Haiku Kukai 1

Global Haiku • Millikin University • Fall 2014

drifting hammock sigh
through the pine needles
comes light

weary traveler
. . . a day spent on the playground
deserves a night's sleep

open field
just me, paco
and our frisbee

time to type again
my pinky finger
on the S key

the lake
bones on fire
my only escape

silence in my room
has been replaced
by another’s steady breathing

sweat-soaked shirt
broken fan
pas de bourree

here’s the scoop
waffle cones
nice and cool

lying down
erasing the pale spots
front side then flip

dew line on forehead
my hand on your back damp shirt
blaring horns, guitars

sitting in a library
pages turn
music blaring from headphones

at the surface
hot water
cold down below

a cool shower
iced drinks
a date with the pool

moving in
sticky t-shirts inhibit

swimming all day
time flies
where did the sun go

shadow hearts
a personal swan song

she folds his ties
as she always does
but not for him

gentle guitar
in the distance
a street band

bone chilling night
snowflakes falling
on our tongues

open fields
empty sky
everything breathes

flashlight beams
dance across the sand
sea turtle hatchlings

cracking of the ice
the stream
comes back to life

the sun also rises
even when I
fail to hear the call

summer knees
bent in keen inspection
tadpoles plankton minnows

dark clouds

running uncovered
where are all the people?

mid-afternoon wednesday
on the tickling grass

standing back to back
five years and half an inch apart
when did he grow up?

the view from the tops of mountains in debt of something priceless

right foot red
from the blazing sun

move-in day
Beatles on the radio
for three hours

big kids versus little
the water balloons do nothing
to cool the blacktop's heat

june eighteenth
the birthday candles
add to the heat

fresh raked hay
large round bales
a sudden rain

fireflies strung across the back porch light up the party

wing brushes
of the cricket
summer symphony

beads of sweat
checking under leaves
for cucumbers

sun beating down
on me and my dog
a short walk

five hours in the car
doors opened
warm at last


sets down the guitar
lights cig and grabs a whiskey
set list part two next

oceans apart
shallow waters
that once ran deep

my legs stick
to my chair

kick off the blankets
for cooling

a comfortable nook
in the ancient tree
reading spot

Lake Michigan—
drowning my fears
one by one

sleeping bags
plentiful amount of tents
stars twinkling

waterpark locker
my bare feet
burn like fire

shallow river
small pairs of footprints
in the muddy bank

Parliament in my knuckles
an overture of laughter
infinite night

bronchioles strain
should have been
born a fish

© 2014, Randy Brooks • Millikin University
All rights returned to authors upon publication.