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: FAVORITE LOVE POEMS (HAIKU COLLECTION)
May, 2009
harvest season,
drinking new sake with you;
warm friendship
- etsuko yanagibori
first breath of winter
only the berries remain
remembering red
- jadon rempel
first lemon slices
in the glass of iced tea
sour thoughts
- joanne morcom
saturated drunks
squeeze out of the bars like earth
worms after a rain
- gord mcrae
if only the birds
could feed us pieces of sky
in return for bread.
- king pao fu
september sunset —
crabs explore the skeleton
of a humpback whale
- collin barber
one last tomato
in the bowl
overripe, skin wrinkled
- angela kublik
in spring, the first smell
of mown grass, strange to think I'll
be it when I'm gone
- gord mcrae
one color left
in the popsicle box
summer's end
- collin barber
dark skinned beauty moves
hot vibrating blue rhythm
match tip explodes red
- thomas trofimuk
a puddle of mud . . .
snowflakes sink
into their reflections
- collin barber
off the wave, sliding
down the edge of the world;like
seeing you with him
- unknown
in her cubicle
everything looks real in the
5:40 sunlight
- gord mcrae
almost spring
a silk of wind
through trees
- marjorie buettner
neon puddles
in front of the waterfront bar
sound of a blues piano
- cor van den heuvel
a boring critique
much referencing of foucault
now you're post-modern
- aaron marko
second birthday —
he blows out all
the dandelion seeds
- collin barber
she loves you, on her
day off, takes you in her flat
blue single bed bliss
- thomas trofimuk
summer grasses
all that remain
of the warrior's dreams
- basho
valentine's night
we break up
the chocolate heart
- collin barber
funeral lunch
a faint taste of dirt
still on the radish
- del doughty
cherry blossoms
a taste of the wine
on her lips
- collin barber
90th birthday
flickering candles
he can't blow out
- m. harper
evening stillness
a bonfire log slips
into its own ash
- collin barber
my daughter makes dolls
draws and colours and names them
while bombs in beirut
- thomas trofimuk
in the emperor's bed,
the smell of burnt mosquitoes,
and erotic whispers
- kikaku
thrift store
a box of dolls
with tangled hair
- joanne morcom
morning cup; coffee
she smiles at me sweetly
across the table
- aaron marko
if only the birds
could feed us pieces of sky
in return for bread.
- brian vandervliet
black on white—
a raven's footsteps
on new snow
- patrick m. pilarski
dance twirls a bright blade,
cleaves deep through fabric / soft flesh;
presses heart to heart
- patrick m. pilarski
red satin / legs twine,
dart quick as smoky heels meet
smolder; freeze; tango
- patrick m. pilarski
slow twilight fluid;
sweat and heat and bodies pass;
eyes flash fire – rumba
- patrick m. pilarski
wings shift cold clear air,
softly beat in three/four time;
waltz – a heart takes flight
- patrick m. pilarski
ice is poetry
blunt punctuation, hard thoughts;
words – sharp as angles
- patrick m. pilarski
tall black stilettos
fuck-me shoes back in fashion
STDs rising
- jocelyne verret
more rain:
the cat shreds another
paper bag
- kelly shephard
dark streaks on concrete;
black rain washes the gutters–
poison in the wound
- patrick m. pilarski
blue-eyed blond school girl
luminous smile camouflage
for misshapen leg
- jocelyne verret
house the color of butterflies:
paint chips and flutters away
- kelly shephard
snow falls like feathers;
down to diamonds, pressed tight–
no room for a soul
- patrick m. pilarski
hiroshima blooms
on a dark day in august;
five petals falling
- patrick m. pilarski
spotty memories
dot minds, alzheimer rubs out
the connecting lines
- jocelyne verret
trying to tune in
a song of the soul but my
reception is bad
- laurie macfayden
in an old diary
between pages—
withered rose
- lanie shanzyra p. rebancos
still alive
under all that ice—
the mountain stream
- patrick m. pilarski
endless prairie sky
nowhere to hang memories
only beginnings
- jocelyne verret
i want one hard kiss
one barefoot dance in paris
when the lights go out
- laurie macfayden
under the water
sunlight above
kaleidoscope
- lanie shanzyra p. rebancos
where we were is mist,
where we're going is mist,
only this place
- kelly shephard
under the van gogh
starry night is too cliche
let's make it renoir
- laurie macfayden
fish-market men
take their time putting up tents,
let the rain wash the ocean off
- kelly shephard
my hair looks greyer
in the autumn morning light
mirrors can be cruel
- laurie macfayden
your aftershave climbs
the stairs ahead of your steps
i inhale pleasure
- jocelyne verret
in the foxhole
a pair of soldier's boots
yearns to come home
- lanie shanzyra p. rebancos
day five in paris
dog shit on both pairs of shoes
still it beats working
- laurie macfayden
dead bird under window
maybe found its clearer, brighter place
after all
- kelly shephard
a soldier’s parents
answer call from ottawa
hoping for wounded
- jocelyne verret
cigarette butt smoking on the sidewalk:
ants gather around,
a new religion has begun
- kelly shephard
the air is on fire.
hades belches; furies dance;
buildings melt like wax.
- patrick m. pilarski
grandfather's cologne:
pipe tobacco, peppermints
and ivory soap
- laurie macfayden
mom says wear a dress
my brothers get to wear jeans
who made this dumb rule?
- laurie macfayden
my tree house is filled
with comicbooks and capguns
no barbies allowed
- laurie macfayden
dad says stay inside
play piano for grandma
what's the point she's deaf
- laurie macfayden
During summer time,
the sun is glaring,
and everyone is sweating.
