haiku stringlengths 5 2.3k | source stringlengths 1 74 |
|---|---|
piano practice
leaves swirl
allegro con brio | sballas |
scudding moon
a starfish holds fast
to the hull | sballas |
neck
& neck??
geese | sballas |
first names
no longer in fashion
weathered headstones | sballas |
between roots and branches
centuries
and a child's swing | sballas |
autumn wind
i take what i want
of the apples | sballas |
october fest
too much oom-pah-pah
in the mustard | sballas |
leaves in the wind . . .
this time
i let him go | sballas |
godless month
a double rainbow
spans the mourners | sballas |
first snow
cascading through cedar
a woodpecker's call | sballas |
olive sea
i disappear into another
gray day | sballas |
too late
to call him dad
autumn leaves | sballas |
autumn sunset
the flutter of the sail
as it loses wind | sballas |
pale moon
my childhood gone
with her last breath | sballas |
baby photos
from my birth mother . . .
how do i say hello to me | sballas |
lame doe at dusk
shifting the weight
of my day | sballas |
mom's ashes pass
through airport security
autumn evening | sballas |
first night of fall . . .
most of the moon
spills through the leaves | sballas |
another dream
about the otherworld??
pressed flowers | sballas |
old postcard
a steamship voyage
on a stamp | sballas |
skin
is all i know of me . . .
distant thunder | sballas |
desert motel . . .
opening the door
to starlight | sballas |
screened window
the full scent
of jasmine | sballas |
heirloom roses
she crunches eggshell
into the black loam | sballas |
beads of rain . . .
raspberries holding on
to summer | sballas |
near the horizon
a wave forms
"touch me there | again" |
moonflower
a love letter
to captain kirk | sballas |
city alley
the heart of an iris
holding rain | sballas |
building thunderhead??
the white hydrangea
touched with blue | sballas |
morning walk
the stranger's dog
knows my scent | sballas |
pock
of tennis balls??
the heat | sballas |
summit
a gnat's weight
on my nose | sballas |
swallowtail
maybe i?ll
say yes | sballas |
sagging porch
my conversation
with a stray dog | sballas |
home run
moths swarm
the floodlights | sballas |
longest day
rolling each awning
out to its limit | sballas |
bottom of the canyon
a brochure
of spectacular views | sballas |
doll house??
my daughter changes
her mind again | sballas |
far from home
she puts a shell
to my ear | sballas |
summer stars . . .
an actor's bow
sweeps the pool of light | sballas |
morning tide
the seaside town
smells of breakfast | sballas |
valentine's day??
thawing a wild salmon
from the supermarket | sballas |
winter solitude
another long night
where things left off | sballas |
awkward silence
a guest pinches
a sprig of lavender | sballas |
spring dusk
a turtle laying eggs
in railbed cinder | sballas |
looseknit sweater??
the spring wind comes to me
in a thousand ways | sballas |
deep winter
i hang my shadow
in the closet | sballas |
romance ends
pot-shaped clods of dirt
on the compost pile | sballas |
scent of guava
a glimpse of my youth
in the fruit aisle | sballas |
the softness
of lamb's ears
garden for the blind | sballas |
sudden winter
the press of cold metal
against the paper gown | sballas |
holidays over . . .
change from someone's pocket
between couch cushions | sballas |
no desire
to talk it through
first moon of winter | sballas |
this way and that
winter sun
in a rabbit's ear | sballas |
stark tree limbs
a cyclist i see
every morning | sballas |
another new year
the reek of gunpowder wafts
on the cold night air | sballas |
hunger moon
the many shades
of snow . . . | sballas |
a wren at sunrise
it seems too early
to write of death | sballas |
stark tree limbs
i have nothing
of my hometown | sballas |
raging blizzard
the gritted teeth
of jumper cables | sballas |
scent
of raked leaves??
an old wound | sballas |
autumn sun
the man on a bicycle
hugs his pumpkin | sballas |
autumn twilight
i tell the hostel
we?re almost there | sballas |
black fingers
in the dough
a hint of winter | sballas |
a faint chance of snow
?the right money moves
for the year ahead? | sballas |
autumn woods
my son and i
not just dna | sballas |
halloween
the white cat's
black shadow | sballas |
the sky
gray with voices
late geese | sballas |
shorter days
my medicare card
arrives in the mail | sballas |
emptying the trap . . .
a pumpkin seed between
the mouse's teeth | sballas |
sun-filled eddy??
a swainson's thrush sings
an upward spiral | sballas |
turning tide . . .
a barnacle waits
on a limpet | sballas |
first drops
a frog syncopates
with the cicadas | sballas |
same as it was
when we were cavemen
the moon | sballas |
dry september . . .
water gurgles
in my fish tank | sballas |
returning home??
i cross to the cricket's
side of the road | sballas |
mossy creek bank
the days when i could be
anything | sballas |
a butterfly
in her cupped hands
end of summer | sballas |
misty morning??
lingering smell of cattle
in abilene | sballas |
cicada song
spanish moss dipped
in sunlight | sballas |
a first kiss
on the edge of summer
sand in my shoe | sballas |
family picnic??
my son runs a finger
over his birthmark | sballas |
approaching storm . . .
a fluorescent swimsuit
on the clothesline | sballas |
high desert
the weathered rock
gives up a shell | sballas |
scent of her hair
wave after wave
touches the shore | sballas |
bullfrogs croak
in the river
women harvest stones | sballas |
migraine??
the red fan opening
fold by fold | sballas |
"with a little rain
"
the color returns | to a stone |
carving emoticons
in ice cream . . .
lonely town | sballas |
octopus
i already know
the way home | sballas |
winter solitude
the elevator speaks
to me | sballas |
blowing snow
i learn the secrets
of the wind | sballas |
winter sun . . .
the soft flicker of waxwings
in the firethorn | sballas |
taking a left
when i should have gone right
spring drizzle | sballas |
spring moon
her tippy-toes bring her
that much closer | sballas |
a red fox
appears disappears
winter wind | sballas |
all day writing poems . . .
the sound of paper settling
in the bin | sballas |
a flutter
in the doe's flank
crocus in snow | sballas |
good friday . . .
walking to confession
in worn shoes | sballas |
moon-washed garden
wondering what became
of the tailless thrush | sballas |
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