early ~ a haiku

early morning knocks
leaves dew drops and word from you
in my letter-box


Mindfills for
Colleen Cheesebro’s Tanka Tuesdays – Poets choice

My attempt at Brazilian haiku – a variation of the haiku which originated in Brazil, a haiku which rhymes in a set pattern

x x x x A
x B x x x x B
x x x x A

Oh May! ~ a haibun

Oh May! Our old wicker basket sits skewed, a bottle of red tilting the scales in favour of lightbulbs going off under my skin as your laughter booms and scatters my once lucid thoughts. The full moon beams bright, bathing the night and us in mulled vanilla.

We lie back, staring at the stars, strewn, along with the contents of the last midnight picnic in our wild windswept garden. Tomorrow your journey into another life begins. Tomorrow you leave. “Those rose bushes need trimming Sweetie,” you say. I say Hmm…

let me stare at you
my sweet flower-moon of May
next month, you’ll be June’s


Mindfills for

dVerse Haibun Monday hosted by Frank Tassone – Flower moon
FOWC lucid
Colleen Cheesebro’s Tanka Tuesdays– travel/journeys

sands ~ a haibun

The little fountain pond flashes fish.  We’ve brought one pora. I crumb the dry biscuit and the fish jump at it. The evening sun glints on the water. I fill my fist in my father’s right palm and look up at him. Clock? Clock. The second hand marches to a parade. Tick. Click. Pause. Tick. My father carries me high enough to see the big white face with its three needles. When the thin one reaches 12, it chimes. One loud delightful Tanngg! Its 4:30.

We walk to the first tower of the  plant. There’s a mountain of sulphur nuggets. I get to pick one and slip it into my father’s pocket. We make our way through the fertilizer factory. My father is on his evening rounds. A rusty gate lets us cross over to the beach. With much fanfare my father retrieves the sulphur nugget, strikes a match and we watch a green flame dance. My toes dig into the moist sand. I point at a distant wave touching the shore and ask my father….There! Did you see that jelly fish? And we laugh. It was our thing.

watching waves whisper
silly sweet nothings before
sands run out of time


Mindfills of s.s. for

dVerse – walk with me down memory lane. Lillian asks us to travel to our earliest memories.

Colleen Cheesebro’s Tanka Tuesdays – poet’s choice