her prom dress
h a n g s
near her coffin

Amy Van Rheeden (3)

their laughter
their jokes
my scars

Amy Van Rheeden

This haiku seems to emit pain. I wonder if the author is referring to childhood "friends" aka bullies. The haiku shows a real sense of lingering pain. Carol

I see them
crashing against concrete
rain drops pour

lightning strikes
flooding
the spider from her home

final PERFORMANCE
played on a practice field
with lost friends

he wins our
word game with
silence

Amy Van Rheeden (4)

the stars tonight
Einstein's theory of relativity
coming back to me

sadness
I see his picture
in all the photo albums

Classic games and
Viking Metal
homework due in an hour

my closest friends
surround me
crushed by their weight

Nathan Halteman (2)

a phone call—
futile attempt
to recapture the past

after dinner fortune cookies
one short
how unfortunate

Rick Bearce (7)

I thought this was fabulous. I love the word play and the dry wit it has. Fortune cookies do seem to lose their purpose if there aren't enough to go around. Carol

boiling ball
in the sky
his ice cream melts

musty apartment
smell of cologne and dust
. . . reminds me of you

under the pavilion
watching the rain—
the barbecue is over

sheets of rain
smell of wet cement
refresh me

two weeks past
still
no victory

a sterile room
undressing quickly
caked in delousing powder

John Wright (3)

Meditation
during
PoPro

 
my father broke                   his fishing rod

Goli Rahimi (3)

evening stroll
feeling winter's first chill
in my fingertips

JNCO jeans and pink thread
pulled by a short needle
the picture of masculinity

hidden sunlight
underneath a thick blanket
of fluff

homework to do,
dishes need washing—
        just a short nap . . .

wandering mind
terrible thoughts
of homework

Carrie Seymour

Who am I
I am lost
I decide that I’m found

Independence Day:
his own
apartment

Amy Van Rheeden (2)

the hallway:
voices console
teacher's tears

Amy Van Rheeden (6)

he
lies in hesitation
the I no longer exist

plump lips parting
to touch
Another’s

sunlight and dust
dancing
on the cat's sleek fur

Carol Colby

I really like this haiku a lot. I like the contrasting images the first line brings, then the verb of the second line. The last line is my favorite, giving the sun and dust a context and imagining how it is moving in the air on the cat’s fur. I like how the fur is described as sleek rather than fuzzy or dusty. I imagine a cat with gray fur and the sunlight is showing the moving dust particles in the air. Carrie

the distant rumble
shakes the fence
near the tracks

cool chocolate drizzling
splotches of brown
on our chins

flying overhead

win ngs of b l u e and y e l l o w
angels on Earth.

dead of night—
struggling to stay awake
on one hour of sleep

John Wright (3)

stars shining
I find comfort
. . . at last

our song playing
lingering thoughts
but you're gone

I like the form of this haiku. It makes me sad. The song playing in the background reminds me of someone who lost his/her love. Their song is playing in the background. Amy

moon rising
above the plains
illuminates the scarecrow

my own silverware
for each meal.
Maybe I AM OCD . . .

Friday morning—
I reach for my eyes
to close them again

Goli Rahimi (4)

slight screeching
carried by the wind
hayrack ride

lean in the doorway
the train glides by . . .
morning cigarette

Carol Colby (3)

surrounded by fallen leaves
just me and
a caterpillar

on that step
an ant
never truly alone

Missy Brassie (2)

This haiku perfectly captures the concept of a “solitary moment.” Some haikus focus on freezing a specific moment in time, and this poem does precisely that. One can actually see the single ant atop a cement step, surrounded by trees and gardens and people and other creature, never truly alone. It’s a good haiku. Goli

alone on the haystack
illuminated
by the moon

Carrie Seymour (2)

fall afternoon
the basketball game
put on hold by the leaves

dusty sweatshirt
whistles and cheers
on an autumn night

Missy Brassie

I really like this haiku, because it reminds me of an old sweatshirt that I wore in high school or something. I like the idea of how a piece of clothing can bring back memories and ideas to place that used to be so familiar. Carrie

library
4th floor
world by myself

AJ Burse (5)

children lean over the edge
of an old wooden bridge
empty creekbed

Ryan Hosler (4)

an orange leaf
falling
landing at my feet

apple cider and quiet
dream prayers
sleep for hard work

in the lobby
reading a book
getting hooked

labor day:
he moved my hair
our first kiss

Amy Van Rheeden (2)

Alone
hot chocolate, TV, and new Vogue
good night

Carol Colby (2)

wrapped in skin
unseeing eyes
Couch Potato

Carol Colby (3)

This haiku made laugh; it is such a true description. I especially liked the similarities between a real person as a couch potato, and the actual vegetable – wrapped in skin (whether it be flesh or rough brown coverings), and unseeing eyes (the person’s eyes glaze over, and a potato has fake “eyes”). In addition, I enjoyed the capitalization of Couch Potato, it made the word very unique and the center of attention. Goli

hayride crawling
cold chill
I pull the blanket tighter

water ripples
under the Brooklyn Bridge
it dawns on me

Ryan Hosler (5)

I sit quietly
somewhere in the distance
burning leaves

golden path . . .
the sun
follows

after the funeral
grandma’s Jesus picture
still hanging by the door

apple pie
scents the house
early dessert

JP Moyemont (4)

tall and green
apricot breeze
through my garden

Goli Rahimi

alone on the bleachers
watching a game
played in my head

alone in the field I turn
the scarecrow
g l a r i n g

roommate—
whistling a tune
I don’t recognize

clock ticking
the land between
darkness and dreams

Missy Brassie (3)

The idea of this haiku is fascinating. It reminds me of those 5:00 AM thoughts between sleep and wakefulness. I also like the alliteration in the last line, and the repetition of the “t” sound in “ticking” and “between.” Amy

crunching leaves
raked away
revealing a grave

looking out
during class—
winter will soon be here

homecoming dance:
i was a freshman
afraid of holding tight

Amy Van Rheeden (4)

neighbor’s kid
raking my yard
leaves a bit to be desired

fallin leaves . . .
a stretch
and the day begins