welcome to the haikutimes
Issue #120, Betasso Preserve, November 20, 2005. Haiku writers Susan Peterson, Krista Morien, Sara Benson, Sanjay Rajan, David Harper, Patrick Lynn and Jonathan Machen explore and write haiku in one of Boulder's earliest open-space acquisitions.
on a sunny bench
sending my prayers to Teslin
on the other side
for days afterwards
skirting the depressions
where the snow remains
jolted out of
daydreams by two mountain lions
i mean bikers
work, work, work, write, write,
love, and marriage - finally,
a haiku moment
gathering of stones
in the sunny field, don't want
to interrupt
background of silence
for words spoken from her heart
graceful wilderness
for a full minute
a crow approaches silently
then the sound of wings
disregarding my mood
a pack of songbirds flies in
chirp chirp chirp chirp chirp
orchids
her first love
now in another's home
tree dimensional
jigsaw puzzle
of bark and life
deliberately
walking the same way
to see something new
before we disperse
into our lives
we meet for haiku
susan's voice trailing
up and down and around curves
behind me on the path
haiku nothingness
and elephant dung
small shit on big shit
note: elephant dung refers to the 'elephant dung paper' haiku books that jonathan brought back from Thailand.
how many haikus
would haiku writers write if
haiku writers could write haiku?
asymmetrical
dried grasses emerge
from november snow
zig zag fence
a matter of practicality
or a farmer's art?
walking mandala
on betasso hillside
sunday prayer
chickadees revel
in the discovery of
yet another pine nut
picnic table perch
inspires wanderings to
eastern horizons
shadows preserve
winter in a pact
of chilly similitude
broad smiles
we all share
useless haiku
better useless
in this world
of odd usefulness
rather than
touching my grief
reciting my story
the hollowness of
the tree transmitted
through a bird's beak
bikers hiss
past our path
jazz ears follow
mountain beauty
still remains
when body long gone
buddies leashed
we walk together
old age grace
straining to see
the birds singing in the trees
then not
stripped down to spirit
by the cold, the trees
ever more still
tug of war
dog and i
left. no right.
why not?
haiku words
full of nothingness
juniper-scented hand
pressed to my warm face
saying hello to myself
winter sun
we talk simply
death and dung
sky and mountains
pure blue, pure white - far from
our complicated lives
on this very day
i have everything i need
wholly awareness
spreading happiness
across my back
winter sun warmth
bent legged buck
jumping across the
straw colored mattress
happily walking
through pockets of sun and pine scent
wafting from the trees
drippin pee
on dried grass
yellow on yellow
kickin air
jazz does his best
dog angels in snow
doggie mind
is it as pure as
doggie breath?
dung book
full of nothingness
page after page
jazz waits patiently
turning circles on his leash
while sanjay writes
snow crackled footsteps
leave a transient mark
on winter
sun beats blue
on the whitened slopes
of winter
brilliant pine needles
stunningly still in sweet
surrender to the sun
some wear clean
underwear every day, rarely
doing the shim sham shimmy
on a sunny bench
sending my prayers to Teslin
on the other side
for days afterwards
skirting the depressions
where the snow remains
jolted out of
daydreams by two mountain lions
i mean bikers
work, work, work, write, write,
love, and marriage - finally,
a haiku moment
gathering of stones
in the sunny field, don't want
to interrupt
background of silence
for words spoken from her heart
graceful wilderness
for a full minute
a crow approaches silently
then the sound of wings
disregarding my mood
a pack of songbirds flies in
chirp chirp chirp chirp chirp
orchids
her first love
now in another's home
tree dimensional
jigsaw puzzle
of bark and life
deliberately
walking the same way
to see something new
before we disperse
into our lives
we meet for haiku
susan's voice trailing
up and down and around curves
behind me on the path
haiku nothingness
and elephant dung
small shit on big shit
note: elephant dung refers to the 'elephant dung paper' haiku books that jonathan brought back from Thailand.
how many haikus
would haiku writers write if
haiku writers could write haiku?
asymmetrical
dried grasses emerge
from november snow
zig zag fence
a matter of practicality
or a farmer's art?
walking mandala
on betasso hillside
sunday prayer
chickadees revel
in the discovery of
yet another pine nut
picnic table perch
inspires wanderings to
eastern horizons
shadows preserve
winter in a pact
of chilly similitude
broad smiles
we all share
useless haiku
better useless
in this world
of odd usefulness
rather than
touching my grief
reciting my story
the hollowness of
the tree transmitted
through a bird's beak
bikers hiss
past our path
jazz ears follow
mountain beauty
still remains
when body long gone
buddies leashed
we walk together
old age grace
straining to see
the birds singing in the trees
then not
stripped down to spirit
by the cold, the trees
ever more still
tug of war
dog and i
left. no right.
why not?
haiku words
full of nothingness
juniper-scented hand
pressed to my warm face
saying hello to myself
winter sun
we talk simply
death and dung
sky and mountains
pure blue, pure white - far from
our complicated lives
on this very day
i have everything i need
wholly awareness
spreading happiness
across my back
winter sun warmth
bent legged buck
jumping across the
straw colored mattress
happily walking
through pockets of sun and pine scent
wafting from the trees
drippin pee
on dried grass
yellow on yellow
kickin air
jazz does his best
dog angels in snow
doggie mind
is it as pure as
doggie breath?
dung book
full of nothingness
page after page
jazz waits patiently
turning circles on his leash
while sanjay writes
snow crackled footsteps
leave a transient mark
on winter
sun beats blue
on the whitened slopes
of winter
brilliant pine needles
stunningly still in sweet
surrender to the sun
some wear clean
underwear every day, rarely
doing the shim sham shimmy
solo/group kukai
drawing/writing/photography
jonathan machen
drawing/writing/photography
jonathan machen