Katie Burke

EN340 / IN350 Global Haiku Tradition
Dr. Randy Brooks
Spring 2005

Katie Burke

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kasen renga: Wednesdays

Anita Virgil's Haiku of Truth

ME, IN A NUTSHELL
A collection of Haiku
by

Katie Burke

Oftentimes, I have found myself in peculiar situations. This colletion of haiku is about those strange experiences in one's life that define them. Most of the subjects of the haiku were derived from past experiences, occurances that I was present for, or situations that could and would most likely happen to me. Since my life turns from humorous to tragic quite quickly, please feel free to laugh and cringe simultaneously.

Reader's Introduction

Katie Burke is my friend. I am writing this introduction not simply because she asked me, but because I truly enjoy her haiku. Katie's haiku reflect her personality and approach to life. Some of her haiku are humorous or light-hearted, while others are serious and deep. Some of my favorites are:

secret burden
she takes a walk
through the park

droves of drunks
piling into pubs
one bites my shoulder

Katie's haiku have variety and warmth. Her personality comes through in her writing, and I hope you enjoy getting to know her through her haiku.

Rachel Walker

stuffing, turkey, and boyfriend
downcast eyes
my dad grunts

alone against the gym wall
green satin gown
wilts

twinkling christmas lights
winter burdens
cured

outhouse walls exhale
wind blows
across the ice caps

soft hum of the generator
silence covers me
like velvet

the perfect fit
pieces of the puzzle
lips embracing

bubbly pancakes tanning
orange juice reflects
our droopy eyes

first date
food wedged
in his braces

air conditioning broken
kitchen chair
sticks to my thighs

chocolate silence
the hectic morning
passes me by

spring ball
i sit in the stall
mascara running

young mechanic armdeep
in the car's girth
his face twisting

uniform balled up on the floor
fan caressing her skin
a sigh of relief

Good Friday
solemn incense
chokes the congregation

on his deathbed
Grandpa's promise
to attend my wedding

last week of class
the wind ruffles
my cotton skirt

cleaning day
i read my
old, dusty diary

ME, IN A NUTSHELL A collection of Haiku by

stuffing, turkey, and boyfriend downcast eyes my dad grunts

alone against the gym wall green satin gown wilts

twinkling christmas lights winter burdens cured

outhouse walls exhale wind blows across the ice caps

soft hum of the generator silence covers me like velvet

the perfect fit pieces of the puzzle lips embracing

bubbly pancakes tanning orange juice reflects our droopy eyes

first date food wedged in his braces

air conditioning broken kitchen chair sticks to my thighs

chocolate silence the hectic morning passes me by

spring ball i sit in the stall mascara running

young mechanic armdeep in the car's girth his face twisting

uniform balled up on the floor fan caressing her skin a sigh of relief

Good Friday solemn incense chokes the congregation

on his deathbed Grandpa's promise to attend my wedding

last week of class the wind ruffles my cotton skirt

cleaning day i read my old, dusty diary

ME, IN A NUTSHELL
A collection of Haiku
by

stuffing, turkey, and boyfriend
downcast eyes
my dad grunts

alone against the gym wall
green satin gown
wilts

twinkling christmas lights
winter burdens
cured

outhouse walls exhale
wind blows
across the ice caps

soft hum of the generator
silence covers me
like velvet

the perfect fit
pieces of the puzzle
lips embracing

bubbly pancakes tanning
orange juice reflects
our droopy eyes

first date
food wedged
in his braces

air conditioning broken
kitchen chair
sticks to my thighs

chocolate silence
the hectic morning
passes me by

spring ball
i sit in the stall
mascara running

young mechanic armdeep
in the car's girth
his face twisting

uniform balled up on the floor
fan caressing her skin
a sigh of relief

Good Friday
solemn incense
chokes the congregation

on his deathbed
Grandpa's promise
to attend my wedding

last week of class
the wind ruffles
my cotton skirt

cleaning day
i read my
old, dusty diary