Identity is, Something each one of us has, Must each be alone?

Water flowing swift, Takes me where it wants to lead, To a better me.

Stars pin-point the sky, Like characters in a book, We haven’t read yet.

When the moon shines bright, And night is still all around, Hope and goodness rise.

Singing in the trees, Laughter from the ground below, Carefree things we miss.

Time’s not on my side, When I try to do what I, Want to accomplish.

When I’m deep in words, Hours can go by without, My being aware. Is it kind of sad? That life can go by so fast, While we write of it.

Here’s your pillow soft, And your bed in darkness lies, See you at first light.

Sudden change might be, Scary but it also brings, Opportunity.

When it’s time to go, And the sunset’s beautiful, Gladly head for home.

With that sense of right, Save and then flick out the light, Story has been told.

Birdsong in the light, Smell of coffee fresh and clean, Call us to the day.

Stories write themselves, In a way that leaves no doubt, Magic does exist.

It is time to think, Of flowers blooming brightly, To give us some hope.

This is the last haiku of April. For the next six days, I’ll be posting story parts. Each story’s a gift, And together they add up, To give us all worlds.

With the color pink, Paint so many pretty things, And not just for girls.

When we write we are, Putting pieces of ourselves, Into a bottle.

We resemble flies, Buzzing on our planet’s corpse, Except we can love.

For today and the next five days, I plan to post a haiku. I’m having some problems with my computer (no data loss), so it might delay things, but I hope I’ll be able to post a story part on the last six days of April. If you get the call, In an instant ofContinue reading “Haiku – April 19”

Today was supposed to be a story part, but I was delayed, so I’ve decided to post a haiku today and a story part tomorrow. Up on a shelf there, Is a book waiting to be, Read and loved again.

Imagination, Is the root of good fiction, Publish its flowers.

Tiny crowds within, Our bodies that we won’t know, Without microscopes.

If I write nothing, My characters will be hurt, And so I must write.

Stories always change, From idea to finished work, Don’t get too attached.

Time will always win, We cannot live forever, Yet we do in love.

What if they say yes? Then a journey will begin, Is that good or bad?

Lazy afternoons, Spent sitting outside with you, Are just what I need.

Unwritten stories, Languish in a Writer’s mind, They must be told soon.

Tiny spark of life, One cell searching for a womb, To become our hope.

Surf pounds on the beach, Sunrise just an hour away, Be ready for life.

Love’s really something, Like a rainbow it is all, That is good for us.

If there is a chance, To do some good for others, Take it for yourself.

Birdsong a flower, Fresh with early morning dew, The night has been long.

Birds soar making us look graceless but our imagination flies high.

The vaccines will come, Now we must wait patiently, For that to occur.

Time has its strange ways, Through unhappy times it slows, Good times go too fast.

An eight-minute walk, If you could travel by light, Sun’s both far and near.

A white church stands still, Silently asking us to, Be kind to ourselves.

Trust is the key that, Unlocks the door to friendship, Do you change the lock?

Great white banks of snow, Frosting heaped on a cake that, Only nature bakes.

What we build right now, Is a foundation for the, Dreams of the future.

Thank you to all those, Who share good things with us all, You brighten my day.

Time is a monster, That takes from us all we love, But gives us that love.

Poisoned images, Work their way into our hearts, What are we sharing?

Finishing things up, Means less time for the moment, But more time later.

If you work hard now, You will be much rewarded, But when is unknown.

When we do damage, Most things can be fixed but not, Always in our hearts.

Wind and snow blowing, Gray sky will bring a lot more, Till this is over.

Cultivate goodness, It will reward all of us, But maybe not now.