Global Haiku • Fall 2016
Dr. Randy Brooks

Crumbling Bricks

by
Owen Pulver

To me, haiku can be written about just about anything. From sports to nature to a random guy on the street, I write about events and sights that intrigue me. I chose the title Crumbling Bricks from this haiku:

crumbling bricks
broken windows
school’s out forever

The inspiration for this haiku came from the many former school buildings that are no longer in use. These buildings have some of the grandest architecture around, and were once the pride of their towns. Now they are just a shell, rotting as time passes by. This is an example of how a simple observation can inspire a haiku. I hope you will enjoy reading my work. ~ Owen Pulver

Reader's Introduction

As a student that is not in the haiku class, I had never been exposed to much haiku before I read Owen’s collection. Though short, his work seems to get right to the point and he is able to paint a picture with few words. My favorite haiku is:

scuffed leather
torn laces
my first mitt

As a baseball player, I like this haiku because it relates to me. Mementos like a first mitt or bat hold a special place in a player’s heart because they symbolize how far we have come. From that little leaguer using a cheap dollar store mitt to the college player wearing the nicest Nike uniforms. I enjoyed Owen’s haiku.
~ Anthony Bryan

About the Author

Owen Pulver is a sophomore Biology Major from Dwight, IL. His haiku are written mostly about things he experiences and observes in his everyday life. In his free time, Owen enjoys playing sports, hunting, and fishing.

Saturday morning
a wet nose
my alarm clock

popcorn bag
blows across
the empty drive-in theatre

lonely apartment
boil water
add ramen

homeless man
shaking his cup
a trembling hand

beers with my buddies
all happy
to be home again

rich man walks
down the sidewalk
steps over a homeless man

tiny dorm room
decorated with
a tiny Christmas tree

lonely bleachers
I sit and remember
my last game

angry roommate 
he lost his kill streak
in Call of Duty

I shake the box
of milk bones
she comes running

hanging out the window
wind blows back
his whiskers