Haiku Showing 1,601-1,650 of 8,460

[M]

Beautiful, Ajay!

[Ajay]

Thank you, M!

[Ajay]

Thank you, Alex!

[M]

Here’s a weak reply I mustered on the way to the Italian place to pick up meatball subs for lunch.

What nets could ensnare,
what hooks enslave me, what flames
burn me to ashes,

like the look she gave
me as she unclasped her hair,
batting her lashes!

[M]

Thanks, Alex!

[Ajay]

As always, that's a strong, beautiful haiku M!

[Ryan]

Wow! M & Ajay...such beautiful images. I enjoy reading your Haiku immensely. Perfect with my morning coffee!

[Ryan]

This is quickly becoming my favorite thread...

[Ryan]

Passion drew me in
and held me close. Crimson heat,
the scent of morning.

That summer passed by,
now leaden-grey sky greets me
as I walk alone.

[Ajay]

Thanks, Ryan! And wow, 'Crimson heat, the scent of morning'! That's an excellent follow up.

[Ajay]

*


Chugging along train-like,
I scan the grey
for light, respite.

The light train must have
run out of steam. As if wiped
clean, by an invisible thumb.

[M]

Ryan and Ajay, these are beautiful! Great work. Ryan, this quickly became my favorite thread, too. For me, these versatile little verses are a wonderful writing exercise! I can take a few minutes and spin seventeen syllables worth of verbal candy floss, or spend hours trying to distill (usually unsuccessfully) the perception of a moment.

[Ajay]

Thanks, M!

[M]

They’d known each other
for so long, there was no need
of things to say.

The reels turned slow with
a silky song, and she had
bought new lingerie.

Forged by hellfires of
fury and hurt, they stood in
the strangely charged air.

She stripped him, put on
his long-tailed shirt, and ran her
fingers through his hair.

[Ajay]

Wow, this one's gone above and beyond perfection, M! To say that I loved it, is such an understatement!

[M]

Thank you, Ajay! I’m supposed to be doing laundry, but I’m writing pseudo-haiku instead.

[Ryan]

Simply brilliant, M. You are so very eloquent. I'm glad you delayed the laundry... And thanks for your praise.

Al & Ajay , thank you both also - praise from people I respect so much as writers means a lot to me.

[M]

I’m still waiting for an artistic reply to Ryan’s #2587 or Ajay’s #2590.

[Ryan]

For #2590

Midnight train, express
to nowhere. I climb aboard-
for that's where I'm bound.

From no place special
to somewhere the same, seeking
the rules to this game.

[Guy]

Gentlemen, I take off my cap and bow to each of you as true masters. Spectacular! I confess to being a little awe struck at just how good all of these are, and how they so seamlessly moved from one to the other.

Here's my meagre effort:

Each grain of black sand
is the weight that binds her thought
to the one before it;

A train of wan blood
driven by an aortic
imperiousness

Casts out crimson love
like a reformed drunk her jinn
with the hope for breath.

The truth of the game,
she thought, is to beg for truth
and still miss take

the old and tired tracks
for her soul's laughter and the
warm touch of soft hands.

[Guy]

Thank you Al, but doesn't come close to those written by Ryan, M and Ajay. Still trying to drag myself away to bed.

[Ryan]

"If only," she said
"my muse could write while I slept."
Words, perfectly Frank.

[Ryan]

I'm speechless, Guy. Your Haiku is brilliant. Beautiful and brilliant.

[Ryan]

And my last one was a quick, out-of-thread for Al, not an attempt to follow such a powerful Haiku! I'll leave that to someone more talented than I.

[Guy]

Al, you are far too hard on yourself! You're writing compares beautifully with any and all of these.

[Ajay]

Thank you, Guy! I just read #2601. As always, it's an absolute pleasure to read your haiku. I've read these over and over again and they get better with each read. Brilliant.

Alex, I agree with Guy.

[Ryan]

We are all just pawns
in this strange game. The moves have
long been foretold. Chess

board, clearly painted
in black and white, prepares us
not for the grey. Love-

the question's answer;
a key to the door. Leading
to our salvation.

