Flying Away

pinkTrailPaulGilmore

(Credit: Paul Gilmore on Unsplash)

 

Above, a contrail

Paints a pink line in the sky

Are you on that plane?

 

Advertisements

I Hear You

WashingUpCattLiu

(Credit: Catt Liu on Unsplash)

 

Washing up alone

Scraping off dry pizza cheese

I hear you humming

 

The Sculptor (7 of 7)

sculptor-kiss

(Credit: From ‘The Sculptor’ by Scott McCloud)

So many want love

Even from total strangers

Earning it is rare

 

 


All ‘The Sculptor’ haiku are inspired by the comic ‘The Sculptor’ by Scott McCloud

The Sculptor (6 of 7)

sculptor-embrace

(Credit: From ‘The Sculptor’ by Scott McCloud)

He caresses stone

To him the curves seem warmer

Than any woman

 


All ‘The Sculptor’ haiku are inspired by the comic ‘The Sculptor’ by Scott McCloud

The Sculptor (5 of 7)

sculptor-fall

(Credit: From ‘The Sculptor’ by Scott McCloud)

Is there time enough

To show the world your sculptures?

You have a lifetime

 


All ‘The Sculptor’ haiku are inspired by the comic ‘The Sculptor’ by Scott McCloud

The Sculptor (4 of 7)

The Sculptor_1.jpg

(Credit: From ‘The Sculptor’ by Scott McCloud)

Clay under his nails

Morning light stinging his eyes

Night thoughts made solid

 


All ‘The Sculptor’ haiku are inspired by the comic ‘The Sculptor’ by Scott McCloud

The Sculptor (3 of 7)

Sculptor-sculptures

(Credit: From ‘The Sculptor’ by Scott McCloud)

Giving shape to dreams

Flighty moments in granite

Now they are timeless

 


All ‘The Sculptor’ haiku are inspired by the comic ‘The Sculptor’ by Scott McCloud

Tap Tappa Tap

Rummaging through some old poems again, I found this one, which I found rather sweet.

Tap tappa tap

Music plays

A breeze blows

And he taps his feet

 

Chirpy chirp chirp

She whistles

Dark clouds gather

And birds sing in the bushes

 

Drip, drip, patta patta pat

They laugh and seek refuge

Hair clings

And the rain comes plunging down.

In a Cold Iron Box

I found an old poem today which mentioned a cold iron box with a porcelain lock, and I really liked that image. It made me write this little poem.

Iron-box-creative-iron-com

(Credit: creative-iron.com)

In a cold iron box

With porcelain locks,

I kept my most terrible secret.

But time broke the locks,

And rust ate the box,

And now I don’t know where to keep it.

 

I could ask the bees

Or maybe the trees,

But the leaves would whisper to the wind.

And just like the trees,

Every one of the bees

Would tell, and by you I’d be skinned.

 

Life Stirred (4 of 4)

Tired-david-cohen

(Credit: David Cohen on Unsplash)

I should appreciate it when life stirs

I should take the opportunity to whisper in its ear

Or let it stroke my hair

But I really need my eight hours of sleep

%d bloggers like this: