route (sequence with a lesson on how to breathe life to a ‘lifeless haiku’)
on a bench—
granny arching
to a waltz
on the ground
black-eyed posies,
but not for me
over head
a robin trills, i race
the train
pine strand
flailing in night sky—
the first low star
pasta bowl
and cranberry juice
with no one
Published in LYNX XXIII:3, October 2008
These were separate haiku I labored to make ‘perfect’ but hardly ever tried to submit, having at that time received one rejection after another. And so, I put them together as a titled sequence and got an acceptance from Werner Reichold, my first publication after my one and only haiku award from VCBF haiku invitational.
But as I’m won’t to do, two of the haiku have since danced on into a full poem in free verse: #3 became “first kiss” posted here for One Shoot Sunday, #4 out of the image ‘flailing in the night sky’, I wrote “revenant” published in The Cortland Review.
Lesson: on how to save one’s own self from ‘grief’ of a ‘lifeless haiku’ or how to breathe life on a ‘lifeless haiku’
Do not delete/discard/bury it. Instead, keep it wrapped in angels’ wings.
Let it sleep the sleep of bulbs of daffodils and star lilies.
Wait for spring in your spirit.
And then, unwrap them, buff them and watch the wings stir, flapping weakly at first.
And then, with your touch, watch the lines soar!