Haiku Attempts 02

Global Haiku • Millikin University • Spring 2020

wilted flowers
in a glass vase

daffodil greens
snow is coming

Mom definitely just
threw out
the dandelions

forgot my crescent wrench
now I just want
a crescent roll

food on the table
everyone together
bon appetite!

the plastic pool
wasn’t always
this small

the flower vase
hasn’t been occupied
in years

hey mirror
do I look okay?
I’m talking to you!

back and forth

extra scraps
piece by piece
stich by stich

I reach down and
grab my pencil
finger prick

endless curving
around and around
the Tennessee mountains

the patch of snow
dirtied with footprints

pieces of sidewalk
kicked in front of me
I play catch up

I reach
for the coffee grounds

dead leaves
linger a little longer
on small limbs

wet trail
puppy potty training

days of molding
tired clay
she falls apart

Sara Bareilles plays

candlelight flickering
the smell of vanilla
your eyes

sandal tan lines
I feel the grass
on my toes

I paint
over our memories
but you're still here

the Warmth . . .
chatter gathering
throughout the house

faded paint
on the mailbox
neighbors I’ve never met

passing by
looking down at my feet

something about
the sunshine
I feel at home

memorial bench
littered with cigarettes
in honor of . . .

picnic table
etched with hearts
and swastikas

rumbling ground
I sprint
to avoid the train

keep climbing
the mountain

a black man
learning to love himself
crazy, right?

cars passing
honks honking
sound to my ears

in my garden
I got the juice

hammock in the trees
eyes closed
feeling the sun on my face

blacktop trail
sun shining through the leafless trees

the brick house
a home
away from home

I miss her
the sun
warm on my face

all the ice
massaged by the sun

hair a mess
running late
sorority house

walking by myself
on a trail . . .
birds chirping

buffalo chicken dip
in my stomach
Super Bowl Sunday

clear white board
no moreĀ 
plans made

turned off
Black Mirror






gifts in closest

early mourning
we revisit life
at grandma’s house

picking up speed
to touch the horizon
and then the next

I sit in the booth
and order for us
remembering you never showed

a ray of sun
warms my cheek
like your hand once did.

down the hill
now again!

from far away
stacked on top of each other
green roofs

a mirror hovering
over a pothole
it'll be gone by morning

early morning
she calls my name
will you take care of me

coffee in hand
barely awake

the fog gathers
round the empty field
I wait

a breeze through a window
pages turn
wrapped in another story

the smell of coffee
a new morning

footsteps taken
across the globe
she walks

house quiet
alone at last

a feather
blowing through the air
no destination

a woman in black
brushes snow
off the family name

slick steps
morning coffee
on a white blouse

opening the fridge again
expecting to find
something different

at the kitchen table
the dog
sitting on my feet

seeping tea
the mug
in my hand

mid-day yawn
we still have all the time
in the world

facing the sun
but somehow
I cannot warm up

puddles all around.
obstacles or

a heavy envelope
in the mail box
not for me

close to comfort
in this oversized sweater
tears and all

the honeymoon
plain ticket
never used


the sound of a sigh
for something untouchable

© 2020, Randy Brooks • Millikin University
All rights returned to authors upon publication.