haiku stringlengths 5 2.3k | source stringlengths 1 74 |
|---|---|
main street
a red pick-up cruises
the spring rain | tempslibres |
traffic jam
a flight of geese
across the highway | tempslibres |
first light
an unknown bird
sings me awake | tempslibres |
darkened church
she teaches her grandchild
to light a candle | tempslibres |
Ash Wednesday
this is the year
he'll quit | tempslibres |
thin crescent . . .
I wonder what
she meant by that | tempslibres |
packing up the creche
one of the wise men
is missing | tempslibres |
cold moon
a carriage horse trots
up Sixth | tempslibres |
cold moon
the glitter of city lights
in the river | tempslibres |
thin crescent
she closes
the curtains | tempslibres |
whistling kettle
snowflakes
in the wind | tempslibres |
cold rain
lavender neon surrounds
a sex shop window | tempslibres |
twentyfourseven
an empty laundromat
at dawn | tempslibres |
overtime . . .
through an office window
the harvest moon | tempslibres |
a night of fireflies
and cricket song . . .
the end of summer | tempslibres |
rain on the lake
turning down
the volume | tempslibres |
where do I
put the accent --
Hiroshima | tempslibres |
brookside
whales are roaring
in a poem I read | tempslibres |
sudden shower
cursing the umbrella
he left at home | tempslibres |
mother's day
something sexy
for his wife | tempslibres |
war news
I wash the ink
from my fingers | tempslibres |
rainy night
a light in
the bookstore window | tempslibres |
wiping his eyes
before the lights come up-
sad movie | tempslibres |
winter sunset
shadows of branches
climb the fire escape | tempslibres |
January walk
Santa Claus and a flag
in a neighbor's window | tempslibres |
my friend's ashes
heavier than I expected
winter wind | tempslibres |
home for a visit
the sound of rain
on the river | tempslibres |
low mass
the old priest believes
more than he remembers | tempslibres |
new year's party
the divorced couple
leaves together | tempslibres |
midwinter
the coffee drinker
sips tea | tempslibres |
morning rush
reading Walden
on the subway | tempslibres |
election day
revising the poem
one more time | tempslibres |
fog moving in
another phone call
unreturned | tempslibres |
summer rain
my umbrella
stays closed | tempslibres |
early summer
old women in the shade
of the bus shelter | tempslibres |
a boy and his dad
playing catch out back . . .
long shadows | tempslibres |
main street-
ribbons that used to be
yellow | tempslibres |
terminal . . .
his favorite ice cream
melts in the cup | tempslibres |
spring morning
those young men have noticed
what she's not wearing | tempslibres |
old western --
black hats white hats
in shades of gray | tempslibres |
spring rain
a man standing outside
the bus shelter | tempslibres |
snowflakes
a robin's flight
from tree to tree | tempslibres |
serving coffee
she asks if I take cream
the curve of her wrist | tempslibres |
waiting for you
at the sidewalk cafe
half moon | tempslibres |
chemotherapy-
she always liked the way
I kissed her hair | tempslibres |
undulation
of a faded flag-
autumn afternoon | tempslibres |
streetlight
my shadow growing
fading | tempslibres |
do I know you --
my young face looks to me
from an old photo | tempslibres |
torn shades
of dilapidated house
crocus blooming blue | tempslibres |
from train depot
multicolored umbrellas
streaming along misty streets | tempslibres |
between pages
a frayed recipe
in my mother's hand | tempslibres |
from basement window
the underside of sunflowers
striped deep-colored veins | tempslibres |
before we crest
the sand dune’s tip
the question … | tempslibres |
it’s only a tree
it’s only my horizon—
rip of a chain saw | tempslibres |
helicopter seeds
crash land—
graduation day | tempslibres |
my mother in the mirror
dividing my hair
for braiding | tempslibres |
she drank
to remember
why she wears lipstick | tempslibres |
mid-autumn
our kitchen windows fog up
as the sauce simmers | tempslibres |
pausing between
rain showers—
summer solstice | tempslibres |
left to simmer
the kettle shrieks
until answered | tempslibres |
slice by slice
the pie disappears—
blueberry stains | tempslibres |
lunar eclipse
the weight of
another’s shadow | tempslibres |
the burnt-out
apple tree blooms
rain drops | tempslibres |
that shade of green--
the first fireflies clenched
in small hands | tempslibres |
tube station ...
the homeless man still
in yesterday's news | tempslibres |
city traffic
ants in and out
of a sparrow | tempslibres |
shaking the stone from her shoe -
a white opal swings
from between her brown breasts | tempslibres |
one hundred views
of the sunrise -
appartment block | tempslibres |
winter twilight -
she studies the face
in her mirror | tempslibres |
winter rain...
she places his flowers
in the second-best vase | tempslibres |
fading light -
a red leaf bouquet
at the smallest grave | tempslibres |
spring rain -
as the doctor speaks
i think of lilacs | tempslibres |
false dawn
sometimes i still
think of home | tempslibres |
first frost -
a twirl of yellow leaves
as the bus passes | tempslibres |
plasma tv -
in high resolution
the homeless man's face | tempslibres |
sparrow song--
two ladies on the verandah
just before the rain | tempslibres |
summer wind
the blue jay's reflection
in the birdbath | tempslibres |
a drunk asleep
on the beach--his mouth
open to the sky | tempslibres |
the ant
wanders across the floor . . .
meditation room | tempslibres |
family reunion
I stir tea
with a fork | tempslibres |
first snow--
sour cream drops
in the borsch | tempslibres |
summer moon
visits the attic and touches
father's journal | tempslibres |
subway to work
the scent of meditation
on my sweater | tempslibres |
birth certificate—
water damage
on my name | tempslibres |
in the space
of an om . . .
countless raindrops | tempslibres |
echoing
in the cup . . .
winter prayers | tempslibres |
subway air . . .
my wife and I talk
about adoption | tempslibres |
pranayama—
the candle goes out
as it lights another | tempslibres |
midnight . . .
scent of the incense stick
burning itself | tempslibres |
subway transfer
the homeless lady
sells mirrors | tempslibres |
between two
decrepit buildings—
poplar in late evening light | tempslibres |
death anniversary—
a curl of incense smoke
stuck on the ceiling | tempslibres |
I watch someone
watch someone else
the promise of rain | tempslibres |
bare hill—
broken glass sparkling
where the sun moves | tempslibres |
summer storm . . .
I push the beetle
back on its feet | tempslibres |
predawn
a grey dove outside
my window | tempslibres |
solstice
a shaft of sunlight
through rock | tempslibres |
rainburst--
thoughts of you
fading | tempslibres |
straw hat -
flowers fading
under the sun | tempslibres |
Spring rain-
I sit looking
out the window | tempslibres |
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