Haibun Attempts 2
Global Haiku, Fall 2016
iced-ringed branches When I was a senior in high school, I broke my foot on several different occasions. I remember finding out the second day of my senior volleyball season and having to go to St. Louis to get a walking boot. This was the beginning of a long period of misery that my foot would bring me. I originally broke it over the summer playing volleyball. A tall middle came down on my foot, and I remember being in a lot of pain. I played through it and convinced myself that I was fine and the pain would go away eventually. Well, fast forward to the start of my senior year, and I am left with a broken foot and out for several weeks. Given how important sports are to me, this was heartbreaking. I jumped at the first chance to get out of the boot and start playing again which just so happened to be a few weeks early. Again, I told myself I was fine, and the pain was only in my mind. I played the rest of the volleyball season that year. The very last game of the season I reinjured my foot…in the exact same spot as before. This brings me to the beginning of the basketball season. I was supposed to be the returning starting point guard, but my foot had other ideas. After severe pain following the end of volleyball season, I went to get my foot checked out again. It was broken once again. This time, the doctor put me in a hard cast rather than a walking boot. It was brutal. I wasn’t able to drive, my foot itched all the time, showers were impossible, and I had to use crutches to walk. Around this same time, it started to get cold outside and some mornings it would be very icy or snowy. After getting out of my car in the student parking lot, I started my trek to the back door. However, I did not see the patch of ice that was right before the elevated sidewalk. As I went to hop up to the walkway, my crutches flew out from under me, and I landed on my butt with a hard thud. Embarrassed and in pain, I called my dad, who just so happened to be the principal, and told him what happened and that I was going home. heartbreaking news ice covered paths wooden ruler learning to drive Allyson Isenhower |
grandfather's old boots Swede, AU, 62 This haiku reminded me of my grandpa and his old sweatshirt I got to keep after he passed away. My grandma was cleaning out the room of his things and wanted each of the grandkids to be able to keep something of his. I picked out his sweatshirt because it still had his scent on it. It smelled like peppermint. The scent stayed on the sweatshirt for a pretty long while. I wore it every now then whenever I missed him, it was really nice putting it on and smelling his scent. It was as if he never left, but then the scent began to wear off. Wearing it brings back a lot of good memories. his old sweatshirt her presence still warm my father Alyssa Rodriguez |
xxxxx Andrew Cliatt |
after the rainstorm Swede, AU, 16 I remember being in the aftercare school program in my middle school days, I would spend a few hours there after the day was over. My mom was about 20 minutes away as the assistant principle of an all girls high school. We had the option to play inside or outside after school and I would always pick because I’d always have a few rogue friends who would walk back to school and play soccer or some kind of sport. So one day we were playing outside, and a pretty bad storm came up. We all were directed to go inside, and were instructed to follow the tornado drill protocol. The sounds of all of the children running through the halls to get to safety reminded me of the sound of the storm. deion after school tears of younger game winning goal Deion Corley |
xxxxx Elizabeth Pillow |
xxxxx Helen Wells |
children's day at the zoo Swede, AU, page 101 Back in 2015, I joined an organization in my community. In this organization, we would do community clean ups, organize community events and host some events in the city. One particular day, we organized a zoo day and we took all the community children to Scovill Zoo in Decatur, IL. I was in charge of taking care of the children. So, my group members, the community kids and myself visited the zoo. Although, I hated going to zoo because I had seen all these animals' numerous times in my life but I had to go because it was my duty. The kids were so excited to see all the different types of animals. The children enjoyed their day so much that they didn't even want to go back home. Unexpectedly I also enjoyed so much, it just reminded me of my kindergarten days. The happy smiles, mimicry of the monkeys, jumping in the air and what not-all of these gestures just reminded my old school days. It's so sad, we all grow up so fast and become adults. Those innocent, happy, tension-free childhood days vanish away so fast. first day boo that typical smell Jesal Sheth |
Growing a body of ants fish head Swede, AU, page 26 This takes me back to summers at the lake. Spending hours on end at the dock. When the bites weren’t sinking, or the shade wasn’t sufficient, moving to the rocky shore with shade and washed up fish carcasses. Finding moving piles of black in the shape of a fish. Yet surprisingly not smelling a thing. Me and my little brother would sit there for hours lines in the water, and watching the pile of black slowly fade, and bone start to show through. Roadkill Snake missing its head Fish out of water rocky shore Joshua Mysliwjec |
cold dawn rain Swede, AU, 53 Longer Memory Response: This Haiku relates to my life simply because I’m always freezing. It doesn’t matter if it is winter or summer or what the heat is set on, I’m still going to be cold. Whenever I’m cold, there’s only one thing that I want to do – cuddle with my boyfriend. Not just because I love him, but because he’s always warm. When reading this Haiku I feel a cool room or a cool day. I envision a husband turning around to put his arms around his wife to hug her. my feet are cold but I could not sleep Cold feet Kaitlyn Foster |
