Amy Van Rheeden

PACE Global Haiku • Fall 2006
Dr. Randy Brooks

Amy Van Rheeden

Selected Haiku

by
Amy Van Rheeden

Writing haiku has become a refuge for me. For most of my life, I’ve either lived in the past or in the future. As I began writing haiku this semester, I started appreciating the present moment more than I ever had. I hope you enjoy reading these haiku as much as I have enjoyed writing them.

the playground . . .
we used to swing
together

he has one trophy:
the cross necklace
from his grandpa

the fan hums
into
deep sleep

a caterpillar
moves
the sidewalk

he wins our
word game with
silence

her prom dress
h a n g s
near her coffin

independence day:
his own
apartment

the hallway:
voices console
teacher's tears

labor day:
he moved my hair
our first kiss

homecoming dance:
i was a freshman
afraid of holding tight

even the
prairie landscape
has no cleavage

the widow has
his portrait
across from her chair

the artist's forehead
wrinkles—
the line's still crooked

five years ago
he called me beautiful
in broad day light

car ride...
her hand
on my leg

praying together
for his new job
. . . our thanksgiving

winter night—
friends share
a bed

pi x radius squared—
the area inside
a wedding band

another lesson:
scraping ice off
coach's windshield

© 2006, Randy Brooks • Millikin University
All rights returned to authors upon publication.