Haiku Attempts 7 - Spring Break Haiku

Global Haiku • Millikin University • Spring 2009

Springtime tryst—
the fat robin
dances with his dinner

white sweatpants, too small
with flecks of grey paint—
two hands around a cup of coffee

laughing with my parents
I question
moving away

Seattle rain—
the tired earthworm
comes out again

through the clouds
a needle pokes
… Seattle

aloe vera…
trying not to flinch
beneath his fingertips

in my mind
the professor on mute
last day until spring break

my happy goodbyes
until next week
my dorm all my own

knockout by lust
by her voice

waiving to my friends
as they board the plane
I could not afford …

Nebraska dinner
staring at me
from a wall mounting

black cloud—
planning the trip
to say goodbye

an old friend’s farm
baby goat licks my face
a new friend

cancelled flight
I become
a hobo

a million
awkward questions
about how we met

sister sick again
Spring Break!
in the ER

houselights flickering
like birthday candles…
the winding road ahead

spring break gossip—
she dumped him
for a her?!

for a pedicure
I wait
as they gossip…chinese

Groundhog Day
every day—
exactly like the one before

ducks flocking
in a waterless lake—
stale bread on mud

months of exercise
in my new swimsuit
my debut…

turning around & around
our precious child
is no where in sight

bronchitis recovery
takes over
my spring break

inglin’ and minglin’
bringing smiles
successful night

mother shares a recipe
for cheese sauce-
I add chili powder

Monday morning panic
the buses engine
…as I open my eyes

chalk against pool cue—
faint scent of strawberry
from across the bar

spring break
with friends
I will always have

video game marathon
the two of them…
up till dawn

at one glance
the podiatrist exclaims
Are you a runner?

highway dusk
forgotten countryside
hides a timeless town

all days crossed
from the calendar
except spring break

for better or worse
I have become
my father

Mom’s Payday…
finding money
in the dirty laundry

cleaning out the garage
         r     t
dust and old memories

green river
corn beef and cabbage
O Danny Boy

blinding sunlight
from the lake
a pair of crocodile eyes

missing one eye
the teddy bear
that used to be hers

packing my suitcase
to see
My mom’s new husband

back home
a child again
in my parents’ arms

I never finish anything
during break

Irish music plays
everyone asks
to see a jig

lungs hurt
every time I cough
when will it end?

red wine fragrance
“I love you so much”
he tells me, again

rainbow tile—
she steps on only
blue ones

the rainbow
our hearts

waves lapping
our empty kayak…
the taste of fresh coconut

grocery store humor—
a super glued quarter
on the floor

all the lights aglow
in every shadow…
the Boogie Man

a six year habit . . .
I put out my
last cigarette

© 2009, Randy Brooks • Millikin University
All rights returned to authors upon publication.