
Black & White Haiga/Haisha
January 29, 2023
Black & White Haiga/Haisha
January 29, 2023
Contemporary Haibun Online
Issue 18.3 11/30/22
HaikuKATHA Issue 9
July 22, 2022
Our street is short and mostly treeless. The dry dust of summer kicks up and assails our noses. As soon as we turn the corner we are in the shade and our walk, though uphill, is cooler. Along the edges of the road random wildflowers bloom. We let the children pick whatever they want. One day we find a turtle in the middle of the road and relocate it away from danger. Another time we spot a garter snake but we leave it alone.
the sweetness
of bee balm on my fingers
mingles
with scented fern
on yours
haikuKATHA Issue 9
July 22, 2022
spring equinox
my granddaughter and I
start our seeds
brass bell: a haiku journal
March 2022
hands entwined
we stroll where butterflies once
danced along
a trail of goldenrod…
lengthening shadows
HaikuKATHA Issue 7
May 22,2022
think how your body moved down the avenue of fourteen
hips swaying into tomorrow and the next day
how you curl your tongue around the idea of chocolate
consumed by it even as your body consumes it
how your eyes connect with other eyes,
locking you into that inevitable, unforgettable dance
and feel how your body shudders and utters delight
when you share its secrets
how Beethoven ravaged, savaged your heart
invading, vibrating a joyous ode across tiny ear drums
how your skin felt like silk when you dove into the ocean,
and the salt-flecked water blessed, caressed and ate you
how your body worked to roll out another and another body,
sweating and pushing, pushing and sweating you bore them out
then swooned at the scent of brand new-born
pouring into every open door your body owns
how you are stunned when you rise from a daydream
and your eyes run across the sky, immense, intense with clouds
how you glow when a little boy stops playing
to touch your cheek lightly, politely planting a kiss
how a river of pleasure runs through your nose when a rose
shrugs off its holy fragrance
and oh,
feel how your heart pumped as you jumped on your bike
willing your eight year old legs to ride forever
how you soared, when you stopped on the road to Yosemite, awed
and had to lie on the hood of the car to keep from falling into the stars
and how your heart sings in time with the birds
when spring arrives to banish, vanish winter
your body convulses and pulses with laughter,
tears flowing, you fall down on the floor
when you think what an impossible joy-ride it has given you
ever since you climbed aboard at your naked, gasping birth.
Published :
Charlotte Digregorio’s Writers Blog March 21, 2021
Originally published :
July 2014 – Bards Annual 2014 – A Poetry Anthology
the first call
of an oriole
one may morning
a newborn sighs
into my arms
haikuKATHA Issue 8
June 22, 2022
Issue 5 March 22, 2022