Category Archives: Haiku My Heart
I Dared to Dream Some Poems
1.
Orange juice with ice—
my summer griefs disappear
with a few cold sips.
2.
Sticky-fingered boy,
the peach you stole from market
makes you laugh—such joy!
3.
Tell me, earth and sky,
do you know why some would harm
the white butterfly?
4.
Season by season
I’ll tend my little corner
till my hands are numb.
More The Whirligig #377
More Haiku My Heart at Recuerda Mi Corazon
More Friday Writings #33 at Poets and Storytellers United
Lost Songs of Summer
1.
Down a winding path
we hike to a summer grove—
listen, the breeze sings!
2.
Summer afternoon—
a river combs through old stones,
looking for lost songs.
3.
Cheek to cheek we sway,
holding each other, dancing
like weeds in the wind.
4.
Summer tragedy—
the face of an old drag queen
crumples in the heat.
More The Whirligig #376
More Haiku My Heart at Recuerda Mi Corazon
More Friday Writings #32 at Poets and Storytellers United
Four Haiku Celebrating Summer
1.
Crimson hollyhocks,
how many names of wild things
hide in your blossoms?
2.
The peony’s death
happened not in a moment,
for the drought was deep.
3.
A little girl waves
at some honeysuckle vines
shaking in the wind.
4.
This apricot’s flesh,
sweeter than any honey,
titillates my tongue.
More The Whirligig #375
More Haiku My Heart at Recuerda Mi Corazon
More Friday Writings #31 at Poets and Storytellers United
Blue Monday & Ruby Tuesday Too: Not Forgotten

“Don’t forget us.” From left: Frankie, Stingray, Jennifer, and Lane, who live on the streets of Tucson, Arizona.
sticking together
for there’s safety in numbers
if the street’s your home
One photo, two memes.
Please visit other participants and leave a comment.
Why not go over and see the friendly skies at SkyWatch Friday?
Photo and haiku © by Magical Mystical Teacher

To share your Blue Monday shot, click on the Mister Linky icon below:
To share your ruby shot, click on the Mister Linky icon below:
Haibun: Cataracts
“You don’t have glaucoma, just cataracts,” my ophthalmologist says cheerfully. Well, at least I’m not going blind, although my sight is clouded. Nighttime is the worst. I can’t even pick out the bright stars that form Ursa Major. The meaning of my restricted vision eludes me. What’s the point of my not seeing clearly the glories of this galaxy? I complain that my irises no longer do what they were designed to do. “Sometimes I feel like I’m looking down a long narrow hall,” I say. “Other times, my sight hits a wall.” My ophthalmologist shrugs. “Presbyopia,” he says. “It happens to all of us as we age.” Small consolation, I think, as I leave his office. I’ve never wanted to be like everyone else.
Spring tranquility—
in the noonday sun cattle
settle down to nap.
More The Whirligig #371
More Haiku My Heart at Recuerda Mi Corazon
More Friday Writings #27 at Poets and Storytellers United
Measure
I learn by laughing
how to measure out the pain
of spring’s cruelty.
More The Whirligig #369
More Haiku My Heart at Recuerda Mi Corazon
More Friday Writings #25 at Poets and Storytellers United
Praise
Misty April dawn—
a wren clinging to a twig
warbles songs of praise.
More The Whirligig #368
More Haiku My Heart at Recuerda Mi Corazon
More Friday Writings #24 at Poets and Storytellers United