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Alpine Bistort - Eagle's Nest Wilderness Area, Colorado


Haiku began as a Japanese performance art called renga, a form of linked poetry in which a master composed an initial verse of five, seven, and five syllables called a hokku, followed by short related verses composed extemporaneously by one or more other poets. Eventually the hokku stood alone and became known as a haiku.

The Japanese language, which has a just few simple sounds at the ends of the words, makes rhyming easy enough to do to allow for improvisation. In translation, Japanese haiku is usually rendered without rhymes, to try to preserve the subtleties of the brief poem instead of imposing a rigid rhyme scheme.

On those rare occasions when I've attempted to write haiku, I've also tried to capture the brief, vivid impression rather than constructing a rhyme scheme. In this website presentation, I've also tried to find one of my images in which I see some association to the haiku. If I have succeeded in creating something with meaning and feeling, it is more likely from chance than skill or education.



Cloudy Moon Through Trees

Like an old blind man

choosing some new dark glasses,

I feel for what's right.



Cottonwoods, Leafy Road

The fall forgotten,

I stride like an emperor

through the wind-blown leaves.



Cherry Blossoms - Renton, Washington

The crossing guard waves

his flimsy stop sign as the

cherry petals fall.



Boots In Broken Doorway - Cripple Creek, Colorado

A decade of work:

now all my dreams wither like

unbroken wishbones.



Foster Pond, Bubbles - Acadia National Park, Maine

Listen. A ripple

lapping on the stones at dawn,

and then that’s gone too.



Windmill, Storm Clouds - South Park, Colorado

During My Father’s Illness

Early May and hot.

But who knows whether or not

I’ll need a dark suit?



Dark Sunset - Angel's Peak Recreation Area, New Mexico

Mt. Pinatubo

was coloring the sunsets

when we fell in love.



The Last Roses Of Summer - Westtown, New York


I guess I should toss

the last drooping flowers from

my operation.



Old Cabin Doorway - Great Smokies National Park, Tennessee

King’s Day here on earth.

Who knows what’s sung in heaven?

Here it’s just the blues.