Arms shaking wildly
The first breaths of life rush in
Cold, bright confusion
fire dances in its place
blankets cover my body
warmth fills my limbs
El oceano
Olas bucan para playas
Pajaros llaman.
the first daffodil
opens to the face of God
resurrection day
hunger of strangers
feeding my endless need
cold heat of the night
fanciful pattern
from the black-headed footprints
Dutch cuneiforming writing
A gull still dancing
in a small beam of sunlight
while the moon rises
Dance on mirrored glaze
Blinking season's arbored eyes
Pulse the latent heart
The poet comments, "A new year is upon us. Let us forsake our pained pasts and look forward to the future with a new found hope."
The poet comments, "Following a lapse of four months of creative effort, I return on the embers of a flamed-out dragon."
Bravo, Agustin and welcome back!
The poet comments, "inspired by Jeanne Cooper’s haiku"
Bear time seeps through.
Gone are all needs and sorrows.
Warm hibernation.
Loathing cold wet feet
Tiptoes over the snowdrift
Dainty pampered cat
Water in basement
Defective technology
Malodorous fumes
The poet comments, "Don't you hate it when the washing machine runs over? Oh well, at least it can stimulate a little poetic comment."
The poet comments, "NEW TO HAIKU, I WILL BE BACK"
Welcome, but stop SCREAMING at us!
The poet comments, "(An Afro haiku) "
The poet comments, " This is actually only one verse in a larger poem I wrote. Each verse was a haiku, this is just the verse I liked most."
The poet comments, "Tell Heraclitus that being, not becoming, is the thing."
The poet comments, "I like this web page"
Thank you! Welcome aboard!
The poet comments, "Who says windchill is a factor?"
The poet comments, "I don't like self-contained lines or neatness. My world is a world of becoming, where one thing spills over into the next. Deal with it."
Just clean up when you're done.
to show me the truth
coming deep within your soul
to lie is to kill
The poet comments, "honesty"
pierced purple tongue
calling me from the mosh pit
my once baby boy
bend reach row by row
bitter sweet harvest of years
Grandma oh Grandma
The poet comments, "I am a mother of grown and growing children, with many glorious pictures in my head. Haiku celebrates life for me."
The poet comments, "To L.A.F."
To heaven or hell?
Each path sheds a different light.
Which road shall we choose?
The poet comments, "I am a grade 4/5 teacher and have been writing for many years. I enjoy all forms of poetry, but find haikus to be a beautiful expression of feelings, emotions and sensations."
Low clouds stream eastwards.
A sad street lantern watches
swinging spot below
Lone bare hilltop tree
Seeks an unobtrusiveness
Pending equinox
fodder for the owl
a dark spot on moonlit crust
scampers to its death
motionless movement
black streams of translucent blue
glacial paradox
What demons wake me?
Ha!...just cats proclaiming love
This winter midnight
Unfortunate cat,
Dead this icy silver dawn...
O, fortunate crow!
The poet comments, "No, I don't have any real homocidal intent."
Homo-cidal. Hee hee hee!
Sun behind my back
Sends racing shadows of me
Ahead of myself
At the whim of light
My shadow image changes
Disappearing me
The poet comments, "I am new to Haiku and would appreciate any comments and critiques. Am I in the right place? Please contact me through my e-mail address Thank you...Jeanne Cooper "
The poet comments, "We give up so...reluctantly."
The poet comments, "The haiku...as elegy."
Sketchly writes 01/14/98
bustling fire ants
flames on a summer sidewalk-
a laughing boy
pristine sunlit field-
star sparkling snow
bows at my feet
Is there world outside,
or only great musician
playing cords of soul?
I worship idles
Solo tracks in virgin snow
Lips on sleeping brows
The poet comments, "PAIN
there are no hungry people in heaven
no one is being hurt where angels live
families stay together in God's garden
"
I kiss on a frog
No prince lives inside this one
In fact there's just warts.
Tension haunts the face
Liquid runs with freeing flow
I flush the toilet
We ride the ferry
Across a river of fog
Home is an island.
