working in pastel
I walk a pathway unknown
my fingers are sore

trees in purple light
black trunks look at black water
white smothering all

scampering along
I hear you in the branches
a flying squirrel

driving through darkness
thinking of missing places
captured in photos

here I sit
waiting for inspiration
fighting for popcorn

Christmas thunder storms
driving rain drops before it
Clouds barking loudly

standing in shadows
grinding my day away
working through quiet

I wake to the wind
driving sister before it
she gnaws on my house

Lines on dirty white
Remind me of ink drawings
Branches in the snow
Just follow your feet
Beauty is where you find it

waiting in the rain
I watch snow flakes being born
time to go get beans

holiday moments
filled with stress
brings holiday joy

crossing a threshold
light is begining to grow
cold nights still ahead

stepping on ice
I am reminded
of winters
ebb and flow

even in strange ground
haiku arise like flowers
only a moment

heavy grey, hangs low
they slip in over blue skies
the clouds match my mood

waiting for bad news
minor compared to most
still makes today suck

thinking of long nights
I look forward to more light
one more day to go

long winter shadows
a world of two dimensions
following our sun

Soft sounds of snow
falling slowly from the heavens
folks creeping about in cars
sliding their feet

Broken prose

Waiting for noodles
Listening to others pain

----------------------------------------------

Beggar buckets
and incessant ringing

----------------------------------------------

Watching old snow run
I ponder where my feet are

Doug's Haiku

Making Cheerful pots
I sit in my studio
Happy Birthday Doug

old steel on pavement
shoveling yesterdays clouds
my snowblower blues

sitting in his boat
on the side of a semi
a cracked fisherman

Love Tanka

A Tanka. Inspired by Japans Heian Era poets , Ono no Komachi ( 834-?) and Izumi Shikibo ( 974-1034)

day walking apart
our foot steps shadow each other
old love connects us
like seeds waiting for sunlight
to burst forth as spring flowers

moving through my day
I miss the sun on my face
time to wear flannels

blue shadows rolling
rocks hide under a blanket
looking like footsteps

I watch the snow go by
one flake at a time

I see the drifts grow
one flake at a time

I see the Clouds empty themselves
one flake at a time

And I remember the power of one

cold sunlight surrounds
shadows of white, line the trees
I listen to birds

stepping on fresh snow
I smell winters white light
cold shades following

pan fried toast and tea
my children gathered around,
snow falling outside

Snow falling so slowly
My Dad and I slip out
Walking in a dark garage
We find a dusty box
filled with bottles of brew
My moms hard Cider

winter gatherings
warm my bones from the inside
hot tea and cocoa

fluffy snow flakes fall
old man winter settles in
I love my warm bed

walking through metal
light snow flakes tickle my face

winter rides a south wind

hiding in branches
today's eagle seems unsure
of yesterdays snow

old wet roads ahead
new memories left behind
Decembers first snow

pencils on paper
my children do their homework
with the dogs barking

sitting at my desk
searching my mind for Haiku
I stumble through words

clouds squishing sunlight
children meander in dusk
waiting for Christmas

a rock and his lover wait
he sleeps while she regrows
both of the earth
both waiting to be what was
Blue jays keep vigil

night sneaks in so fast
snow falling into water
solstice approaching

sunlight glowing white
I see them in the tree tops
eagles still remain

phone zombies abide
staring at little screens
swiping their fingers
one by one, they go

you see me, I smile
fighting gravity daily
twisted branches reach

I hear the spirits creeping
    I fear the other side
I feel their wings speaking
    I worry about my bride
I wonder what they mean
    I only hear whats seen

reading others words
Ginsberg uses to many
but I like his poems

I close my eyes
   I see thistle
surrounded by clouds
   the thistle, it waves

soft shuffle of leaves
witch marks on the radio
must me hallows eve

waiting for children
I listen to the gnashing
of  my radio

walking in shadow
I see the mountain that was
I will remember

I love you.

Thanks Wife.

