Rengay Kukai

Global Haiku Tradition--Rengay Kukai, Spring 2007

Oakwood Drive

rain puddle
green leaf turns brown
below the surface

small child runs
footprints in the grass

red dirt dries
turned to hardened clay
midsummer heat

teenage girls
sunning themselves
itsy bitsy bikinis

yellow stream
released from the dog
along the bushes

mothers push strollers
ice cream covered babies


First shot bitter..Where's my chaser?
Second-- apathy-- continuance
I lost count how many was that?

women everywhere,
smell of cigarette smoke, loud music

can't drive home anymore
need a place to stay
That girl is sexy

a few more drinks
evens out the buzz

Why is he looking mad ?
His girls talking to me
He and I can take it outside

swollen, cut fists
Too much to drink


the sun sets
lighting bugs appear

late night at work
she looks at her rough hands

the bees
creations in the hive
a hint of honey in the wind

open eyes in the dark
the boy stares at the moon

nocturnal life
the cat
tips the vase

foot steps in the silence
mom cuddles next to me

Distant Looks and Memories

morning spring mist
from the stem of thorns
a rose

young girl dances
around the flower

a woman’s cries
from the lone window
neighbors whisper

the small grave
on a fresh cut lawn

an old couple sways
to classical songs
ah, to be in love

looking back
on a secret affair

The Skyline

watched it on the news
seen it countless times
still horrific

feel compelled
to visit the site

such a big city
so much to see and do
one person—so insignificant

magnificant skyline
now scarred and disfigured

streets bussling with people
buildings reaching to heaven
now gone . . . forever

families view it with dispair
while their memories live on


Speaking of the silent
Beauty in you

of a Sunday afternoon

The living room flickers
From the tube
And our chemistry

Infinite thoughts of tonight
Soon to be the end

The phone will ring
A new ring tone

Delight by an open door
My imagination

Solo Rengay

an empty elevator

with no one inside
I step in to see all the buttons pushed

sticky fingerprints
on all the buttons
I think it is ice cream

the wrapper
laying on the floor
Baskin Robbins

thirty one different flavors
most taste generic

people’s wallets

[Note: the hokku for this rengay comes from the Haiku Anthology, by Jack Cain, page 21.]

Pale Morning

dead of night
the woman remains
at her corner

glued in the warm tar

the bum
attempts to collect them
still penniless

sing a song of six pence
baking bread

the sleep peasants
entering the streets

under the weak sun
we bustle
for nothing


early morning waking up
just to see the sunrise
birds singing all around

staring so long
I feel dizzy

grass filled with dew
butterflies get stuck in
illuminated cobwebs

I feel so bad
for these beautiful creatures
the spider's lunchtime

smashed by the shoe…

the guts are spattered
on my soul
…can’t wait for the night

Out with the Old

barber glances -
children spinning
on plastic stools

draft blows hair clippings
across the floor

broken pencil -
an unfinished
crossword puzzle…

the floor sticky
from hairspray

aging hands grasp
rusty scissors

the eviction notice
comes untaped

Waiting . . .

she sits and waits
no thoughts escape
due tomorrow

the soft buzz
of the waiting room lights

she itches with anticipation
the Big bite
her tummy

thinking to herself
how do bad things
happen to good people

an accident by choice,
she grows up so fast

at the funeral
she sees her sister
becomes her daughter


her reflection
stares back at
a stranger

his eyes heavy
like her heart

the pond water--
muddy and unclear
a reflection inside

the raindrop ripples
distort our faces

unable to move
the rain falls
soaking our souls

the only indication
I still exist

Her Bouquet

coming home to plastic flowers
on the table
she locks the door

hidden from the world
by a lack of spark

her solemn thoughts burst
into one small tear
a lighthouse

seeing fire across the room
he awakens

through the ocean of people
their eyes lock
but she withdrawns

a small gesture
he brings a single flower

16 inches

The seagull beats its wings
Gliding through the air—
The ball falls out of bounds

The batter waits
As the pitcher tenses.

Choke up on the bat
Take a deep breath
And swing

The ball connects
And is sent soaring once more.

Rounding the bases
Counting them in my head—
The smell of peanuts catches my nose.

The vendor tosses food to the crowd
their stomachs shall be fed.


Early morning waking up
Just to see the sunrise
Birds singing all around

Staring so long
I feel dizzy

Grass filled with dew
Butterflies get stuck in
Illuminated cobwebs

I feel so bad
For these beautiful creatures
The spider’s lunchtime

Smashed by the shoe

The guts are spattered
On my soul
…can’t wait for the night

Solo Rengay

Rain pours
Opening the screen door
She calls, “Max, get in here”

Muddy paw prints
Spread on the tile

Feelings of anger rise
A once clean floor
Covered in dirt

Max greets his anger owner
“stay off”
Kisses on the cheek

Anger turns to laughter
The rain stops

She realizes
Even in the rain
Her best friend

Pool Hall

over the din
smoke curls beneath

gliding... the ball sinks
into the corner pocket

holding the cold beer
no one
hears their song

slinky red dress
drinking ... clinging
to her new companion

in his eyes the smile
of her father

last call
stumbling out
leaving a mess in their wake

Afternoon Tide

sun baked sand
the seashell washes away
and back again

the wind lifts your hair
I watch you smile

seagulls fight
a lone whitefish
forgotten in the old net

the wave comes in
and fills our footprints

yellow striped awnings
enclose the porch
eggsalad sandwiches for lunch

the small child
naps in the shade

The Holiday

cold wind
they nap off
the Easter ham

candles burn low
burnt cinnamon

the half empty
bottle of wine

snores invade
and mix with laughter

tea kettle whistle
hands touch
under the table

a fork hits
the wooden floor

Time Off

back again
sliding doors open
storm approaching

hours roll by
channel 31

I change into
a backless gown
cold draft

counting backwards
I lose consciousness

connected to tubes
and determined to walk
rain on the window

wheeled to the door
clouds departed


lit cigarette
she opens the window

stars burn above

ashes hit the
dark road
deer crossing

hooves hit the pavement
moon hovers

an owl swoops
and collects his prey
late-night snack

pine tree scents
in the air


© 2007, Randy Brooks • Millikin University • last updated: April 16, 2007
All rights returned to authors upon publication.