haikumages – Page 3

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Sumac, maple reds / first autumn brushstrokes from the / north country palette.
“It’s a quiet car!” / barked the man unquietly / glaring at talkers.
Humid holiday / cicadas lament loudly / from lofty perches.
A daddy longlegs / the harvestman, displaying / his spindly namesakes.
Express train passing / local which left earlier / to arrive later.
Why are the artists / both so beautiful and so / irreparably broken?
Pulling weeds left too / long, they release their seeds and / taunt me as they die.
A half shell / of its former self / since life left.
The clover / does not care if it / has four leaves.
The farce of July / our highest court violates / our independence.
A happy birthday / a celebration of life / not just elapsed time.
George Murray / poet, word-lover / and father.
If a man, like wine / gets better as he ages / I’m now drinkable.
Though not his / an old thing reminds / me of Dad.
Friday the 13th / a day for putting yourself / in the way of luck.
It’s fried day / end of the work week / for many.
Watching a pink cat / wondering what he’s thinking / as he gently snores.
Tree’s spring flower flung / by an unseasonable / and frivolous wind.
Cat making biscuits / on my belly rhythmical / in a trance-like state.
A long-dreaded task / taxing, inevitable / has been completed.
I heard the voice of / justice speak today but she / did not call my name.
Snow recedes / slowly revealing / the Buddha.
Big red heart secured / locked for its own protection / does that key still work?
A winter weapon / the Shovel of Damocles / hangs in the garage.
Searching for meaning / in Dad’s Poetry folder / I found none, but him.
Lovely icicles / remind us the house is not / well insulated.
Folding the laundry / a moving meditation / order from chaos.
F-word history? / Expletive NOT deleted! / A changing language.
New snow falling on / old snow, adding fresh insult / to my injuries.
Life full of promise / too soon emptied by death / the promise breaker.
Dawn colors / take a cloudless sky / from the night.
A chill wind / that blew nobody / any good.
Crime scene discovered / where mourning dove likely met / its feathery end.
A snow-raining day / weather unsure of whether / to chill or warm up.
Eyes, blurring with time / now lead me through life lived by / approximation.
As soon as the new / season finally arrives / we yearn for the next.
The polar vortex / far from home, holds us tightly / in its icy grip.
Downton Abbey’s back! / We revel in and relish / the mass addiction.
Reckoning / with the past, future / beckoning.
A bright winter day / the shadow shapes and snow lines / recede together.
He held up a sign / I could not read, driving by / but guessed what it said.
Remember / your location is / Level One.
I have decided / I will certainly be late to / my own funeral.
Leaves leaving / revealing the scars / left by storms.
It hurts me / that I can’t shield her / from all hurt.
School concert / should a clarinet / squeak like that?
Had to put on threes / so I could repair my twos / and find my lost ones.
Took a step forward / from black and white to gray / close yet far away.
Still recovering / from Thanksgiving, Black Friday / now Cyber Monday.
Whipping wickedly / chill wind makes a liar of / brightly shining sun.
Fall fallen / shoved aside, Winter / takes the stage.
Reminded / to feel, speak, today / thankfully.
I woke for two hours / just as time fell back so it / only took one hour.
Now we read from the / book of the dead, stilled voices / we must always hear.
Reclining on couch / Buddha on the windowsill / daughter beside me.
Labor holiday? / Brief exchange of office work / for home and yard work.
Crickets, cicadas / vociferously debate / whether it will rain.
Swallowed together / culprit and cure, my coffee / and my heartburn pill.
Morning in mourning / thickening clouds, a dark veil / pulled across her face.
Sometimes it / is right to enter / the shadow.

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