Before abyss come the clock-tower.
The little boy by midnight asks—
her look, lost in the candlelight—
the nature of empty books lain dormant,
the moonless night above a bridge
when there is nothing left to lose—
in sedimentary smiles she sighs:
when there is nothing
there is love.
Just a drink of you
young hearts turn to spring’s caress
burning in your waves.
Enfold in me
your light, your life–
sweet summer child
turn not your color from my heart,
the scent of pine trees,
sculpted in the dawning,
where all of nature is the swell at your sweet breast,
the gathered breaths cultivating
convalesced coercion of my soul.
Breath to breath, I seek your notes,
the tantalized texture of your smile
writhes still in me, in places
only faith should know.
You drink me, though you do not know
the taste of my desire–
the character in the caricature–
myself, I, wilting in that shade,
in those dark places where your lips and light
shall never know, nor ever sing.
Bridge beckons bright tides
Through eyes, the starlit twinkle—
Hearts, freely given.
* Technically not a Haiku, given the topic and the lack of seasonal groundings, and without the cynical or oft-humorous stylings of a Senryu, but done in the same style. A short work, but I hope it satisfies all the same!
Barefoot,
Sundress summers
Bloomed in yellow visions
With the milky drink of your lips—
Child love.
My latest submission for the gathering that is One Shot Wednesday. Returning this week to a style that’s been an old favorite of mine – the cinquain – for the purposes of capturing that summer swell. Lord knows we’ve had the weather for it here.
By Iquanyin Moon, for One Shoot Sunday.
I cannot see you anymore.
It ends in solitude,
The salient serration of your survival
Severed all trace of tactile touch—
I reached for you and you recoiled till
Whispers on the lovers’ trail
Turned it all to desert and to dust—
You went alone into the waste.
You are naked to me,
Wind-blown wraith wreathed in
Dust—blow, ye wind blow, for you
Are nothing, breaths and breathing
Touch upon the earth and fade away—
Just footsteps sifting in the sand
And Time.
Time covers all.
The Waking Den 