Crows
Beckon me
Every single morning.
Copyright © 2026 by Crystal David John
"The Hay(na)ku is a 21st century poetic form designed by Eileen R. Tabios, a Filipino-American poet, fiction writer, artist. The form, which Tabios first called Filipino Haiku, is described by Eileen in an interesting history of hay(na)ku. Inspired by Tabios’ Counting Journal, lately I’ve been writing a hay(na)ku each day in my planner after the day, a quick, tiny and fun way to recap a memorable event or emotion." - - Denise Krebs
Traditionally, Hay(na)ku have:
3 lines
A total of 6 words – 1 in the first, 2 in the second, and 3 in the third
No syllable, rhythm, or meter constraints.
You can also write reverse hay(na)kus.
Is love a fleeing tyrant
Dancing in a dream
Trapped amid the fact of feelings
Joy the fading bubbles
Of a carbonated collapse
Struggling to recap itself
Or has time embraced us
In its subtle blanket
Tucked sweetly together
Held captive in moments
Of love’s memory
Still dancing in a dream
At my yearly review, she hands me a recap of my performance.
After a year of working weekends
overtime on short notice-
going the x-tra yard
taking on x-tra projects
dodging H.R (for the most part).
I would be getting .73 cents an hour raise.
My face must've turned gargoyle
because the newbie supervisor
lowered her eyes and apologized.
Nervously adding that she had no hand in determining raises.
Her pimply head nodding toward the ceiling....
Implying the flaccid raise was concocted by the ones upstairs...
Where underworked blonde birds and plump business casual lived.
23 years of work .73 cents an hour raise...
The vending machine on the first floor has candy bars for a buck twenty-five.
I think I'll go celebrate
yeeha.
Each year Memorial Day causes much lament,
and today will be viewed as another life recap.
A day we honor heroes whose lives were spent,
who, for freedom, willingly stood in the gap.
Too many families are attached to someone,
who served country and didn’t return intact.
Body bags, their ticket home to a loved one,
today, they remember that door knock’s impact.
The after
What happens after?
When what was loud is now silent
Where a place once filled with cameras go unnoticed
What once made history is now forgotten
Later
On TV they'll be a recap
The story will go
They'll manipulate the situation
Bonus if its told by a republican
They'll say
The police were peaceful, we'll be labelled as criminals
I guess it's opposite day
As in fact it was the other way
Those who will clean up
Will cry whilst they simultaneously wipe their eyes and wipe peoples blood up
Yes it was violent
No it wasn't us
But you'll never know
As the real story will be locked up
Just because your past didn't treat you well doesn't mean you need to forget it -use it for a recap of things not to do again
fulfills an hourglass
and more can fill a whole beach~
and not made of sand
[This was my first effort for Mystic Rose
rose’s recent ‘Merlin The Magic Cat’
contest. I wasn’t overly keen and it didn’t
have ‘Meow’ in it. I thought I’d deleted it,
but as I found it lurking in my files I thought
I’d share it…]
Merlin was a magic cat
He grew up in a council flat
On a mat is where he sat
In a very pointy hat
Merlin was a fatty cat
But as he had a spell for that
He waved his wand and said “Howzat”
And then was thinner than a gnat
And so to recap…
The cat in a hat on a mat in a flat
Was fat, said, “howzat,” and was thin as a gnat.
I tried to thank Lisa Ricci for her friendship ... Cybermonsters ate all I wrote.
So, to recap:
Lisa Ricci Ricci Ricci
Namasthe Namasthe Namasthe
ShalOm shalom shalom
I'm rich with l. Ricci as penpal
From Rhode island to south Africa
Despite the miles, years fewer smiles
NOTE: this PS site now gavectwo copies if the above post. I deleted one,OL! COMPENSATION?
Keep waiting [lullaby essay]
Prior to my expected appalling arrival
Accept a delay necessitating my survival
Recap all hopeful wishes
Evoke undying patience species
Nest and destroy negative feelings
Trust when the seed says is fleeing.
Knives come thirsty for my blood
Eyes in tears always keep a flood
Episodes full of grief and sorrow
Pray that I see you tomorrow.
While I try to realize my goal
All is destined to benefit you
Immense forces are attack-full
Tremendous effort from me is forceful
Incarnate figures seem to set militia
Nourishing their foul aromatic herb
Gather guts and expect patiently
Drastic changes in economic atmosphere
Applaud a flop on my old plans
Insolent conditions thwart my combined efforts
Lonesome insolvency escort me to their agenda
Yielding failure for me every day!
Hugo was in a great haste
To use his new whitening toothpaste
He gave the tube a hard squirt
And out it did spurt
And the cap was never replaced
Who are the British, do they exist,
these nationals of her Britannic majesty
too often shortened to ‘ Brit’.
Four score years, and more
I’ ve walked this shore but ‘Brit’
I see not, from where I, sit.
A kingdom united, yes that
rings a bell, but, am I
a ‘Brit’; No, No, so let me tell
of Four Kingdoms, as one, England
Scotland, Ireland and Wales. This
quartet, the crux of my tale.
Many things each maybe, ..but never
a ‘Brit’. We are Scot, Irish, Welsh
or English..now do you see ?
Each nation, unique and distinct,
language reinforces my point, as in
English, not British, this poem I ink
I throw it out then bring it back
A somewhat hoarder, I have that knack
I keep in mind the things I love
Then store them back within my hub
A sound of music a touch of scent
Allows nostalgia a place to vent
A memory made or thought perhaps lost
A junkyard backpack on my forward path
When on the surface I dig down deep
To find a memory within my fleet
The ones I pull have high impact
They keep my emotions right on track
Such days are downs until they’re ups
My conscience divulges outward puffs
From childhood reflections to adult recap
I reminisce from my junkyard backpack
Date: October 23, 2019
Sponsored by: Craig Cornish
There's a fire tonight.
Struck gently,
It burns; alight.
I turn the wood
Slowly out of its box.
My feelings consume,
As do the lies.
My mind cracks,
As do the cries.
My legs turns to liquid,
As do my eyes.
He'll pay
For making me do trash today.
Make me your love song,
A ballad of sweet, enduring and long,
Memories to unwind,
Through the dusk wind.
I will cheer you up,
With words of passion to recap,
your old lovely past,
the one you would wish to last.
The melody to take you to cloud nine,
Where golds of love is mine,
And the sweetest nectar from his kiss,
to overwhelm your heart with bliss.
I wanna be celebrated lines,
whose lyrics in the twilight shines,
Sailing with you to the haven,
Far away from jealously of men.
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Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.