Ronovan Writes Weekly Haiku Poetry Prompt Challenge #167

Snowflakes on her nose
A touch of winter magic
Hit or miss wonder

Touch the sky, miss earth
Land on earth, long for heaven
Never satisfied

Everywhere You Shouldn’t Be

every time you try
Every poet and painter
every sculptor and composer
before the paper
before the canvas
before the clay
before the notes
Every attempt
an effort to include all
Every word
every bird
salted gluttony
Words hijack and sketches
pull until you are
everywhere you shouldn’t be
Wear a jacket
pull up the hood
Maybe they won’t recognize you
and your sin


Low Pressure

A hieroglyph appeared on the dash
Low tire pressure
A week of airport parking too much
Row 10/Ground level
Somehow a disappointment
Try to do better next time

Infrastructure, and all

Car manufacturers use
Hieroglyphs for tire pressure
Cuneiform for engine problem
Runes for temperature warning
So much to malfunction
Try to do better next time

Infrastructure, and all

1 haiku/thorny

Buffalo Botanical Garden

Misplaced Saguaro
Northern botanic garden
Make believe desert




1 haiku/Crescendo

Summer crescendo
Hibiscus crooning scarlet
Blooming soloist




Rough Air

It does not rain in space.
There is space between the rain
where angels fly
toting dreams
tethered behind their wings.
Aerial advertising using
acrobatic towplanes
with a banner over the beach.

Anticipate turbulence.
Rough air.   Chop.
A little shaking lets you know you are alive.
Then the wings snap off.
Where are the angels now?
Make sure your own mask is secure before helping others.
Be assured oxygen is flowing
with a banner over the beach.


Bring Food

Drinking weak coffee
Someone has to go for food
Dog is arthritic

Singularia tantum:
Japanese nouns do not have
Plural forms          Still
Exception for Kerouac
Pops, and all

Almost autumn here
Someone has to go for food
Fighting with my hair



March on, summer mood
Evasion your specialty
Mobile through revisions of
Observation and denial
Remember we are all to blame
Interring control to a
Zenith trickster, merely a swindler of
Evening shade


Drowning Ivy

I moved myself and my writing paraphernalia to the kitchen table, so I could watch the rain.

It rained so mightily you could not see the neighbor’s house.  The storm was an opaque white blur of falling wet.  Big, heavy drops raced and jockeyed.  And it was loud.  The clouds released a tumult, pounding the deck, the furniture and the whole world.

The rain swallowed everything, including my thoughts.  I did no work.  My words were swept away.  There I sat helpless to rescue my story or the drowning ivy.

The gloom outside was a magnet.  A drenched, drowning magnet with nowhere else to cling, it amassed and assembled rivers and puddles of flooded intentions.


Where do the songbirds go when it rains?
The robin roosts, impatient for the worst of the storm to pass, so she can hunt for floating worms and swollen grubs.  Mourning doves, never shy at the all you can eat buffet, still waddle out just after the heaviest rain moves through.  Finches, nearly motionless in the maple branches, try to conserve warmth and energy with a daydream of sunrises bringing sunflower and thistle seed among a garden of marigolds and zinnias.
At least that is what I imagine.  The songbirds and I pay witness to a reverie of delayed ambition…just until the sun shines.


Ronovan Writes Weekly Haiku Poetry Prompt Challenge #164

Gusty and gutsy
Ominous clouds take pleasure
Excite pretension