Story Haibun Poems | Examples
These Story Haibun poems are examples of Haibun poems about Story. These are the best examples of Haibun Story poems written by international poets.
‘An urban legend says:
These old woods were preyed on.’
Let me tell you a story of where I grew up.
A tale of the grounds behind my childhood home.
There are screams, there is blood splatter,
there is time lost, and time found. A cabin’s
framework remains to remind us of what could
happen again. Lest we forget the murders that
tainted a town in it’s heyday. The worst crime ever
committed here or so they say, with no motive.
As the years passed the truth was lost to the game
of telephone. All we have is here-say.
But the wind will always simply carry…
‘Continue to walk.’
the trees whisper in your ear;
Let the sunset rest.
On July 2, 2022, Connie posted her poem “The Blessings of Prayer” dedicated to her "loving poetry friends" who were so encouraging to her during her hospital stay when her heart had almost given out. To date, her poem has received 3 pages of comments! Her replies to those comments are incredibly precious, as they reveal her beautiful qualities. Her life story bespeaks loving-kindness. Our fond memories remain to remind us.
strength of character
ready supporter, true friend ...
always a lady
As a kid, I loved to find any unusual shells and rocks; I do to this day. I used to walk the piney woods of Georgia, with my favorite uncle. He made up the neatest stories to tell me about each stone or arrowhead that I found; visiting him was always loads of fun. Like him, I’m a story teller, entertaining others. I loved those woods and the great finds there; so many great woodland memories.
piney woods
shed upon sacred ground-
bedding
nature’s trinkets
abound in the woodlands-
arrowheads
4-20-2021
ALL YOURS (Apr 20) Poetry Contest
Brian Strand
The rug’s brimming with ABC’s, numbers, shapes and bottoms. The kids, keen to hear the pages flip with blankets and bunnies, rivaling sisters and laughter.
tenacious inch worms —
preschoolers scoot off the rug
embracing the story
3/19/2019
I loved the old films, as a kid; their monotone pictures of theaters golden age, presented shadows that allowed a viewers imagination to soar to great heights in unknown realms. Movies today don’t allow room for imagination to expand; it’s all there in color; the worst part of films today…they leave the viewer unchallenged and often bored. One’s imagination is halted, leaving the viewer unable to anticipate the plot of a sequel; there’s no inspiration for a viewer to create their own story either. I want the golden era back.
Life gifts all creatures
With an imagination;
It gives zest to life.
Arthritic oak tree, each branch’s twisted finger, takes my mind to another reality; I have visited far away realms, through your stories. You have lived century’s worth of life and time’s left its fingerprints on your ancient face. Still, wrapped in its steely grip, you shield us from the elements. Despite the gnarled limbs, you stand tall and proud against all odds; telling a new story, every day.
The road map of time,
Built by the elements is,
Written in the trees.