Long Haibun Poems
Long Haibun Poems. Below are the most popular long Haibun by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Haibun poems by poem length and keyword.
Dear Papa,
Thank you for appreciating my talent since forever. You told me once that I could do anything I wanted to do. You always took pride in seeing my drawings and paintings. I should have done more. What a lot of time we wasted as kids.
I’ve thought a couple of times that if I had had six kids – I would have put them to work: draw this, draw that, paint rocks, write a letter to Grandma, and so on.
I also wanted to tell you too how much I appreciated the period not so long ago when you were sick and we exchanged readings on death and dying – much to Mom’s dismay. That was a special time for me when I felt a special bond with you.
As you know, I have your photo on my table. When I asked you to help me with healing my inner child, I was so thrilled to wholeheartedly feel your presence. I heard you saying that I’d be taken care of – that you would look after me from up above. Thank you.
I love you and miss you. Your girl, your baby.
you were always there
i feel you near
now more than ever
AP: Honorable Mention 2021, Honorable Mention 2022
The rain is soaking the land bringing much needed substance to the young flowers, trees and plants. The following day all is rife with colour as the once dropping plants come back to life.
rain falling softly
bringing life to thirsty land
with blazing colour
The drought at last ended, everywhere is full of promise as the cycle restarts. Arid lands now blossoming and blades of new grass feed the hungry cattle. Life once more is good.
sun shows happy face
she warms soil bringing forth life
bees buzz happily
Now comes a time of plenty as crops ripen in the fields, the groaning apple bow under their burden. The farmer's wife sets forth to gather them for apple pies and crumbles which will fill happy belly's.
life is affirmed
crops are gathered for harvest
will last the winter
written 08/06/2015
I
The friend in the deli
of the Piggly Wiggly
in Lodi show me her nails
strikes up conversations
when I come back to town
for a second week of work.
I tell her about the work
on utility lines on county roads
where I control traffic
and the beauty of the countryside.
She tells me about her daughter
two years old who brings joy
and says she’s finding her life
as we share stories every day.
time shared day after day
the delectable taste
of our conversations
II
The motel clerk near Portage
checks me in for the week.
Her black T-shirt says Hot Stuff
and I tease her
and we learn to confide
in each other.
We talk about our losses
and she says her boyfriend
has died from an overdose
and I lend her my understanding.
One night I sit in the lobby
and watch my favorite TV show.
She sits on a chair near me
as if a date as I sink into
the cushions of the couch.
We talk about our futures
as I check out at the end of the week
I say the next I’ll be on another assignment
but we vow to stay in touch.
moments shared
during my stay
my home for the week
.
Shark waits in the bushes, for his opportunity. I am watching the scene in horror, because I feed these birds. There are many robins, sparrows, wrens, cardinals and my bluejay. They all trust me. I try to get out there in time to scare the cat away from his prime spot, but alas, I am too late. He has captured an unsuspecting baby bird. Trots off with his prey into the forest while the other birds continue to feed, unaware they are now in Shark’s own secret happy hunting ground.
cat takes flying leap
little brown robin escapes
feline grab in air
SEASONAL haibun
When Spring comes again not the warmth..nor the rain
not the yellow ..nor the green not the grass or verdant scene;
not the winds or blossom bright not the showers or more daylight;
but hearing creation's new birth shouted aloud in sky and earth.
When Summer her beauty displays not short nights nor lengthy days
not vacations or tourist sights not the festivals nor village fetes
not the wildlife nor abour foliates but the garden all nature in flower,eye-catchingly dressed.When Autumn readies for harvest not her full silos nor baskets imprest not mellow vistas seen nor dressed trees, yellow-red not Indian Summer's embrace nor late coloured flower beds not Fall's living collage or wine newly pressed not for walks in the woods or nature's largesse but in thanksgiving ,daily blessed for all the Lord's bountifulness.
creations new birth
each season to us reveals
God’s love in action
you may hear me recite this haibun (and most of my PS anthology)on youtube under my pen name ichthyschiro.
