Feb. 22: vent
cool morning air
through the open door
magpies calling
February 23: Today's writing prompt is to write mischievously about a cross-eyed paleontologist studying a one-legged rhinoceros beetle nibbling an Egyptian mummy’s shoulder blade during the summer solstice on Mars, and be sure to refer to a mega-hard Sudoku puzzle, torn Monopoly money, and a vampire, plus a Mongolian-speaking Nobel prize-winner who dances polkas whenever he hears “Moves Like Jagger” on bagpipes or the Macarena song performed on an out-of-tune Northumbrian squeezebox underwater. And be sure to type in your poem with your nose while singing a Broadway show tune, since you should now have plenty of practice at doing exactly that. Anything less and I shall be supremely disappointed. Just kidding. Again. Instead, write about . . . a wig.
on Mars
summer solstice
red-hot
cross, I
watch rhino beetles
unwrap Mummy
crosswords please
not Sudoko numbers
too cryptic
blood money
vampires tear into
Monopoly
Obama now
moves like Jagger
dancing underwater
peace prize winner
out of tune with the people
faces new battles
the squeeze is felt
in Outer Mongolia
Pandora’s box
bagpipes
or Macarena ...
let’s just polka
nobody knows
the trouble I’ve seen
typing practice
haiku prompts
after 23 days
I flip my wig
Feb. 24: [the letter] x
exhausted
we cuddle in sleep
the cats purr
Feb. 25: yellow (must use the word)
yellow rose
golden in my poem
I was eight
Feb. 26: zip
humid evening
at the end of summer
I’ve lost my zip
Feb. 27: bad haiku
His Eyes
his diamond-bright eyes
are giving me gorgeous goose-
bumps when I see them
Love
love is the greatest
power in the universe
it will cure all ills
An Encounter
her dress was yellow
the autumn day was mellow
his eyes smiled hello
Feb. 28: make a ‘generated’ haiku ( from http://www.everypoet.com/haiku/default.htm ) more literary
original:
dreaming plum giggling
tugging bronze unbroken bride
palpitates softly
mine:
plum blossoms
cover her in white ...
soft laughter
**********
asleep
by the bronze statue
her soft breathing
Feb. 29: leap
stray duck in traffic
I pray
for a flying leap
Wednesday, February 29, 2012
NaHaiWriMo 2012 Week Three
Feb. 15: opera
never heard
that performance we missed
I don’t forgive
Feb 16: pool
new acquaintance
neighbour with swimming-pool
instant best friend
Feb. 17: queue
crossing our legs
too few cubicles
penis envy
Feb.18: rattle
in my Melbourne
the old red rattlers
went the distance
Feb. 19: sandal
a lone sandal shuffles in the tide
Feb. 20: talus
the hill
in the big rain
falls downhill
Feb. 21: umbrella
useless
my umbrella
in the wind
never heard
that performance we missed
I don’t forgive
Feb 16: pool
new acquaintance
neighbour with swimming-pool
instant best friend
Feb. 17: queue
crossing our legs
too few cubicles
penis envy
Feb.18: rattle
in my Melbourne
the old red rattlers
went the distance
Feb. 19: sandal
a lone sandal shuffles in the tide
Feb. 20: talus
the hill
in the big rain
falls downhill
Feb. 21: umbrella
useless
my umbrella
in the wind
Tuesday, February 14, 2012
NaHaiWriMo 2012 Week Two
Feb. 8: hat
my sun-hat
hangs on the doorknob
summer rain
Feb. 9: ice
except in drinks
I don’t see ice any more
I’m glad to say
Feb. 10: jam
jam tomorrow
adds extra flavour
to pie in the sky
Feb. 11: kitchen
noisy cats
prowling the kitchen
plead starvation
Feb. 12: laundry
rain again
chairs and door handles
dripping cloth
Feb. 13: mountain(s)
on my wall Roland
painted by my late father
my old favourite
I walk out my gate
turn and greet our guardian
friendly Warning
Feb. 14: nachos
ah! Tex-Mex
the flavour of Austin
remembered
Monday, February 6, 2012
NaHaiWriMo 2012 Week One
February is National Haiku Writing Month — except it's international — hosted on facebook, with prompts, by Michael Dylan Welch.
Feb. 1: apple
one bite
out of the apple
squirts juice
Feb. 2: boat
moored
three masts
moonlit
Feb 3: catfish
I cannot catch
the unseen catfish
in verse
Feb. 4: any kind of dog.
small timberwolf
self-possessed as a cat
I still miss you
Feb. 5: egg
eating the unborn
I prefer brown skins
in eggs as in men
Feb. 6: frame
only at the joints
of this expansive structure
we see the fine bones
Feb 7: grief
reports of her death
greatly exaggerated
grief instantly cured
(details of 7)
Feb. 1: apple
one bite
out of the apple
squirts juice
Feb. 2: boat
moored
three masts
moonlit
Feb 3: catfish
I cannot catch
the unseen catfish
in verse
Feb. 4: any kind of dog.
small timberwolf
self-possessed as a cat
I still miss you
Feb. 5: egg
eating the unborn
I prefer brown skins
in eggs as in men
Feb. 6: frame
only at the joints
of this expansive structure
we see the fine bones
Feb 7: grief
reports of her death
greatly exaggerated
grief instantly cured
(details of 7)
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