Waiting at the port

Sun-

burnt skin —

    gazing with

        horizon eyes;

listlessly the tugboats sigh goodnight.

A Tetractys for Marion at toads

Carpe Diem Haiku - Courtyard Blues

this empty courtyard -
shards of broken pottery
scent of lavender

Linked to Carpe Diem

Louder than silence

not much was said

before we parted ways —

yet the echo

of your teaspoon stirring

still wake me up at night

Linked to Open Platform at toads

Trying

Poetry is trying
  just like lying
  relates to love
it's often black
and sometimes lack
   anything
but minor keys.
Let it burn you,
   like her letters,
but save the ash

Linked to Tuesday Platform at toads

Not yet driftwood really

I’m both driftwood and

an acorn.

disappointment

and potential.

If only I could

chlorophyll,

I might catch the sky,

stretch and oak myself.

    

Instead I willow

bending way

too

low

not knowing how

       to grow.

For Magaly's prompt at toads

Perfection

Perfection 
is a pockmarked chin,
the dented delftware,
or a greasy fingerprint
       in a book unread.

Perfection 
is a day between,
the sickle moon
and lukewarm tea 
       shared with friends.

Perfection is what was
        and is.

Linked to Toads

Close to midnight

soon 
it’s midnight… 
silence
sound of nought
but crawl of claws
on gravel 
     footsteps
muted   far    away

laboured breath
from rotting jaws

heartbeats racing
   twisted bedsheets
wet with sweat
    when…
suddenly 
    a clock
strikes      twelve

and moonbeamed
from my throat 
         erupt 

howls for blood

Linked to dVerse Quadrille with Victoria

Tan Tenga - Paulownia

from the paulownia
without a breath of wind —
falling leaves              © Nozawa Boncho

crying for our memory

loss of secret tryst        © Myself

Linked to Carpe Diem

      

Carpe Diem Haiku - Dawn

tiptoeing --
robe still wet with dew
this break of dawn

Linked to Carpe Diem

You, too soon

You, my decadence of crypt

the blowtorch locust, you

condemning me to

urban jungles,

to the streets of

filth and coconuts

to blisters

and to beg for cabbage soup.

You, seducer;

you, a flesh of ladybug;

you, a curse of blurry aftermaths;

you, a carrot for this ass of me;

you, too soon, too late for me.

A great wordlist to work from -- thank you Shawna :-)

Haiku Special "ripple in the lake" by Joyce Lorenson

sunbeam on its waves
for bejeweled summer gown -
water's still too cold

Linked to Carpe Diem

Cogito ergo sum

existence -
a shallow gulp of air
before she sleeps

Linked to Carpe Diem

A carpenter apprentice

When you build your home,
carpenter apprenticed, from
its walls to roof, from
the carpets to its paint
carefully selected
(you might think),

and afterwards you invite
some friends for barbecue, and
you’re sitting on your porch
clinging to a lukewarm bottle
silenced from what’s done.

There is a hollow formed inside
an emptiness (a craving)
much like the poet’s empty
notebook begs for ink…
and you wonder (looking at the stars)
if you’ve built your house or if
it is the house creating you.

Winter moonlight

moonlit winter -
walks his silvered path
to icicle songs

Linked to Carpe Diem

Skyline

silver moonlight
fades in floodlights -
a proud architect

Linked to Carpe Diem

Carpe Diem Haiku - Sound

even in silence
sound of footfalls in mud -
shadowed

Linked to Carpe Diem

white like snow

victorious -

mountain almonds blooming

white like snow

her autumn kimono

still wet with secrets

Linked to Carpe Diem Kai

Hallow's eve

The weight of darkness, waiting for the stars to fall, smells of soil. Old oak-trees, skeletal, brush against my sweaty face; their twigs are claws; laced with hunger. An owl hoots with desperation of an empty kiln. Suddenly awake, the bats leave the belfry, their eyes a-glow. Silence between my heartbeats diminishes as fog from rotting bogs, but still I hear his footsteps, confidently striding, crushing gravel.

shooting stars

dissipate my fantasy —

hallow’s eve

-----------
Haibun linked to Carpe Diem (shooting stars) and dVerse Poetics where Toni wants us to write poetry on Halloween.

Jisei - a crocus

always uphill -
pilgrim's broken cart
lies discarded
but in meadow grass
a blooming crocus

Linked to dVerse-MTB

Carpe Diem Tan Renga - Sumitaku Kenshin's out of the washbowl

Out of the washbowl
I scoop up,
my distorted face        (Sumitaki Kenshen)

remembering the silence
of your moonless sleep

Linked to Carpe Diem