The love of nature is religion, and that religion is poetry; these three things are one thing. This is the unspoken creed of haiku poets.
his abusemakes her an anvilwithout spark
My stomach rumbles.Plates of cookies, cake, and fudge.Christmastime is here.
Where humanitysowed faith, hope, and unity, joy’s garden blossomed.
Trapped in infernoIt blazed brighter than the sunHis desire for her
He cleared his throat and held up one hand dramatically. He grinned at us, waiting for applause. That last line was four syllables. Artemis said. Apollo frowned. Was it? Yes. What about No, no, that...
Leave me alone,Do me a favor, abandon me,I want to think about,You me and the idea of forever.
If life transcends deathThen I will seek for you thereIf not, then there too
My children are monsters, Kiro thought. And I am responsible. Perhaps if I had read them the haikus of Basho when they were little instead of that American manifesto of high-pressure sales, Green Eggs...
Feet sandaled with dreams tread paths of vision leading to wisdom’s sharp peaks.
stronger than mountains.a place where my heart feels the safest- underneath his shirt.