Haikus

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thedailydoodles:“The Orbit of Life”, a HaikuTaking more, or less.So the wrinkles are smoothed outAnd

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thedailydoodles:“As the Sun Rises”, a HaikuAs the sun rises,You get yet another chanceTo screw up ag

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thedailydoodles:“Sleep Your Life Away”, a HaikuSleep the entire daySleep through tomorrow, as wellJu

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thedailydoodles:“As the Sun Rises”, a HaikuAs the sun rises,You get yet another chanceTo screw up ag

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thedailydoodles:“The Ghosts of Your Mind”, a HaikuThe Ghosts of Your Mind, Haunting your subconsciou

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thedailydoodles:“Fathers and Daughters”, a HaikuWatching her grow upThe days can feel so slow, butTh

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Pray; words like mist, goneScream them; do not be ignoredBe a hurricane

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Crow in an ash treecalls three times from a bare branch—autumn storm has passed.

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On a bare hay field,Two crows hunt for grasshoppers— Autumn afternoon.

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The farmer thinks these fields/are his, but the crow in March/shouts “No-no, no-no!”

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no longer afraidof the woman staring back,she’s won half the war.

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one more bridge to cross.tides of a smile overdue.heart in the right place.

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it hurts to be her,waking up to the thick thornsgrowing from her heart.

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table set for two,tonight she’ll drink to forgettheir one last goodbye.

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she tucks herself in.homesick eyes hide behind truth,lovers who can’t stay.

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read her in the dark.she’s the poem that rivers writewaiting for the sun.

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she believed her smile.like a plume heart that beats soft,she’s since found her bass.

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healing in deep blues,the upsurge of a brave heart.today she rose too.

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don’t tell her her place.don’t offer to walk her home.she holds her own hand.

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the ground taught her firsts,scrapes and love and mounds of dirt,she prefers short walks.

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through glossed lips she screams.she finds refuge in herself,silence offers none.

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classic lies they tell.she is more than a feelingyou’ve hollowed with lust.

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if seen she wondered,“will they even know i fought?wars beneath my skin.”

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she solemnly sworenot to cater to the darkdimming her own light.

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her eyes speak blossomsmadly picked by the wrong hands.she still feels the blades.

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made from the worst breaks,her touch maps a hopeful heart.some pieces still fit.

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