Haiku and Senryu 1

Haiku

Rosy eye closing

beneath purple and red lids–

Fall’s bruised horizon.

As the oak leaves turn,

Nature orders, “Curtain up”–

cue this year’s third act.

Blackbirds harry Hawk 

from their leaf-bare maple home.

Hawk humors them though.

Eyes watch in hiding 

as we walk through red forest;

they fear us; we, them. 

The searchlight full moon

wore a veil of windblown cloud—

a November bride

Chains of starlings stretch,

shivering, from pole to pole—

roadside rosaries

Wind carries the cry

 of coyotes' prey brought down:

White doe runs away.

Senryu

His locked box opened,

she gave flame to his desire—

scarring a true heart.

“I’ll never hurt you,”

Angel carved into his heart –

A promise unkept.

“I’d never do that,”

The angel professed to me –

They all do, in time.

Gratefully, I taste

her Chinese tea and oranges –

Not Suzanne, but close.

In whose image, first,

was the other created—

Man’s god or God’s man?

Hot coffee and gin 

kept him warm every night. 

Anger kept him hot.

Over at dVerse Poets Pub today, my friend Gay Reiser Cannon is discussing poetry forms. She's a treasure house of poetry form knowledge, often beyond my skills. But today she is discussing the form with which I started my journey as what might be called a poet.  That is the Japanese short form style of haiku and senryu.  I've called it writing inside a warm, tight hug. After argued with myself for a while (a frequent exercise that I inevitably lose, one way or another) if I should post any of them on the blog, Gay helped me decide once and for all.  I'll love playing at this form until I can't breathe on a page anymore. That's what they are, my small poetic respirations, how I start each day.