H  A  I  K  U     S  P  I  R  I  T
Haiku Spirit Issue #20 



OCTOBER 2000

 

 


For today
nothing in my diary -
silent birds on the roof



Empty sky -
the sound of an icicle
falling on snow


Ion Codrescu



Sitting zazen
the pigeon's note
inside my head



my potted strawberries
ripening
in the rain


Helen Robinson




Rusted tracks -
in a remote house
notes of a flute



At the bottom
of the church wall
a lost chessgame



Each drop of the icicle
takes with it
the moonlight



September morning
sharpening the pencil
the smell of wood



north wind -
the restless swallows
above my house



far from home -
in a clear light
that lone old oak



wild apple tree -
a falling leaf
changes its direction



rising the blinds
the late September light
on my hands



after the bath
turning off the bedside lamp
moonlight on the Bible



one after another
the mountain peaks
out of the fog



endless wind -
the birch trees uncover
their branches



unfolding a dry leaf
I find a few drops
hidden inside



autumn rain -
ending his drawing the child
caresses the paper


Written in a mountain village in Catalunya Spainduring summer - autumn 1999


Ion Codrescu




Nothing to avoid
as late sunset falls behind
the pines & vast sky



Broken pine branch moon -
a robin starts to sing about
the season's first frost



Walking up the hill -
but no longer a burden
the clouds on my back



Still feeling homeless
I let the winter wind blow
away this sadness



Winter persimmons -
how they bring to mind the blush
of that first kiss



With the winter rain
a robin hopping - hopping
into endless dusk



Wind brings lonesome thoughts -
in the middle of the night
a poem comes to mind

(on my 58th birthday)


Bill Wyatt



Moving on
after twenty six years
I paint the skirtings



The dog's eating wasps -
on the veranda
I read your haiku


George Marsh




Fatherless
together we notice
two black mushrooms


Sean O'Connor




Out of darkness
wind chimes
made of bones


Ken Jones




It says "I" now,
my widowed dad's
answer phone message



My two-year old son,
so much like me,
woke me up snoring



Even whiter
than this summer cloud
a seagull's belly



Careful, fat fly,
you're entering a room
with carnivorous plants



With a man's shirt
this old lady
washing her windows


Gilles Fabre




This nameless torrent
how its water flows
through me!



Rough cinder path:
I hold onto
my mother's hand


Helen Robinson




Winter sun
a tiny mite and its shadow
creep across the page



Flaking paint
on the abandoned boat -
daytime moon



Moss between the cobbles
children's voices
echo in the alley


Martin Lucas





Whose back is it
going off into
the pouring rain?


Taneda Santoka (1882-1940)


Santoka






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