| contents: current issue | contents: this issue | submissions | email | archive | about Roadrunner |

November 2007 Issue VII:4

Haiku/Senryu

 



Mouse over the area below each group of poems to reveal the authors or click here to reveal all authors.



this rain on the windows of a hawk's wings  
 
what can hold
what can be held
taproot
pearl in the oyster I release
 

 

mountains and rivers...
the gaping mouth
of a just-born bear

Sabine Miller

 

 

 

blood moon
a poppy blooms
in Afghanistan

 

 

akatonbo
do you return each night
to this plum tree?

 

Josh Wikoff

 

 

 

out of the blue
a crow coming out of
a crow


a death
in the mirror
my eyes are closed

Peter Yovu

 

 

 

in the bag of crickets an inexplicable blue feather
on the dry part of the napkin floating in the bowl a moth
your panties soaking in the sink today the crocus bloomed

held together by grass coat hangers of different colors in the pond

Chris Gordon

 

 

 

 
new moon
I use one cell phone
to find another's
 
the tang of late summer brine on my lips
Andrea Grillo

 

 

 

    a blood orange cloud the monks march on

Helen Buckingham

 

 

 

on
the
porch
screen
hatchling walking sticks
could
there
possibly
be
more
 


driving
home
alone
no not alone
the
grass
hopper
re-
minds
me

Lee Gurga

 

 

 

my father's broken worry stone
Allan Burns

 

 

 

 

the taste of dust
vultures circle
a lost star

 
N.C. Whitehead

 

 

 

vexing laughter
the equanimity of things
that just aren’t

 

retrogression’s onus
an arcane moral code
must be followed

Jeff Winke

 

 

 

i can't find the time destroyed by the past
out of nowhere isn't
sadness sneaks into a poem about the red gladiola

a pond turtle rises from 200 million years

marlene mountain

 

 

 

 

fading tan a peso in the penny jar

 
Bob Lucky

 

 

 

nothing matters how green it gets
rather listen to night with nothing on
bird me catch me
John Stevenson

 

 

 

walking among the dead
all the flowers I avoid

 
Karen R. Porter

 

 

 

 

a barge ascends
  within the lock
     spring dusk

 
Matthew Paul

 

 

 

 

after
the boiling point
a robin's song

 
Laryalee Fraser

 

 

 

 

mountain pass
the pressure of silence  
fills my being
 

erect sunflower the shadow shrinks into itself

Kala Ramesh

 

 

 

in deep woods the darkness around your voice
mountain view one thought builds upon another
all those stars one nipple then the other

winter I call a tree by name

Gregory Hopkins

 

 

morning breeze garden oak throwing shadows into itself
not knowing its name who am I to the wild grass
blue metals fastening the air dragonflies
John W. Sexton

 

 

This scar I've come to love the autumn badlands
 
  Dumplings steaming in the face I've lost
Grotesque hands stroke the withered grass to life
 
  Perfect skies
crossing the Tropic of Cancer
early for work
Paul Pfleuger, Jr.

 

 

 

in dress uniform
Death offers up
his seat

 

Jason Sanford Brown

 

 

 

Haiku Sequence in the Sufi Spirit

    In which chamber
of your heart, beloved,
    is our bed?

    your breast
against the moon
    induces prayer

    not letting go
a piece of honey
    on your lip

    withered grass
on a dry plain--
    rain on me

 
William Ramsey

Copyright © 2004-2007 by Roadrunner Haiku Journal. All rights revert to the authors upon publication.