Haiku #31

Not a great picture. My tree at sunset. They cut the big limb that extended over the neighbor's yard yesterday. 

Another not great picture. This is a chunk of the branch they cut off yesterday.
I'm sure there's a poem in the center, hoping someone will write it.

Phew! We did it! Thirty-one days of haiku! Hard work, but I have totally enjoyed writing with the little poetry community that we have created. Thanks to Leigh Anne Eck, Mary Lee Hahn, Kevin Hodgson, Steve Peterson, and Carol Varsalona! I have learned a lot from you!

"on writing haiku"
let's just write haiku
she said. i blithely agreed
i should have known
those seventeen syllables emerge
like blood from a rock
(C) Carol Wilcox, 2015


"lets just write haiku she said"
I blithely agreed
not knowing syllables
do not like to be dragged
from their underground caves
and carved into white pages.
(C) Carol Wilcox, 2015


"on writing haiku"
syllables revel in dark caves
they do not wish to be dragged out
pared, sliced, carved onto page.
(C) Carol Wilcox, 2015


"let's just write haiku,"
she said. i blithely agreed
totally unaware that syllables hide
in dark underground word caves
and vehemently resist
being dragged onto white page.
(C) Carol Wilcox, 2015


"On Writing Haiku"
desired syllables hide
in dark, underground word caves
vehemently resisting white page.
(C) Carol Wilcox, 2015


"When I agreed to write haiku"
I was unaware:
syllables lurk in dark caves
resisting white page.
(C) Carol Wilcox, 2015