Catch my short forms @strandpoet on twitter
Dance of Graves
The dance of graves occurs more than we are prompted to imagine. We prefer to keep matters of death fit into that realm of Afterlife, where the divine mysteries are kept far beyond our daily lives, which are too full with concerns about budgets, health, and childcare.
we tend the grown vines
ripe with this day’s poems
holy calls to harvest
From the wedding vows to love devoutly unto death, our greater spirits adopt God’s greatest gift — Love, which our hearts compassionately open to each other. The passing years deepen the enfolding love, but being far outside perfection, we will inevitably hurt, will in turns lash out, scarring the shell of our spouse’s heart or thoughts.
deep in the cold earth
gold runs in cloaked gleaming veins
sought by yearning hearts
The graveyard has spaced its sloping, green mounds to embrace
our beloved dead, who humbly uttered their vows with hopes of forever feeling the touch, the closeness, and the eternal presence of that endeared mate. But, as lives survive and pass on, marriages, too, will last and end. Th one who remains may, perhaps, go on in a new marriage…So very well does Heaven hold the last cries of those beloveed who’ve passed on.
three mounds side by side
dance their love story
the grasps of loving passed on
Mom woke up early to bake the pie. The special occasion pie. Her daughter’s favorite. She rolled out the chilled dough with the old rolling pin and crimped the edges just so. She danced with anticipation as the custard bubbled to its chocolatey glory. When all was done, there were eggshells everywhere. She tidied the kitchen humming their favorite tune.
At last the doorbell rings and there is the delightful smile of her beautiful girl! Though a bit awkward they hug and chat pleasantly. But before Mom can present her scrumptious offering, something from the bitter forbidden list almost slips from Mother's lips. Almost, but her daughter’s keen ear hears it. Almost is enough. Enough to trigger her daughter’s rehearsed response--leaving Mom stunned and alone with her disappointed expectations.
behind the slammed door
the said, unsaid, and dust swirl
untouched meringue weeps
3/8/2021
I tried to comprehend and grasp the depth of her words to imagine the foreign reality of her world. All I heard was a clip of her conversation at an airport. She had come from afar to visit someone and help in their spiritual journey while they dealt with some aggressive illness. She said something about how the desert was magical. I don’t remember exactly what she said but I remember how she said it. With the faith of a dreamer and the soul of a shaman.
dreams set free hover
under a full desert moon
~driftwood on a beach
Read on air by invitation ~ March 27, 2021 'LATE NIGHT POETS'
AP: 2nd place 2020, Honorable Mention 2026, Honorable Mention 2021
Submitted on January 25, 2020 for contest STRAND CHOICE 6 sponsored by BRIAN STRAND - HONORABLE MENTION
a haibun ABSTRACTION
The soft yellow streaked the terra cotta,shadowing the speckled sallow saffron
a bluish buff upon the cochineal;brilliant boneblack grizzled the engrain
citrine carnation as the fallow flaxen,rustic rubrical rainbow-tinted
the magenta mandarine;unseen the ultra-marine, tinged burnt sienna,
reflecting a golden flame of raw umbery upon the earth green;bright mosaic gold
mottled the sallow sorrel virent yellow,oak stained the pale apricot;while
blood red,reddish russetdotted the olive lind;freckled crimson,a chestnut maroon,
on fuchsias faded apple green as burnt rumber sank deep into its sanguine slumber.
I walk through the glade
abstractions enlighten me-
colour my rainbow
you hear me recite this haibun and much of my PS poetry on youtube unfer my pen name ichthyschiro
catch my short form @strandpoet on twitter
Oh man! Just go out and see, nature has created a picturesque scenery. Tree are birthing leaves, fruits and flowers. It is green and colourful. Light breeze is blowing, birds are mating, sun is warm and welcoming. Flowers are dancing to the tune of wind, birds are singing melodic music to woo their mates. Watch exquisitely crafted butterflies fluttering by, observe how they drink nectar from flowers. Bumblebee is busy collecting honey. In trees, squirrels can be seen scampering. Look for nests, small fragile young ones, featherless beauties, mother feeds them with her beak. Watch the changing colours of sun, shimmering noon, unobscured by clouds. Shut down your electronic devices, go out and enjoy. Collect as many wonderful memories as possible. Life is short, tomorrow uncertain!
dove with worm in beak
sun and moon deck the sky~
jasmine scent fills air
19th March, 2021
Inspired by SpringTime Haibun contest by M.L. Kaiser
Syllable count checked at PS syllables counter
13th position of 22 placement of 35 entries