ManicDDaily

Hot Room in Air-Conditioned House

It’s the thirteenth day of National Poetry Month and I got up at 3:45 a.m. for a flight down to Florida.  As a result, I’ve focused on short poems, haiku, for my drafts of the day.  (For those of you who have not been following this blog, I am honoring National Poetry Month by writing a draft poem a day.)

A classic haiku is seventeen syllables – five in the first line; seven in the second line, and five again in the third line.  Some people (who put content ahead of form) do not abide by these syllabic rules.  Given that a haiku is traditionally written in Japanese, this could probably be justified.   However, because I tend towards the formal more than the meaningful, I try to keep my haiku to the seventeen syllable format.  (Note– title doesn’t count, so it’s a good way to slip in a few more syllables.)

So here are a few haiku, written both in New York, pre-dawn trip to Florida, and after.  Please remember they are all drafts, and are intended to inspire you to your own efforts (which are bound to be as good.)

Killer Frost  (in Fortune Cookie Style)

Premature blossoms
bear no fruit.  Let buds knot wood
till truly their time.

Lack of Sleep As A Cure for Depression

I’m finding, of late,
the ebullience of no sleep.
Regret fades at two.

Florida

Porched concrete like the
forced march of Bermuda grass
fends off ant and file.

Symmetric

Two coconuts hang
like velour dice from a frond.
Is this all just luck?

Airless Room

The hot room in an
air-conditioned house:  vacuum-
sealed, energy-proof.

Nap

Middle of the day
sleep,  warm breath thick and soft as
flesh;  some manage it.

Pre-blossom Branch