Haiku Kukai 3 - senryu & BIG nature

Roundtable Haiku • Millikin University, Fall 2010

a message
in a smoky bottle
tossed by waves

ashes in the lake,
my father
drifts away

holding on with all its might
the last leaf
hangs tight

rummage sale
inside the dusty locket
a baby tooth

first lost tooth—
she keeps one eye
open for faeries

loose tooth
she bites into an apple
holding back tears

the tree of liberty
brown leaves falling down
The Patriotic Act

the broad arch
of her brush

on her cell phone
talking to no one
just to avoid him

my $150 cell phone
completely swallowed
by poison ivy

the umbrella shields
his false hope
hurricane season

family cookout
clouds pour out
their different plans

among rolling fields
he picks up a single blade

we get lost
in cornstalks
taller than my dad

lost in the woods
we search for
something familiar

her only source
of air—

bakery worker
eyes also
glazed over

tree branch arms
lifting the sky
she closes her eyes

Sunday morning service
the gossips gather
at the sanctuary doors

dad's wedding
everyone loves her...
but me.

everyone drinks
and I

promises to keep
the woods
fill with snow

in his room,
she searches for
her mother's ring

moonlight filters
through the branches
rabbit tracks

my little cabin
tilting on the side

indian summer
steam rises
off the pond

friend draws
guanine for me . . .
I write to ignore him

bedroom doorway
he swings his lanyard
smiling at me

tattered sketchpad
her many pages
of happiness

on the porch
mailman bends down
for the black and white cat

Iron Man stares
from my wristband

coffee shop line
the crooked politician
straightens his tie

she digs for
the last chocolate

poet painting
pea pods on the bamboo
blames the brush

saturated with stars:
in the country air
the sky comes alive

stars fly
keeping company with fire
he lights a pipe

stumbling home
he fiddles with the lock:
wrong house

having a drink
on the porch
with his dog

the eyes behind the glare
she’s so sexy with
that flower in her ear

crowding the hallway
bouquets and cards address
the miscarriage

from miles away
her distant call
slowly breaking up

poetry reading
a creaking door shuts
between poems

dream house and weddings
playing Barbies with
the orphan

a checked box—
our break-up now
Facebook official

grocery store
a young mother with two hands
and three kids

date night
under the table

not interested!
he still
keeps trying

First Crush,
she smiles
at a rock

he runs in to the side
more than once—
little orange fish

duck pond
cold wind ruffles
my down coat

oh, humble ocean
allowing its shore
to touch my toes

a baby screams
on the bus
his mother apologizes

grade school carnival
at dusk her daddy climbs
the ladder of the dunk tank

history museum
windows reflecting
the clouds

like ants,
the trees watch
humans walk

a tree to
shade my picnic

the magnified ant
at the mercy
of son and sun

prariedog heads—
watching people
watch people

standing up
to the red wood tree:
I am humbled.

a fly
buzzing and pestering
the train’s riders

© 2010, Randy Brooks • Millikin University
All rights returned to authors upon publication.