Haiku Kukai 4

Global Haiku • Millikin University • Spring 2019

training wheels gone
all up to me—
look mom

permit in hand
papers all signed
DMV number 109

twisting and turning
to no avail
tooth fairly coming soon

hearing your voice
lips of an angel
makes me weak

grandma's vines
baby tomatoes
eaten like candy

windows down
wind in my hair
music blasting from the radio

blind date
meeting for the first time
my parents

passport
filled with stamps
need another one

Christmas
on the farm
the extended family

evening mist
a melancholy night walk
through the park

Polar Pop
filled to the brim
with bad decisions

late night phone call
broken up
he needs time to find himself

swimming lesson
a kid asks to play swords
in the locker room

cast party
her confession in the woods
haunts me

across the room—
she locks eyes with
the one who got away

the baby’s cry
a father
trying his best

mountains of homework
. . . might as well
refresh my pinterest feed

childhood friends
first dance at prom
the last I've seen of her

mirror, mirror
on the wall
. . . another gray hair

dawn breaks
through the blinds
. . . I guess I’ll get up

church play
old ladies murmur—
a Korean Joseph

very last parking spot
waiting
just for me

little girl's first funeral
new black dress
she learns what a soul is

a wrong turn
a habit
i can't break

sound of bongos
her violet dress
twirls and soars

windy night . . .
the vibrations
of a gentle snore

cosmic brownies
and tea party sets
meme’s house

saturday rain . . .
an elderly man plays
solitaire

sweat suit the color
of blueberries
my first television debut

ring pop proposal
the only way I see myself
married

acoustic guitar
strapped over your back
never brave enough to kiss you

a stepping stool from coffee can
bloody red gash appears
on her calf

easy listening . . .
light rain
against fallen leaves

well well well
just your best friend
right?

tiny pebbles always layer
the bathroom floor—
cat litter

grass stains
the young couple
intertwined on the Earth

loved you like a sister
but sisters don’t
betray one other

sheepish teenager
stares at her peers
fly on the wall

grey sky
her hand
falls away

baby boy
crawling on the floor
his beer belly

sorry sister
he had a new one
over again last night

gone to the desert
i’m glad
he doesn’t call

dad said Dumbo
was for babies—I flew anyway
what a dumbo

 

 

 

 

 

open casket
grandpa's after-shave
fills the air

that smell
that brought me back
grandma's house

told to pick
one kitten . . .
I pick two

sick to her stomach
first trimester . . .
can it be over yet?

antique car
cat tracks up and over
the dust

he calls my name
I sit up
at his funeral

laying in the truck bed
gazing up above
duck—mom ahead

guitar's brass strings
breaking the silence
his cancer

thinking of the way
to say this out loud
—I love you Jenny—

I hold your hand
we talk about
our time long ago

double dog dare
bite of the flower
poison

laying on the floor—
looking up
for a glimpse of the future

two horses, three dogs, and a pig
I think I am falling . . . for
the farmer’s daughter

the lines curve and cross
i feel the coldness
of your tombstone

late night
knock on the door
      your girlfriend would be pissed

Christmas Eve pajamas
my favorite
family tradition

on the counter
slowly appearing . . .
two pink lines

French braids
the little one’s
hair

Friday night out
maybe
I’ll find the one

eyes closed
seeing you again
after all these years

a friend's backyard
alone in the tent
our little secret

holding your hand
this breath . . .
your very last

new teeth . . .
i smile
after two years

only child
not anymore
thanks mom and dad

valentine’s day. . .
the day
that hurts the most

graduation day
are you still proud of me
. . . in heaven?

gloomy day
cars follow
as we say goodbye

therapy never ending
softball injury . . .
it's over

little kids
out in the rain
jumping puddles

baseball outfield
the tickle of grass
on my bare back

a home run
high fives
with strangers

toes touching the water
stillness
of the summer lake

november
our love will not make it
through the winter

easy morning silence
thinking of you
wind chimes

a touch of your hand
STOP
I flinch away in pain

shattered vase
no amount of glue can hold
missing pieces

old country—
a boy listens to
grandpa’s stories

harvest moon
I think back when it shined
on our love

Oklahoma mutton-bustin'

the city kid
yee-haws like a pro

friday night lights
    first kiss
        in the baseball dugout

nighttime road
one lane lit by
our happiness

© 2019, Randy Brooks • Millikin University
All rights returned to authors upon publication.