Global Haiku • Spring 2016
Dr. Randy Brooks

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Alexis Dockins

Reader Response Essay:
Jorgen Johannson's
Ironic Haiku

Blooming and Fading

Alexis Dockins

In writing haiku I focused on life experiences that many people can relate to. Most of them come from images I have seen or feelings I have experienced. The haiku written in this book were all written over the course of this semester. My haiku involve family a lot and a few honor relatives recently lost. I found thinking of lost relatives provided images and emotions that were very true and heartfelt. In writing haiku and learning more about this art, I have become more in touch wiht nature and have take more time to appreciate the images, relationships, and events and history surrounding me. The titel, "Blooming and Fading," hints at images of flowers used throughout this collection, and also the feelings of both good times and bad times.

About the Author

Alexis Dockins grew up in Peotone, a small town south of Chicago. She attends Millikin University where she is studying nursing. She is a member of Tri-Delta sorority. Alexis has three sisters and enjoys spending time with them and her nieces and nephews. She just started writing haiku and has grown to love it.

barefoot girl
on the hood of a Dodge
warm beer

shattering the silence
I splash
into freedom

tiny turtle turning
the old man
into a child

little yellow wildflowers
remind me
to make the most of it

inhaling deeply
it doesn't smell like roses
his shoe

over dinner
I see sadness
stuck in mother's eyes

old highway 61
covered in shimmering
blue tears

hitch hiking
yaw gnorw eht
down a one-way street

sun on my back
cool water drips
down the paddle

with each step
the ground is moving
tiny frogs

disgusting turkey roll
me and dad
missing mom

on her old tire swing
Grandma watches
tiny birds bathe

hiding in the crowd
soul untouched
I stand up

finally walking past him
hair covers my eyes
I hate the wind

refusing to be forgotten
faint moon
in the sun's sky

the sun falls
behind the creek
I let go of his hand

small seashells
each one special
to me

each insignificant
blade of grass
sways every direction

one tiny lantern
f    l    o    t    s
toward the outhouse


© 2016, Randy Brooks • Millikin University
All rights returned to authors upon publication.