Haiku Writing from A non Poet

 

Although I've written a few poems and had a few published, I can't call myself a poet. I say I'm a po.

Despite all the poetic literature courses, despite reading poetry, I still don't understand things like iambic pentameter. I know the format for a sonnet, but that's about it. More important, I know what moves me and what I like.

One thing I like, even love, are haikus. The intensity of so much crammed into three lines of 5,7,5 syllables intrigues me. Playing with syllables and words is fun.

I've written many haikus often using them as journal entries. Sometimes I even illustrate them with drawings, although I'm not an artist either. I find if I write a haiku, it stimulates my fiction writing.

This morning I woke with a haiku in mind about the wife facing the death of her husband, a man I knew well once long ago.

From wife to widow

in seconds, the hospital

bed awaits clean sheets

Here's some journal samples:

Autumn, a time for

roasted chestnuts, fondue,

Nouveau Beaujolais

 

The chimes are singing,

dancing in the Tramontane.

It's cozy in bed.

 

Our cuckoo clock chimes

does not tell the real time.

Rebel cuckoo!

 

The tea kettle boils.

Water poured into the cup

Now the morning starts