I love you too

yellow sunlight drips

my dog rattles his food bowl

just another day

treading broken land
we meander among stumps
building our ambush

shadows creep the web
lines of lies mixed with half truths
election signs wait

my mind has been a blank
my thoughts flitter and are lost
I often wonder where they go
Where they come from

Getting ready for hunting
Fatigue over the election
Things that need doing build
Racing from thing to thing

I want to haiku
I want to paint
I want to write
I have things to create

I also have Children to Raise

I hear the rocks hum
they wait sitting for a song
echos in our heart

sad wet leaves
yesterday you flew
today you drown

broken Haiku day

driving down Hamline
yellow leaves run here and there
---------------------------------------

On Monday morning
      my coffee has no soul

there is a quiet place
   where words are born
and poems are made
     it is filled with noise

things I have seen
     and felt
are but shadows
     of my mind
dancing here
     leaving me
to wonder there

hazy and brown
     everywhere life
searches for water
     Bakersfield valley

lining a sidewalk
their leaves burning in the cold
falls fire stands tall

yesterdays leaves danced
    they wore their best colors
today they are gone
     and the trees lay bare

sunlight on its face
    above roof tops
blue grey clouds behind
    red leaf hair peaks

I am trying to write other forms of poetry.
 I find the lack of form and rules sorta like being naked.
I never realized how much the 5-7-5  help form my words
I wonder if it is strength or weakness

above the water
winters waiting white as snow
birch branches stand nude

I see the sprinkle of colorful leaves
as the tree limbs flow in the wind
the shadow of my pen is writing

I love how brilliant the leaves get
   before they die
It gives me hope I will burn brightest
     before the end
shadows of my paper look like skin

I see the leaves
  dancing in the wind
the colors go from green
  then fade to red
the naked shapes beneath
   waiting to reveal

hot light on my face
I see the colors dancing
graffiti rolls by

-------

sleeping in the sun
my mind wanders many roads
I dream of haiku

I took a road trio out to California this last week. I wrote a bunch of Haiku on the trip.

ditches filled with green
farmers waiting to harvest
low clouds over corn
-------

Small black silhouettes
standing in yellow pastures
wilting sunflowers
-------

large silver silos
waiting to be filled with grain
standing in clusters
-------
rolling plains around
adorned dreadlocks with wood beads
tell me where I'm at
------

yellow grasses sway
same roosters different sky line
with horses yelling
-------

head stones among sage
famous dead outlaws lie lost
what a view from here
------

bushes that look like buffalo
shadows of shadows
a land filled with ghost
( not a 5-7-5, but I like it.)
------

black sky and black ground
my eyes see no difference
Arizona sleep
-------

fighting in the dark
white and red battle it out
Hello Sir Helgi
------

palm fronds on hot wind
sushi served on white platters
Santa Monica
------

on top of a hill
stone blocks and trees stands Getty
many eyes looking
------

awake before Dawn
I am surprised to be cold
at Great Western War
------

clanking of bottles
I sit thinking of haiku
last nights reverie
-----

next to a shit truck
I'm pondering yesterday
trying to let go
------

Owls in the night
what are they talking about
hopefully good things
------

many miles seen
watching our shadow fly by
desert to grassland.
-------

The whole trip is now memory.

biting tomatoes

walking to my car
a white tree

trees gently swaying
my body is singing hope
riding through sunlight


I noticed the yellow light as I was driving home. I can also feel the latent excitement about going on a road trip. Even on the warm sun beams I feel fall. Fall is no longer creeping it is Sauntering.

rain deepens their hue
they stand proud in the ditches
splashes of color

Driving home today I could see the grey clouds moving in from the north.  The temp is down about twenty degrees and I could see dead weeds mixed with fall flowers.The corn stalks have turned yellow and the rows of unpicked corn stand lonely. I think it is great how when things get wet they change color. They get a richer color.

Summer's glow made faint
my heart feels fall's arrival
cool winds shake the grass

Today is the first day that feels like fall. I have seen the signs and the days are shorter. But today, I can feel fall wandering in. Cool winds and the sun light feel fainter.

shiny wet deck boards
branches sway like green sea waves
grey clouds and I creep

I feel heavy and slow looking out at the grey clouds. I see small birds flying around feeding. I can hear the crows calling to each other. Feeling like it is going to rain all day I accept that I may have to finish putting the deck together tomorrow. At least the rain can no longer sneak into my house.

