rain water from his suit jacket.
Glad you enjoyed.
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#3: i know what a mummer is (it's also what my sister and i called our mom when we were younger. she was our Mummers, and somewhat of a dork. 
#13: i like the rain at night, and the ozone smell right before it rains. that's a great smell.
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One of the rare few who know about the Mummers. The person inquiring of them to me was from New York and still hadn't heard of it. Only accentuated what an esoteric city this is.
That is a delightful smell, isn't it?
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i know!! i only wish it was around today since it was raining so much, but we did get a good picture of a woodpecker that likes the suet we put out.
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Not many woodpeckers around here. Quite a lot of construction crews, though.
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It's Philadelphia. If not construction crews, then road crews or general clamor from the city at large.
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Here's another one: Mukai Kyorai, after the death of his younger sister in summer.
Here in my hand
it faded away, sadly -
the firefly's light.
Now if that doesn't want to make you cry, what does. T_T
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That is quite powerful.
The shoulders of giants. This is why I retreat within open format so often. Who can convey these messages as effectively?
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Yeah, its tough to get so much into so little, sometimes its neccessary to just go off.
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Number 12 is potent.
Sharing time. Here's one by the most famous haiku poet, Matsuo Bashou.
He'll be dying soon,
but there's not a hint of it
in the cicada's voice.
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Thank you for sharing. Actually, a solid reminder of the flow of a haiku.
Have been penning lines.
Connected, yet separate.
Little sentences.
However one can
pen a simple story too
while they're at it.
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lets
space
out
our words
and
be
profound.
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and
Β Β Β Β space
Β Β them
out
Β Β Β Β Β Β Β a bit
Β Β Β Β Β too.
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and lonely are its children
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What came first, the haiku or the poem? Both are lovely and sad.
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The poem first. The haiku after a rather melancholy night. Not much sleep since then.
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Thank you, my dear.
A hope for better dreams today. Perhaps I'll get some sleep, then.
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