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Best Poems Written by Kiana Dobre

Below are the all-time best Kiana Dobre poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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Haiku-Tanka-Senryu


Silent pond water,
A frog springs off a lily,
The ripples recede. 

The passing of time,
A drifting piece of plastic,
They gather many.
The dirty ditch of water,
Ignored by people passing.

Once there was a pond,
Now a floating trash can,
The frog is gone.

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Haiku

The flowing river,
Catches falling petals,
With a timeless care.

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The Cycle of Water


Floating from the ground below,
Vapored water wispy, slow.

Up it trickles, lightly drawn, 
To form a cloud above the lawn.

There it sits, awaiting more,
Till it’s full and ready to pour.

It’s color gray, it starts to quiver,
Until out the water trickles.

Harder, harder, more and more,
Until you have a great downpour!

Slowly, slowly, ending rain,
The cloud is peaceful yet again.

Its water gone, it starts to shrink,
Till there’s nothing left to shrink.

Out the sun comes, drying up,
All the water on the ground,
And the process starts again,
Up, cloud, rain, again.

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Endless Wheat

Endless hills sprawl on and on, 
Stretching horizon to horizon,

Here comes the dawn,
The hills sprawl on, 

And bend in breezes to the sun.

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The Idler Tongue-twister

Do not idle by the sign,
Waiting idly for a sign,
That the sign be waiting idly,
For an idler idling mildly,
By the sign,
Waiting idly for a sign,
Of the sign be waiting idly,
For an idler idling snidely,
For a meter maid to sign him,
As an idler idling idly.

Details | Kiana Dobre Poem

Icicles



Drip drip go the icicles,
Hanging from the frozen gutter,
Plinking off the bicycles,
Falling with a splutter.

Blip blip go the icicles,
Dripping from their glassy towers,
Twinkling in their endless cycles,
Melting in icy showers.

Crik crik go the icicles,
Freezing in the darkened hours, 
Growing beards in icy cycles,
Til come the springtime flowers.

Warmer breezes melting snow,
‘Way goes winter’s chilly freeze,
Dripping go the icicles,
Up white snowdrop petals squeeze.

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The Stream

the gurgling of the stream - pause and listen to its waters

                                             a river flowing
                                   smoothing over every stone 
                                        with a timeless care 

                                    The stream quietly burbles,
                                   Os and Ls and other verbals.
                                    Swishing along on its way,
                                  Carrying fish in its vocal play. 

5/29/23

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Winter Haiku

An icy morning,
Bare branches encased in frost,
And tiny sparrows.

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When will the summer come?

When will the summer come, the fields be ripe again,
The sun down-shining power, the clouds reducing rain.

When will the poplars be releasing, millions of seeds,
And outside be snowing fuzz-balls, carried on the breeze.

When will the maple tree, release its helicopters, 
And send them down in twirling spirals, alighting on the flowers.

When will it stop this raining, this downpour from above,
The sky be blue, serene, and birds be singing love.

Why won’t it stop, why won’t it clear, why is it always so gray,
I wish that only the summer be here, to clear this dreadful day.

Details | Kiana Dobre Poem

Mist

A gentle fog has settled down,
To pause, and wait, and sit around.

The softest gray is still and silent,
Only sound is muffled, quiet.

But whispering wind starts to billow and blow,
Whisking away the slowly swirling mist,
And clouds now part for the whistling flow,
The fog has vanished, swishing, hiss.