In twilight’s dank and odious arbour,
I look for solace among dead vines.
Their choking hands admit and harbour
Many lies from within their strands.
Too deathly pale the honey suckle rose,
Its pallid echoes breathe and gasp.
Its frown then holds me, and does suppose,
That I too, am often left to the cold.
I bite on rotten forbidden fruits,
Long forgotten and refused by time.
Frightening, but appetising are these shoots
They let me retch whilst savouring.
A warm springtime breeze
Last looks from waving tulips
On close inspection
Golden poppies bear torn wings
Butterflies in spring
Haiku Horizons prompt: Spring. Other entries.
Often in springtime
Scents of favourite flowers
Push back to winter
When bells stop ringing
flowers serenade us with
Picture source: Paul Militaru. Thanks, Paul.
draped in night’s soft silver –
petals cling like shades of past
as if scared of life’s bright light
A Naani consists of 4 lines, the total lines consists of 20 to 25 syllables
Picture: Fingerprint Garden. Flowers are made from children’s fingerprints. (Pinterest)
How I long to see
the artistry of springtime
in wild abandon
smell so sweet
in tolerant nature
when within its walls
lie death and victims’ cries?
To scent this growth would be criminal, yet
we do, and we douse it with water – the flame
that gives it fragrance –
and when it blossoms wide enough to flourish,
we are as doomed as a black thumb should be.
Shy little flower
Anemone’s chalk white face
Like pretty Geisha
Day 189/365 – Morgan’s #DailyHaikuChallenge. Join in and link back to her blog.
Lightning strikes at dusk
Flower stalks are prison bars
Storm is the culprit
Day 170/365 – Morgan’s #DailyHaikuChallenge. Join in and link back to her blog