[Ajay]

Nice one, Ryan!

[Ryan]

Thanks, Ajay. It's a very poor attempt to follow Guy...but I had to try ;o/

[Ajay]

Not at all a poor attempt, Ryan. I liked it.

[Ryan]

Cheers, Ajay...your turn :)

[Ajay]

The answer's within,
clothed in knotty camouflages,
clock's a key.

[Ryan]

Very nicely done, Ajay!

Eleventh hour
approaches. Broken bell tolls,
clock is out of tune.

[Ajay]

Thanks, Ryan. Your's is perfect! I'l try to come up with something, once dinner is done.

[Ajay]

Clock mechanics dissect
the entrails. They blame
the celestial beings.

[Ryan]

Very nice, Ajay. That is definitely my favorite of all your Haiku poems so far. Although you made me laugh a lot with the Bond ones-loved Octomessy!

[Ajay]

Thank you, Ryan! Glad you liked this and the Bond ones, they were a lot of fun :)

[Ryan]

Night's eyes are twinkling
a kaleidoscope of dreams.
Timeless yet fading.

[Ajay]

Wow, Ryan! I loved it! Inspired me to write this.


Strewn gemstones bask
atop black foam blankets,
sweltering away to die.

Reborn into diamonds,
they cater to crews of
necklines and egos.

[Ryan]

That's a huge compliment, mate! Stunning imagery - another beautiful Haiku. Your writing is very expressive.

Rolling and tumbling;
crews of dead sailors, gazing
with dark salty eyes.

Gemstones and egos
no longer a prize. Foamy
slumber in sea beds.

[Ajay]

Beautiful, Ryan. Tough to follow that. I'l try to come up with something. And thanks!

[Guy]

Gentlemen. I with great respect and humbleness bow to your exquisite creations. And I will also add, Wow! These are exceptional. Ryan, your play off of Ajay's is particularly noteworthy. Ajay, 2619 is one of your very best efforts and probably your best.

Now for my swing at the ball.

These salty eyes cry
an ocean of lost day dreams
in bed with your scent.

When I sleep I dream
of hearts made of clear gem stones
clattering off key.

It was my bed, too,
until you left me alone
and wanting you still.

[Ajay]

That's beautifully poignant, Guy! Thanks a lot, I'm glad you liked it.

[Guy]

Thank you Ajay and Al. Welcome back Al. I hope the weekend was a good one for you.

[Guy]

:-(
Mine was a mixed bag, but I didn't have the family related pressures of the American Thanksgiving to overly stress things. But still too busy to get all done I'd like. Ah well.

[Ryan]

I'm sorry to hear your weekend was a bad one, Al - hopefully this new week brings you some smiles and laughter...

Thanks for your comments, Ajay and Guy - I must admit I'm finding plenty of motivation from reading the fantastic poems that precede mine. Your last one is a perfect example, Guy - stunning.

Our tears, an ocean
deep and vast. Dividing, yet
keeping us afloat.

Your flowery scent
once sweeter than wine. Soured
and no longer mine.

[M]

Nightlong I drifted
on a wrack-strewn sea, till the
clock awakened me.

Morning brought Gina’s
buttery voice. A gloved hand
waved from a Rolls-Royce.

[Ryan]

Her voice in my mind,
lingering as I wake. Her
scent still on the air.

I put on my mask,
falsely brave. Wishing her here
not six months a'grave.

[M]

Excellent, Guy and Ryan! These are a challenge to follow. Guy, I really like the line “an ocean of lost daydreams.”

A keen wind plucks the
last few leaves; gone now, the gifts
of a dry summer.

With spiderlike roots,
a lone ash weaves what death dis-
dained to take from her.

I’d watched the day’s light
fade from her eyes; and what--God,
help me!--could I save,

of all we had dreamed,
from prairie skies, from torn leaves
settled on a grave?

[M]

I admit, that one
was gloomy, its long hair mussed,
its wild eyes rheumy.