Global Haiku • Spring 2009
Dr. Randy Brooks

Unfinished

by
Jennifer Godwin

I used this title for my collection as a tribute to all things left unfinished in one's life such as relationships, work, school etc. It is sometimes a daily struggle to get through this thing called life and we each have many things that we leave unfinished, either by choice or not. I began this semester mourning the sudden death of my father, whom I had not spoken to in many years. Our relationship was unfinished to me. I used haiku as an outlet and a way to get in touch with those deep rooted emotions.

his last wish
only ashes
…to remember

black cloud—
planning the trip
to say goodbye

As I lingered in sadness, I began to understand the need to move on and find out what was important to me. The limited word use in haiku made me focus on including only what was really important. That theory also applies to life. When things get overwhelming and many things are left unfinished, focus on what is most important and the other things will fall in line.
I have included a selection of haiku that were favorites of the class and one's that spoke to me personally. The true measure of a good haiku is it's timelessness, it's ability to be read, memorized and spoken over and over again. I have enjoyed the class immensely, especially the ability to write with my fellow students and for them to appreciate the hard and thoughtful work that I have tried to put in each and every one of my haiku. To them and those who may read this in the future, let us all embrace things unfinished.

black cloud—
planning the trip
to say goodbye

blowing out the candles
she wishes . . .
for one more year

candlelight flickers
in the shadows
her faith tested once more

first funeral
hand-me-down suit
two sizes too big

snow becomes
less enchanting
. . . with age

rainbow tile—
she steps on only
blue ones

yellow points of light—
we play connect the dots
with the stars

Journey

misty morning—
seeking refuge
under the weeping willow

      teardrops fall
      from the leaves

moss-covered gravestone                 
cloaked in shadows
sits forgotten

memories—
a lost love
never returned

      elderly hands
      cling tightly to the cross

donated bench—
the widow watches
moments from her past

by Jennifer Godwin and Emily Weible

Jennifer-1, 3, 5
Emily-2, 4, 6