For me, a Haiku is a 17 syllable verse that captures an image or moment that touches the heart when the reader grasps its meaning.
Some are still a work in progress.
The Haiku is a seventeen syllable-verse, understoond by the heart. Depicts a moment in nature filled with simple wonderment and awe. Perspicacity Reach into the world of words, to find clear insight.
Slipping through morning dew, first blush hues cast,- dawn's chorus begins. Antiphonal tweets robins, warblers, blackbirds sing dayspring's symphony. The woodland world wakes.
January sky Its sheer so clear, so blue. Nothing leaves a mark. On gradient winds, matching a clarion call Eagles hitch a ride.
Spring buds pop their heads, February trickery- Winter snaps, not yet!
Loam stirs, breaking free Roots stretch in fertile earth March howls for spring's warmth.
Sky looks down on earth Eyes as dark as a new moon, Winks in the spring night. Loam stirs, breaking free Roots stretch in fertile earth March howls for spring's warmth.
Ode to Daffodils Bordering Mamaw’s cotton field Beside Momma’s fence To my backyard Daffodils. Posted on February 25, 2022 by Sankara Jayanth Posted in #HaikuSeed Daily Haiku Prompt
Longing for a sidewalk stroll along the storefronts of a – five-and-dime boutique coffee house with friends . . .mask less.
Winter folds a tree- into a counterfeit death – Gray, boney, lifeless.
Cold, still, frosty white Frozen precipitation The glistening sun Icicle droplets Drip amid a frozen field Robins drink mid-stream.
Kindness ripples when interjected precisely and rips through meanness. kindness ripples and rips through meanness.
Summer soybean fields Winter conifer forests Fall, hide from hunters Spring birthing, a fawn
Winter grants Fall's wish for an encore flower dance, frost procrastinates. Indian Summer Harvest-in, farmer's delight- Sweet whispers of thanks.
Romantic at heart Curious, Cautious, Clever Nature's lake builders Habitat framers Charming artisan As busy as a- beaver (WIP)
Rudbeckia titters Roots stretching in fertile earth. Butterfly frolics More butterlies play-
Hidden Object The only reason I've never been snake-bitten; I pound when I walk. The object I seek is blatantly obvious. but it's not a snake.
A trim crimson comb Proud strut, surefooted, perched high. First to greet the day. Calls the world to wake. Rises with the morning sun. Cock-a-doddle-do
Prayer is your weapon. Like the soil loves the tree and gives life to the tree so does prayer nourish your soul. Prayer cradles life whether answered here or there (heaven).