Darkness is my end. /
There is no empty god –/
Only the moist fear.
Tag Archives: Thursday
Haiku to you Thursday: “Darkness”
Darkness is my end. /
There is no empty god –/
Only the moist fear.
Filed under 2016, Haiku to You Thursday, poetry by author
Haiku to you Thursday: “Clamber”
Dark forest, empty trees /
Fog clamber over brown hills. /
Fall evening lives on.
Filed under 2016, Haiku to You Thursday, poetry by author
Haiku to you Thursday: “Churlish”
Lumpy, churlish clouds /
banging against the horizon, /
bloodied by the sun.
Filed under 2016, Haiku to You Thursday, poetry by author
Haiku to you Thursday: “Bruised”
Bruised, you come to me: /
flowers darkened into night, /
love purpled by regret.
Filed under 2016, Haiku to You Thursday, poetry by author
Haiku to you Thursday: “Clouds”
Heat builds through the night,
in weather and in desire:
clouds of rain and sweat.
Filed under 2016, Haiku to You Thursday, poetry by author
Haiku to you Thursday: “Specters”
Parking lot specters,
swabs of color under lights,
form toward their day’s work.
Filed under 2016, Haiku to You Thursday, poetry by author
Haiku to you Thursday: “Autumn’s fingers”
Back into darkness
again falls early morning.
Autumn’s fingers grip.
Filed under 2016, Haiku to You Thursday, poetry by author
Haiku to you Thursday: “Places”
Fear lives in those places /
where hope has died and love /
withers in the sun.
Filed under 2016, Haiku to You Thursday, poetry by author
Haiku to you Thursday: “Passing seasons”
Winter, quietly. /
Summer, intensely. /
Fall and Spring, without regrets.
Filed under 2016, poetry by author
Haiku to you Thursday: “Tastes”
Without your whisper /
my ear hears only stale words. /
Summer tastes empty.
[Editor’s note: This is a variation on the Haiku posted last Thursday, entitled “Silence.”]
Filed under 2016, Haiku to You Thursday, poetry by author
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