Global Haiku • Fall 2019
Dr. Randy Brooks

Inspiration Sparks

by
Meghan Hayes

for those who spark inspiration

Author’s Introduction

This year has been a particularly memorable one. My entire world changed in a few months and I took charge of my own happiness. I did not know what to expect when taking a class on the art of haiku, but I did not expect it to change me the way it did. Never before had I successfully used poetry to feel my feelings. It was always a matter of getting bored halfway through a sonnet. But haiku gives me a way to preserve how I feel at a particular moment in time, in a short amount of words, and I am able to look back and experience those feelings again. That is what brings me joy. This collection of haiku, Inspiration Sparks, showcases my life through the past six months and all of the new experiences I have had. I have experienced heartbreak, learned how to rebuild myself, and met people who have given me new outlooks on life. Enjoy this journey of mine.

With love, Meg

Reader’s Introduction

What lies before you is an overflowing handful of poems, each the size of the palm of your hand. Each one tells a story of affection, growth, sorrow, and amusement. The words, bundled close together as if they are huddling for warmth, mean something special to the author. If one may choose, the small collection of words could also mean something to the reader. What that “something” might be is entirely up to them.

Ryan Huling, University of Wisconsin – River Falls, Future Educator

About the Author

Meghan Hayes is a sophomore Musical Theatre major from Rosemount, MN. Meghan is new to the art of haiku but has fallen in love with it over this semester. She would like to thank her parents, Lisa and Tim, her brother, Robbie, and her boyfriend, Ryan, for their love and support.

flour falls
through my hands
onto an empty plate

cold coffee
my cup is chipped
so am i

walking past
the places we went
cold wind

doors held open
it’s never felt
like this before

dropping the last picture
in the flames
his name burns

a simple statement
from your lips
stars shine brighter

his lips on mine
the fermata held . . .
symphonies

dim light
I feel your hand
graze my cheek

sunday morning coffee shop
hands holding on
for dear life

playing tag in the
middle of the store
he and I are young again

slipping on stones
as we cross the river
you catch my hand

Mississippi River
much larger than
the last time I saw her

so deep in conversation
we don’t notice
the biker on our right

mid-afternoon coffee date
I ask her how
she got that scar

hot coffee
you say my name
it grows cold

inspiration sparks
your lips
on mine

do you trust me?
asks his eyes
I leap

I knew it was true
ever since the love songs
became about you

cold morning
his silhouette
three millimeters    from mine

frantic city streets
his hands
glued to my waist

annual Christmas party
he waits for me
under the mistletoe

heading out the door
I turn to say goodbye—
you’re no longer there

morning dew
says hello
through my socks

yellow moon
our favorite
third wheel