The poet comments, "and another...
Just foolin' around
My first time, how does it sound?
Haikus for Toast Point."
wind softly moves through
stands of ice-coated aspens
nature's own wind chimes
Snow hare stares at me
Frozen. Statue in the snow.
Eyes give him away
coruscating fire
vibrant bands, shifting colors
Northern Lights on high
Once so green--now brown
Christmas tree lies in the snow
dead and discarded
wooden chair sleeps
undisturbed on sun-baked porch
while insects rehearse.
The poet comments, "Wow. Almost as silly as Spamku..."
Considering that this is the Toast Point Haiku Contest, the Sage, amazedly, cannot remember any previous haiku about toast...
The poet comments, "First and foremost, I beg your forgiveness if it seems that I have masscred the art of writing haiku. I'm only 13 years old and still very new to this so if anyone wants to give any pointers, advice or even critisim.. PLEASE, please, PLEASE e-mail me!"
The Sage liked yours a lot! However, as a youngster, you may want to try conforming to the 5-7-5 syllables, just to get into practice. We must first learn the rules before we break them.
Somnolent fly stirs
sun's heat has made it take wing
all too soon, sleep again
Warm wind kisses snow
fog flows into my valley
January thaw
Free your heart from thorns
That punctured your tears to bleed --
Forgive friends and self.
Remember the air
That fresh-breathed happy triumphs --
Be ready to fly!
The poet comments, "The human race can sometimes disregard the beauty of nature and forget the sufferings of the needy. "
Once the moon seemed close
the sky infinitely close
I reach for you now
My life was so dim
the sun's light unknown to me
you are my sunrise
The poet comments, "Actually a variation of a longer poem I once wrote... longer...as in 35 words...and carved into the side of a pumpkin. It won a contest. Alas...a pumpkin carving contest!"
See now, isn't this easier?
The poet comments, "Didn't note any specific requirements or what this contest is ultimately about or open too, but here is one haiku."
Toast Point suggests you look over the whole Haiku Greeting Page for a discussion of what we're about. Welcome aboard!
One hundred degrees.
In short skirt, she walks away.
I hope for a breeze.
The poet comments, "Or...100...with the little "o" symbol for degrees."
At this hour in the morning, Toast Point has no idea how to force special characters.
The poet comments, "alas, the bible do tell of such."
i watch, not speaking
new day replacing old
sun-lit land in frost
pass up river road?
the old sage keeps flowing on
water grounds my life
in spring season
sweet bloom predicts the harvest
strength of life behold
i must write them down
fleeting thoughts spring forth from me
can i catch the breeze?
hands loose feet the same
breathing deeply sitting straight
everything nothing
kettle spouts promise
green tea gracing a bowl
woman bows to guests
oh sprouting legume
winter's spell on the garden
will pea blossom spring?
juvenile or old
in life their tales can be held
be they bloom or wreck
gathering roses
change my home by sight and smell
embracing nature
The poet comments, "First one since elementary school, I'll keep practicing."
A hidden jungle
So peaceful & beautiful
A monkey swings by
The poet comments, "This one always makes me smile. I hope you also find it humorous. "
The poet comments, "This is what my new year's eve was like until it all went horribly wrong..."
Now bad coke morning
sanity is shattering
in light like knife thrusts
The poet comments, "This is how i felt after everything went horribly wrong. Why was I so surprised, that's what concerns me. Of course everthing was going to go horribly wrong. i should have expected it. Oh well. "
English horn. Few notes.
Fox hunt? A distant thunderstorm...?
Black rider, keep away!
The poet comments, "This is a 6, 7, 6 Haiku, an accepted Japanese form. The word child's in the first line is counted as two syllables."
Upon a breast of
New fallen snow a little
Bird walks onward still
Shirts, socks, pants,boots, gloves
Christmas gifts which say out loud
"You got the wrong size"!
The poet comments, "Tax season is the worst season, it is a sly dig at the income tax system."