Tuesday 31 October 2006

Haiku for Hallowe'en by Christine Bruness

autumn evening
hearing the campfire hiss
from the rain's kisses

October morning
fog rolls across the graveyard
or: phantoms dancing?

glass jack-o-'lantern
smashed to pieces by goblins
this Halloween night

Christine Bruness, New Jersey, USA

Sunday 29 October 2006

Moonstruck by Chris Major

'Pull your socks up '
and herbal teas,
therapy and pound
a pill Prozac
-nothing bloody helped.

"And in this day and age,
it's like asking for the moon."
She moaned.

I wonder if peace
was found that night?
Purposefully stepping
in to the road,
leaving tarmac puddles
showing pieces of sky,
a gutter of glass
glinting its stars.................

Chris Major, Staffordshire, UK

Friday 27 October 2006

Lost Cities by Steven Schroeder

Rain remembers every face
it's ever touched, Kohelet, when
it slips unseen to sea, overflows
with rivers of them, lost cities
that rise in clouds sky
cannot contain.

Steven Schroeder, Chicago, USA

Sunday 22 October 2006

Hawk and Mouse by Jan Harris

Black beats on blue
in wing-torn sky
eye, beak, talon

Instinct holds her taut,
explosion suspended,
on the tip of dive.

In shadow
eyes night-wide
blood shudders
through flared veins
nostrils scent

flight frozen

two hearts
one moment


Jan Harris, UK.

Friday 20 October 2006

Three haiku on Trees by Sandy Sue Benitez

Maple shakes her curls
covering the naked earth
with shawls of copper

Crabapples fall hard
crashing into frosted soil
red comets on fire

Kites float in gold skies
paper leaves tied with ribbon
tree roots envious

Sandy Hiss, Wyoming, USA

These haiku are now featured on November's Festival of the Trees.

Friday 13 October 2006

Autumn Song by Lanie Shanzyra P Rebancos

(Tanka and Haiku Collection)

Twigs snap under my boots
on my way home

after work-
black veil
took me

Pumpkin pie
on my plate-
on my sister's

smell of dust and

Cloudy day
a kite
passes by

Autumn song
so lonely
even the leaves

Lanie Shanzyra P Rebancos, Phillipines

Friday 6 October 2006

Spiders Inside by James Engelhardt

One early October morning I head into the kitchen
and I don't use the microwave but I notice anyway
the thick webs connecting it to the nearby wall.

What I notice really isn't the webs. To be accurate,
I sense the dark shadow of a spider. And then
I wonder how it was hanging there, which was stupid.

A good-sized spider, too, the length of the first bone
of my index finger. I want to say it's smart
because the ones on the floor get eaten by my cat.

But there aren't many other insects to eat
where it's spun it's dense, white webs. I puff on it
to chase it back under the weird, flat-button oven.

My wife doesn't really care for spiders, but likes
other bugs even less. We don't use the microwave
much and I don't see the spider for a few days.

Dana warms up some leftovers, the web tears
but it's repaired next day and I feel good. It's autumn
and the spider and I keep finding enough to eat.

James Engelhardt, Nebraska, USA