windless summer day Swede, AU, page 19 Every summer I go out fishing with a group of my friends. Our favorite place to go is the Taylorville Dam. The first time that we ever went was like we hit gold. You can stand on the slab of concrete and catch fish every two seconds. There are some large ones and some small ones. We would take our tackle box and a lunch and stay all day long. This particular day that comes in mind was the first hot day of summer after getting out of school. We loaded up the truck and decided to go out to fish. I had decided to try going out on the concrete without shoes on, which was a horrible idea. I ended up falling after the first step. After I put my shoes on, we set up little chairs on the side of the dam and began our peaceful day. slippery slope first real out sunburnt lines the river flows phone off Katherine Goethals |
empty baseball field Lexi Doss |
in one corner Swede, AU, page 82 This poem makes me think of my grandma. My grandma is currently living in a memory care unit as the nursing home in my town. She currently is suffering from both Alzheimer's and Parkinson's. She regularly recognizes my mom when we come to visit, but only sometimes does she recognize my sister and I. It feels like we are in a separate universe from her most days. Her nursing home smells of musty blankets and hand sanitizer, and the walls are a boring cream color. Inside her room it is dark, but she has lots of pictures of family members to help her try to remember who people are. Unfortunately these pictures do not help much. Morgan forgotten lost memories hospital scented Morgan Bettner |
xxxxx Rachel Humphrey |
sunrise Swede, AU, page 44 She was in the wrong. She had always been in the wrong. Every person I’d ask would tell me that the way she hurt me was terrible, and that I deserved better. But as I thought about every argument she and I had had, she beat me to a pulp each time. I’m good with words, but not on the spot. Each thing I write is concocted with thought, with careful consideration, and with maximum edits. But put me on the spot and you might as well just shoot me and send me to the morgue. So I looked from the outside. I took myself out of the discussion and devised a plan. Everything had to be structured, concocted with thought, no loose ends and no leaky holes—I only had one chance to talk to her, and to ask her why she cheated. She came to my apartment after I told her I was making dinner—she loved Mac and Cheese, and I knew there is nothing hostile or looming about the creamy, fatty entrée. I guided her towards the meal and away from any thought that something might be wrong. I realized when she was smiling over her Kraft-filled bowl that I held the gun, now all I had to do was pull the trigger. As clear as I could ever speak anything, I looked her in the eyes and asked, “Did you cheat on me last Friday night?” She didn’t react. “Hon, did you cheat on me?” “Of course not.” “I’m gonna ask you one more time—did you cheat on me last Friday?” Hoping she would tell the truth, I yearned for her response, but it seemed to never come. I knew what she did, but I wanted her to say the words to me—to finally make it real so that I could take her dish, put it in the sink and quietly ask her to leave. She put her fork down: “I didn’t cheat on you.” The lie hurt more than a broken bone, more than any pain I had felt, it took my thoughts and threw them out the window and I looked at her dumbfounded before practically going outside to regain my psyche until the words rose from my throat: “Get out of my apartment, we’re done here.” a hot dish warm sheets choking on my words Rory Arnold |
grandfather’s old boots Swede, AU, 62 This haiku really hits home to me in the midst of the recent passing of my grandfather. My grandfather and I always used to share all of the same interests when I was growing up. We would travel the country to trapshoots, we would go north to South Dakota to pheasant hunt, in which we took 1st and 2nd place in the trap shoot of 150 people. We found ourselves traveling every weekend somewhere to do something, but when high school came along I found myself way to busy. We didn’t make those same trips anymore due to sports and homework. But with this haiku I feel that I’m putting on the same boots I wore with grandpa when we did those things together. I feel that he and I shared a lot of the same passions and I have the power to keep his spirit alive by doing the things we did together. Also with this I can teach it to my kids and grandkids and they will remember their great grandfather for what he did for me. Hopefully when I get back to these activities, he’s with me. Ryan light whisper of direction over the shoulder, a sense of being the bang of grandpa’s shotgun Ryan McDonald |
alone at last Swede, AU, page 87 I enjoy this and it makes me think of times I don’t necessarily enjoy. I think about times when I have wanted to do something bad and didn’t want people to know. Then when I start doing whatever it may be (maybe smoking, or drinking, or something else effecting mental, you get excited but you really wish there was people are even though I was so happy to be alone. It also makes me think of home alone when he wishes he didn’t have to be with his family and then they left on vacation without him and he started out being happy but ended up changing how he felt as the movie went on. When the crooks were in his house, he wanted his family back. why am I alone Sad Live Ugly Images Travis Voorhees |
© 2018, Randy Brooks • Millikin University
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