March of 23 in Haiku

I record this near daily practice not because I know anything about writing haiku, but because I love the snapshots they afford — sometimes better than anything else I might write about a given day. Enjoy!

3/1
First chapter 12 point
one inch margins, submit
by five. Rinse. Repeat.

3/2
Raindrops tap skylight
wet dimples that slide and blur
catalpa branches.

3/3
News from Ohio
focuses on folks’ anger
not on the poisons.

3/4
Walnut coffee cake,
butternut soup, and salmon.
I’ll press the napkins!

3/5
Dirty, twisted mask
lying curbside, so forlorn —
like a weird sage punk.

3/6
Six men tap brackets,
forms numbered with blue stencils.
A new foundation.

3/7
Two thousand plus steps
to Chase Ave, the halfway point.
Look at your phone much?

3/8
Winter is ending.
We know by the length of days,
crocus poking up.

Gut pain lower left.
Slept hard from noon until three.
Sipping water now.

3/9
White husky returns.
Slower, stiffer than before.
She’ll still stare you down.

3/10
Midnight scroll for son
reconsidering majors.
Must we exclude math?

3/11
It’s above freezing
but snow drifts down anyway.
Casual, flirty.

3/12
The hat you gave me
abandoned on the park bench.
Back I went for it.

3/13
Jane offers me stock.
Homemade. Chicken. I say yes.
Mushroom risotto!

3/14
Cold percussive rain
patters my umbrella, code
I don’t understand.

3/15
Texas court about
to go rogue, undo rulings
by FDA. FUCK!

3/16
The beech shadows stretch
across neighbor’s lawn, somehow
looking sweet, lively.

3/17
One potato, two
potato, grey rot. Happy
Saint Patrick’s Day. Oy!

3/18
Etsy nightmare sends
me outdoors. I smell spring and
decide to close shop.

3/19
Brave daffodils pop.
A cold wind, a sapphire lake.
Cedar branches flap.

3/20
Crows and blue jays squawk.
The music house is silent.
Then, a dead sparrow.

3/21
Found: the two of spades.
Was freedom on your mind then
or curious dread?

3/22
Clang, clang, clang, and whoosh.
Then, T squealing to a halt.
Above: dusty blue.

3/23
A head full of snot.
Pink stripe blessedly absent.
Soon, a second bath.

3/25
“Remember,” says rake
and leaf mold, “all the seasons
that have come before.”

3/26
The old tin liner —
seasons of corrosion, rust —
the bottom gives way.

3/27
Tiny maroon blades
emerge out of winter’s dirt.
Come June: peonies.

3/28
Rain dimples the deck
also speckles my glasses.
It’s a hot soup day.

3/29
Step outside and walk.
Chilly enough to go back
and grab a down coat.

3/30
Soon after sunset
five planets will line up, shine.
I won’t see them though.

3/31
First indictment day.
Thank you SBJ. Thank you!
Sweet baby jesus.

 

 

13 thoughts on “March of 23 in Haiku

  1. Joanne in Maine

    So, what are the rules of this Haiku? I think I might like to give it a whirl on the desk top calendar this month- take a break from TRUMP on the calendar.

    Reply
    1. deemallon Post author

      The only rule I’m following is the number of syllables — 5, 7, 5. I think it’s maybe supposed to be about nature and maybe there are rules about line breaks, I don’t know.

      Reply
  2. RainSluice

    It’s been so similar here. Down to the daffodils.
    and I thought you were north of me?

    Above, not a haiku by the rules but I like the image. Your haiku are wonderful to read as I love to imagine where you were at that moment. Your photos say it all, too. Amazing.
    I’m procrastinating the packing and shipping of my art work… because I can. There is still time isn’t there? And, to procrastinate feels good today because it is Sunday. Monday and Tuesday I’ll be working – but nothing difficult. How nice!

    xoxo

    Reply
  3. Tina

    Haiku .. I’m going to have to look that up. The simplicity of it yet so full of flavor. Very interesting 🤔

    Reply
  4. Marti

    Thee are insightful and crisp; what I call “staccato” writing…I so related to 3/28 and enjoy how you do this and that brings me to:

    Wind fiercely howls,
    Ground too cold for sowing
    Seeds are patient.

    Reply

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