Haiku kukai 2

Global Haiku • Millikin University • Spring 2019

 

February
laundry overflowing
Christmas tree still standing

boss lady
high heels storming in
late . . . again

old sparrows
laugh to tears of
old stories

needles
in my arm
pine tree

boat sways
searching the water
for the little turtle

Starbucks
coffee grounds and cake pops
girls giggling

bass bellows
going down the street
jammin’

housewives
walking the neighborhood
another one moves away

dropped phone
on parking lot ice
shattered

superbowl sunday
snacks on top of snacks
food coma

running on empty
sunset in the distance
where am I

a mound of homework
oh no
. . . the pizza

the high hat clicks
the bass walks in
brown sugar baby

a blanket of snow
hugs the playground
silence

tacos on Tuesday
beers on me
no worries

hesitant smiles
we laugh
sharpening new pencils

birch trees
"big momma and big poppa"
etched into their trunks

happy puppy
paw prints
in concrete

clear quartz wrapped in copper wire;
protection spell
around her neck

parking lot puddles
hopping around
in my new shoes

afternoon nap
keyboard clicks
put me back to sleep

friday night
nothing to do
pizza man is here

class is cancelled
i rush home
to take a nap

goodnight call . . .
a whispered
i love you

messy lumps
in my bun
lazy day on the couch

ice crunches
under my boots 
walk to class

stuffy nose
chicken noodle soup
always her cure

late night
early morning
venti please

folk songs
the group listens intently
without devices

together
they run
in the park . . . alone

stage lights
pointing out every
imperfection

King Jeffery
walking the winding road
starving again

the blue
peaking through
snapping turtle of the sky

broken windows
i saw someone
in that one

muddy puddles
in the street
the opposite way I go

sunny day
cold air
the snow somehow melts

empty sidewalks
newspapers slide
from my finger tips

even when you are not here
dad
you are here

nervousness vanishing
turtles
coming out of our shells

one step at a time
I find . . .
your scarf

flowing brown locks
I found a strand
in my shoelace

wind blowing
a soft whistle in my ear
talk to me

kiss me one last time
call my name
thin red line

 

 

I loved you then
when chimes would speak
evening blue

your hand in mine
forever. . .
as snow surrounds us

cold toes
i stretch
for your feet

bread and milk
the roads
will get worse

freezing cold
wind gusts below zero
. . . i’ll stay inside

fresh highlights
replacing the hair
that belonged to you

rusty pocket knife
once grandpa’s
now mine

cancer smoke
crowds the hallway
can’t escape

driving home
passing memories
. . . it has been to long

tall and proud
even in the dark
cactus

Tagalongs and Samosa
stashed away
my little secret

peppermint
cool inhale
a first date

2 in the morning
roommate shuts his laptop
let's get food

first coat
of golden nail polish
smudged

late January
Christmas tree
finally comes down

home alone
i sing lullabies
to the dog

flat tire
Casey’s
famous for free air

car window down
bass blasting
reminding me of summer

Fairview park
head in the clouds
hello officer

beautiful sunny day
stuck inside
with my laptop

wings on the table
beer in our cups
gameday

picture window
on display
. . . my neighbors

open field
ducks have found
muddy puddles

said hello
to strangers
on the walking trail

people looking down
all the time
at their phones

glimmering colors
fill the room with warmth
stained-glass

water
i never finish
the whole bottle

porch talk
we discuss the coming
of better days

homework
i’ll finish that
. . . tomorrow

patiently waiting
schools cross the screen
snow day

snow on the ground
footie pj's on
movie day

rescue dog
walking across
my keyboard

hairspray thick in the air
i slip into
my tights

new dog
pees everywhere
except in the grass

frosted fingers
frozen toes
sledding success

best friends forever
key chain
reminds me

snow day
recreating
an old recipe

his smile only fades
when he takes a sip
of coffee

the wind
pushing against me
i’m in retrograde

red bird
cardinal?
my grandmother's presence

unwanted
thoughts of you
linger without permission

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