I find the mix of green and fall colors fantastic. It is like the trees are frosted in them. Hot spots of color visually yelling look at me, look at me.


hot spots of fall burst through green
yelling at my eyes

lesson for today
all things erode over time

trees mimic the sun
when summer is ending
circles in circles

haikus come from rain
my muse enjoys weeping clouds
my lawn needs cutting

cold winds bring tapping
wet spots appear on cement
summer is falling

waiting in the white
I hear the glossy pages
hiding from rain drops

five seven then five
looking for words that will cut
mention the seasons

quietly breathing
I hear pages shuffling
sailing seas of ink

through a misty morn
I see trees dressing in fall
coffee and bacon

under the new porch
telling tall fishing stories
cider and cigars

through a misty morn
I see trees dressing in fall
coffee and bacon

walking misty streets
water dripping off green leaves
my steps echo loud

Fighters in the mist

building brotherhood
each one testing our mettle
we fought in the rain

grey wings in sunlight
gliding over emerald corn
sunbeams in thunder

I saw two cranes gliding into land on the edge of a Corn field. There were dark clouds in the background and a few sunbeams broke through and lit up the cranes. It was like the world was moving but the cranes were still. It was a perfect moment of changed perspective.

When I sit still I feel as though I should move.
When I am moving I feel as though I should sit still.
What lies between Moving and sitting still?

thunder comes with cold
it creeps up slow from the west
kids play in shadow

my shadow and I
Listening to cicadas
we walk on pavement

Rambling past Haiku

 I often wonder about the other world. The one most people feel and fear but hardly ever see.
The other world where our loved ones have moved onto. I must admit that in the fall I feel as though I live on the edge of that world. Less so in spring but I feel the trees and rivers calling me in the spring. I wonder what makes the other world work. I also am curious if the spirits of the land have an impact. I figure they must. I wonder how heaven and hell tie into all of this. These are things I have been pondering and reading about as far back as I can remember. I have a few ideas about how it all works ,but I see it from the limited view of me.

searching for ground
I sit listening to whispers
I feel dogs barking

her funeral

memories recalled
voices raised while petals fell
echos of laughter

liberary

west wind thunder fades
water sparkles like diamonds
the trees are still wet

crappie Haiku

none of us get out
all that is left is echos
petals in transit

rough

words with out meaning
an echo of life once lived
brown moths at morning

Nicole ReNae Lund, good bye

weaving webs of love
I slip through the veil silent
my leaving brings tears

Three Fer

I smell tobacco
sitting in the pouring rain
thinking about ants

-------------------------

a Spirit passing
marks my front door for ages
I hear white thunder

------------------------

running through droplets
listening to the clouds drums
watching sandals splash

Canadia

hidden behind trees
black griffons fight for honor
in fields of clover

Fer HAnsy

digital balls bounce
political posts rambling
Hans is sick of crap

WW

hidden in the pines
canvas springs up like mushrooms
echos of laughter

The Moth

I saw a snow white moth fluttering around in the shop today.

It was fragile and yet, it still struggled to survive.

I do not know where it went, but I hope it made it outside.

white wings struggling

looking for a ray of sun

hope takes many forms

Boris

my cat the bastard
for sixteen years you annoyed
good luck on the wheel

1st cat

knocking things over
big green eyes watching it all
Sleep well my old friend

Garage

working in my home
I smell rain and hear thunder
bird sounds of late May

Practice

charging on a bridge
shield to shield pole arm and spear
dust flies in the wind

MAY

Summer creeping in
new green leaves whipped by hot winds
I hear whispering

Patio

mesquite wood burning
plum blossoms cling to branches
we wait for a feast

bubbles

If our existence is really all happenstance, and there is no divine being, it is still a miracle.

driving

I see no sunlight
even when the sky is clear
watching a half moon

fishing

I see a white tree
it limbs remind me of snow
springs petals burst forth

Dang nab it

I lost my Haiku
our computer just died
white petals in wind

A new stretch

swiming from below
I see a trout acting odd
Holy Crap, Fish On!

