Meredith Lee: Haikus
- fragile bone structure
she did not take the fall well
dislocated love
~
when picnics attack
the artist and his lover
painting killer bees
~
mothers in trouble
a responsibility
too big to handle
~
grey aging woman
no children to care for now
mourning her husband
~
old men thick glasses
looking at the world too close
distorted image
~
a conversation
both listening and missing
the unspoken words
~
cold bowl of jello
glistening in the full sun
later it is gone
~
jacaranda tree
drawing a flock of birds near
singing limbs of green
~
a young blade of grass
the meadow is full of them
each a sensation
- Copyright 2000, Meredith
Lee
Sandra Ulbrich: Haikus and a Short Poem
Diamonds and Air
I walk through diamonds
Where others see only air;
This is a problem.
Spring Thunderstorm
First spring thunderstorm;
Through lightning and heavy rain
I heard a bird sing.
Sunday Time
Sunday morning rose like eternity,
With time for omelets and toast.
Golden leaves without numbering
Fell in the fall forest,
And the sky was as blue as forever.
There was time for it all,
Even time for each other.
We needed no watches
On waterfowls' schedules.
Why did Sunday evening
Return us to mortal time
And the accelerating heartbeat
Of desperately wasted hours?
- Copyright 2000, Sandra
Ulbrich
Aviva Rothschild: Short Poems
What I Did on My Summer Vacation, 1991
Part 1: In Big Thompson Canyon
"Climb to Safety in Case of Flooding"
A sign for goats
not fat tourists from Denver
swigging soda pop in the car
Whipping round curves
Dad suddenly slows
curses the clods from Kansas
obeying the law in their swaying RV
Part 2: Afternoon Dilemma
Fifth tornado warning of the week
sirens howling over Aurora
but laundry is wrinkling in the dryer
and I have to hang my shirts
Part 3: Orange Tabby at 3 AM
I wake suddenly to find
sixteen pounds of cat on the blanket between my legs
as immobile as a boulder
and I need to pee
Copyright 2000, Aviva
Rothschild |
