H  A  I  K  U     S  P  I  R  I  T
Haiku Spirit Issue #14 

JUNE 1998




The first of May ~
yes, yes indeed,
oh yes!


Jim Norton



How to tell all these buds?
A late frost forecast


Gilles Fabre





Pink cherry blossom
heavy snowfall ~
where am I am going?


Sean O'Connor





Just for a moment
they came tumbling down
spring snowflakes


Bill Wyatt





First day of spring
has time to spare


Ken Jones





spring evening shower ~
back from the maternity
I wash one dinner set





cherry blossoms
all over the pavement, the road:
here come the sweeper


Gilles Fabre





Against this mountain
more and more distinct
~ a rainbow


Patrizia Interlandi





Lighting the stove
I wake up my companion
a sleepy fly





Through the mist
the drumming of little hooves
on frozen pasture





Long beams of roaring light
beneath the dawn moon
the big trucks





Heavy coils of smoke
from new-lit fires
slowly the day begins





Paving stones
those that go clunk!
and those that don't





Oil lamp in each hand
unable to reach the switch
that isn't there


Ken Jones
(taken from a haibun: Spring Solitary)



Rensaku on the Death of a Patient


"I'm okay"
and he promptly died ~

you are, friend, you are.





His death confirmed
beside him, his peg feed~
still feeding him.





We root for pound coins
his dead eyes stare at nurses
~ as usual.





Bright morning sunlight
this room with his naked corpse ~
everything whiter.





Shaving his corpse
how much his beard has grown
since this morning.





This hillside,
the thud of clay on his coffin ~
a lone bird sings





A month since his death
sorting the box of ward socks
~ his name on one.


Sean O'Connor

(A rensaku is not a sequence. It is bringing together a number of haiku written around the same event or experience.
Each of its haiku maintains its independence and can be sited on its own elsewhere.)





Neon fish swimming
as i cast my vote


Maeve O'Sullivan





On this moonless night
meditating in the dark ~
full moon overhead


Yuri Runov





Sitting silently
doing nothing ~ spring arrives
all by itself


Bill Wyatt





a dog,
scratching at a door
with a wreath on it


Gilles Fabre





Widower's dead
his furniture burnt
only his woodstack left


Ken Jones





Sing, bird, sing ~
help us find
a name for the baby


Gilles Fabre





Fleece bedecked with cherry leaves
she chews her curd


Ken Jones





Where to now?
At the center of the room,
A bug, pauses


Gilles Fabre




Between Kingdom and Republic
a silent pot holed road


Ken Jones

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