Ramps

hiding under oaks
listening to a river
springs wild onions

Rays plaace

hammer axe and spear
arctic fox and river bear
playing in the yard

Wrong fish

under limestone bluffs
sneaking up on a sucker
not knowing who's who

Boy on the Rush

sun dappled water
a trout river flowing by
untying fly line

Todashi

Samurai of plains
I drink the blood of my foes
I always stay thin

Tuesday's Trophy

Hiding by a Log
an old brookie is waiting
My fish has no Lip!

Monday Monday

my hands grinding tools
echos of water and rocks
occupy my mind

Sundays april fools

So many people
stomping along our river
yet the trout remain

Sarturday morning

laying in my bed
I hear the wind and see snow
damn it to hell spring

Today

grinding through my day
I listen to river ghosts
daydreaming of trout

Willow

walking a river
I follow the soggy path
reading the water

Blue Bird

making our coffee

i see a blue bird singing

defying grey clouds

or

blue bird in red limbs
clinging to a maple tree
greeting the grey clouds

March Snow

snow on the branches
spring only for a moment
trees are now waking

waiting

gathering March snow
here for a moment then gone
riding an east wind

On the Kinni

waiting in water
floating a nymph through some rocks
fooling little fish

The moment

fishing frustration
wondering what I'm Doing
Oh! A fish is on!

St pats day

getting Jameson
large white snow flakes falling down
thinking of parades

Meeting the Trimbelle

little stream swelling
a falcon cries out for food
a walk at twilight

Record day

what a warm day. 70 degrees is a record for this day. The south wind is strong and blowing hard. trees whip in the wind, flags look flat. I can hear vacuums and children screaming happy yelps. While the dogs whine at the door wanting to chase the kids. I wish I lived in the country.

plumb branches dancing
while my neighbor cleans her car
dogs of summer wait

Monday fly fishing

searching for my zen

I flail flies at the river 

waiting to connect 

not haiku

Went fishing today. I can only think that a river with that much life in it, must have a spirit.

ever thirsty
ever moving
bounding with life

I watched caddies flies today land on the water and dive to the bottom to lay their eggs. I find it sad that in the process of making life a great many insects die.

watching Caddies swim
dieing to lay their next brood
the trout and I mourn

idle sunday

fresh breath of spring air
muscles tired from winter
small breeze brings good news

Friday

spring swans flying east
snow blowing in from the south
waiting for new leaves

in the Dark

smell of tobacco

west winds bring me my answers

praying into dawn

Driving by

Standing arms up roots deep I see a one eyed tree. It faces the west into the setting sun. I only see it for a second then I drive by.

a tree with one eye
gazing late into the sun
I wonder whats seen

I stand here arms to the sky
praying for summers return

Driving home

South winds rushing North
watching winter melt away
so many raptors

I feel

I feel like Haiku
syllables painting pictures
simple words that cut

20 year flowers

Things to think about.
Lilys  torn by cat teeth, Gnawed on flowers still hold their meaning. They were given in love and sit just for viewing. In some ways the torn petals have more meaning. Like love that endures. They look a little tattered but are still beautiful in their own way.

petals torn by teeth
sitting in a vase waiting
glowing from with in.

Haikuuu

one ladder remains
a barn collapsed on itself
sunlight on shingles

Fly fishing in Feb.

thunder walking north
water tapping on my hood
Flies in the River
knee deep in finding my peace
no place I would rather be

Rebuttal

We ride to battle our voices as trumpets
Our faces shine from with in
We talk of past glories smiling at the memories
Griffons ride on our shoulders
Great craftsmen make our gear

We wear our armor  with pride
For we are always in battle among the throng
Knowing our spirits are stronger
Our shields and helms shine
With the skill of our smiths

We fight as well on foot as on horse
We are Men and Women of many talents
We defend what ours with brothers and sisters
Sword and shield, Pole-axe, and spear
We are Northshield and harbor no fear