A wonderful start to the day to be featured again on Dear Charlotte’s Daily Haiku!
woodpecker–
wondering who
the neighbors are
by Steve Smolak (USA)
Ershik, #14, 2017
Author: Steven Smolak
I am a 48 year old man who reflected on his father's words - there's a readiness principle to everything in life - throughout my life - but it wasn't until I met my great friend Justin in the spring of 2015 that I had to write a good haiku - Justin's haiku were developed, and good at the time, mine were not - at that time my poetry was very over the top and verbose - my life was philosophy and my poetic attempts reflected it - I love the simplicity haiku is teaching me as I find out it is not so simple to write a good haiku... indeed, it is a practice of zen, that has strengthened my practice of life.
Daily Haiku: Nov. 1, 2019 — Charlotte Digregorio’s Writer’s Blog
magnolia sometimes between his cigar smoke by Steve Smolak (USA) Failed Haiku, #10, 2016
via Daily Haiku: Nov. 1, 2019 — Charlotte Digregorio’s Writer’s Blog
One of my most comical times in a haiku write featured the day after enjoying all those great Halloween haiku. Thanks Charlotte, for the foggy trip down memory lane… 🙂
#41
for those of you
who thought I went to heaven —
I did not !
– Failed Haiku #46, jisei edition –
#40
we both go back tonight full moon
entrambi torniamo indietro questa sera luna piena
– incense dreams 3.1 – autumn 2019 –
#39
park bench
open to her being late
day lily
panchina al parco
aperto al suo essere in ritardo
il giglio
– incense dreams 3.1 – autumn 2019 –
#38
classical music
on the way home
drifting clouds
musica classica
sulla via di casa
nuvole alla deriva
– incense dreams 3.1 – autumn 2019 –
#37
perfume sample
before I can remember
I was loved
campione di profumo
rima che possa ricordare
sono stato amato
– incense dreams 3.1 – autumn 2019 –
#36
reading a poem,
the long blue comma
butterfly
Chanokeburi. it 2017
#35
our walk
between daffodils and magnolias
winter ends
– NaHaiWriMo Anthology 2017 –
#34
autumn wind . . .
the old screen door
fits
– Haiku Society of America Members Anthology 2017 –
#33
spring thaw
I join grandma
on her porch
a crow does
the only talking
– incense dreams 2.1 –
#32
cup of coffee
sleet pelts the frozen window
again and again . . .
love I should have made
to her last night
– incense dreams 2.1 –
#31
Knowing I wanted to visit Greenwich Village, she had added it to our plans. Full of exploration, shopping, dining, and dancing, we are on the subway train back to Manhattan. We couldn’t have done anything more, anything better; the perfect couple; the perfect day.
Exhausted, fulfilled, and ready for bed, we are in one of those lulls that follows a person after they have been fully engaged in something great that results in timelessness. She sits across from me, arms rested on shopping bags, as the train moves through patches of light and dark, light and dark, her in each frame. As our day together passes through my mind again, I have no doubt we are madly in love… and yet, there is that, is this all as real as it seems kind of edge in these silent frames of her in light and shadow.
The occasional sound of rails; the electric clash of cables; it is one of those late night, oddly quiet rides to have so many people around. As the day’s images fade from my mind, she appears again, in a moment that seems like forever. It does not feel good or bad, high or low, I just keep sensing something like the end…
breakfast in bed
the tailor’s perfect stitch
in her kimono
.
– incense dreams 1.3 –
#30
lost in her story
the tumble of light
in a snowflake
– incense dreams 1.3 –
#29
blackout
endless light
her smile
– incense dreams 1.3 –
#28
she looks out
the bedroom window
outline of Venus
– Stardust Haiku, Issue 12 –
#27
in and out of my dream her soft strokes
– incense dreams 1.2 –
#26
crickets song
the candle thrums
into a dream
– incense dreams 1.2 –
#25
awakened by wind chimes the universe
– incense dreams 1.2 –
#24
drifting off
the faucet drips
from a stalactite
– incense dreams 1.2 –
#23
tucked away
more neatly than the war
grandfather’s medals
– My Haiku Pond Memorial Day Collaborative, May 29, 2017 –
#22
Easter service
the philosopher
left at home
– Earthrise Rolling Haiku Collaboration 2017, THF –
#21
breeze through the curtains
smiley face
on the breakfast tray
– Earthrise Rolling Haiku Collaboration 2017, THF –
#20
cardinal rain
the unsung part
of mother’s yesterday
– incense dreams 1.1 –
#19
mother and child’s game eating each other’s vegetables
– incense dreams 1.1 –
#18
open window her r’s rolling with the waves
– incense dreams 1.1 –
#17
waving daisy . . .
the red ball
back again
– Hedgerow #110, print issue –
#16
rare blood-type
the mosquito knows damn well
where to get it !
– Failed Haiku #17 –
#15
home run
the outfielder learns a thing or two
about rose bushes
– Failed Haiku #17 –
#14
small town grocery store nothing’s ever new
– Failed Haiku issue #17 –
#13
new neighbors
the old dog
back on the leash
– Failed Haiku issue #17 –
#12
the past
almost over
incense
– Hedgerow # 109 –
#11
slow night . . .
the slug on my porch
decides to leave
– Failed Haiku, Issue 15 –
#10
making its rounds
the old wheel on the
prison library cart
– Failed Haiku #15 –
#9
mosquito !
tired of our struggle
I let him
– Failed Haiku #15 –
#8
the divining rod
I gave to the child
gyrates everywhere
– Akitsu Quarterly, Winter 2016 –
#7
that vintage taste
at my brother’s house —
I bring the wine
– Failed Haiku #10 –
#6
magnolia sometimes between his cigar smoke
– Failed Haiku, issue 10 –
#5
the mockingbird
elaborates some
on the crow’s caw
– Failed Haiku #10 –
#4
quiet night
the neighbor dog’s
new shock collar
– 100,000 Poets For Change (My Haiku Pond) 9-25-16 –
#3
trash day —
only the apple
absent
– 100,000 Poets For Change (My Haiku Pond) 9-25-16 –
#2
woodpecker —
wondering who
the neighbors are
– Ershik #14 –
#1
wind chimes . . .
the rocking chair
starts without me
– Hedgerow #78 –
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Steven Smolak's Haiku Middle America 