The theme for week 15 of the Haiku Dialogue was “A colorful insect.”
I ended up writing this:
late spring
counting the spots
on a ladybug
The theme for week 15 of the Haiku Dialogue was “A colorful insect.”
I ended up writing this:
late spring
counting the spots
on a ladybug
The theme for week 14 of the Haiku Dialogue was “an old flower pot.”
It took me a while, but I managed to come up with this:
shattered flower pot
I sweep up the last shard
of spring
The prompt for Week 13 of The Haiku Foundation’s Haiku Dialogue was “An exotic spice.”
I came up with this:
allergy season
I ask for extra
wasabi paste
longest day
an extra syllable
in the rooster’s crow
I wrote the above haiku a while back and it was accepted for publication by Shamrock Haiku Journal. To my surprise and joy, I just found out that it’s a runner-up in their 2018 Readers’ Choice Awards.
Every issue of Shamrock is always packed with great haiku. Read their latest issue here!
model plane kit
a piece missing
from my childhood
I wrote the above haiku for The Haiku Foundation’s most recent Haiku Dialogue. The theme was “a hand-me-down toy.” The purpose of the dialogue is to explore the possibilities of the medium of haiku. Check it out here!
lone glove
why am I still
holding on?
My haiku, as seen above, is being featured in a Haiku Dialogue by The Haiku Foundation. Lots of great poets contributed. Read all their work here!
A new haiku of mine is featured in the latest issue of The Heron’s Nest:
raindrops
one memory slides
into another
You can read the rest of the issue here!
I contributed to one of The Haiku Foundation’s recent Haiku Dialogues. The theme was “Avalanche Risk.”
Here’s my haiku:
avalanche warning
my father clears
his throat
Read the full Haiku Dialogue here!
Issue #40 of Shamrock is now online! Three of my recent haiku are featured in the issue.
You can read them here!
The Arts Council of Appling County recently held its first poetry contest. My poem came in second!
Here it is:
Most Insincere Form
Photographs of snow do not melt.
No wives are widowed by paintings of soldiers.
My echo is more talkative than me
And my shadow’s taller.
The lovers I meet in my dreams
Are gone by sunrise.
And not a word on this page
Was handwritten.
The man in the mirror
Reflects well on me.
Such insincere imitation
Must be flattery.