transcendent laughter
echoes of an absent friend
smile indelible
ice on an east wind
armorer of branch and stem
murderer of birds
courageous dreamers
at liberty’s golden door
welcomed as vermin
big wheels big engine
defiantly sucking fuel
on road to nowhere
lion behind bars
onlookers too fat to run
too timid to fight
carnage on youtube
flags forever at half mast
guns as solution
evil ascendant
forging fear into hatred
ignorant of time
raging on paper
sophisticated screaming
punching at shadows
Michael Brandt, Arena
Wish
I would love to learn
To write Japanese haiku
Perhaps tomorrow.
William Robichaud, Barneveld
White turns to copper
as syzygy completes the
mysterious orb
Full moon in shadow
appears like a jelly fish
swimming through sea clouds
Movement in tandem
choreographed flight and dive
two pelicans fish
With one leg outstretched,
balanced, beak pointing to sky
pelican yogi
Whirling, twirling dance
like dervishes in the sky
tree swallows in flight
A whale’s silver fin
pierces the calm blue water
we practice patience
Milky white breakers
Come charging in like lions
manes of ocean spray!
Like Gemini’s stars
we revel in our kinship
twin sisters, best friends
Carolyn White, Mt. Horeb
On the River Seine (A Haiku Journey)
Our flight to Paris
the bearlike man in a wool cap
most frightened of all.
Sunrise in Paris
our boat moored near Eiffel Tower —
strong hot black coffee.
Eiffel Tower tourists,
and seven French soldiers poised
with cold black machine guns.
Van Gogh’s mill at Galette,
we crane to view gardens — blocked
by a beer truck.
85 degrees in April
on the boat deck on the Seine
breathing with Buddha.
Irises in early bloom,
climbing the steep narrow path
to Van Gogh’s grave.
Sleeping on roof ledge
above a small Montmartre café,
tournee du chat noir.
Monet’s water garden
ignoring the tourists —
deep red water lilies.
French café singer
Non, je ne Regrette Rien,
an old woman weeps.
White cliffs above the Seine
even brighter on the water
seven white swans.
Light rain falling
at D-Day Memorial —
boys play war games.
In a pasture near Caen
riddled by bomb craters,
Normande cows eat spring grass.
Honfleur harbor
moored near the fish market,
scent of lilacs.
Fishing village café
before noon, an old woman
sips Bordeaux Petite Verdot.
Free wine in the bar,
an old man can’t find
his way back to the boat.
Late afternoon bottle
of Syrah, she tells the same story
three times in an hour.
Long bus ride to Paris,
as passengers snooze,
tour guide savors a macaron.
Escargot in garlic and
wine sauce — one woman
eats just buttered bread.
Fields and fields of yellow
canola flowers, but not
a single red poppy.
Lost in Roissy,
we walk past a cemetery
and through a Japanese garden.
Last night in Paris,
walking from the pizza café
under a full moon.
Jerry McGinley, Waunakee