Cutting the Clouds

Leaf 380 – Looking Back

 

Shiro Takagi - Kites Rising at Dawn (1985)

There’s something magical about kite flying ... It’s a long, long time since I last did it.

 

 

Keen to cut the clouds –

his fingers

let the line unspool.

 

 

 

 

This poem was originally written and posted on Bluesky in response to a #haikufeels writing prompt: 'keen.'

Broken Shoji

Leaf 379 – Reflections

 

Toshi Yoshida - From the Ryogoku Bridge

When what was essentially fleeting gets fixed …

 

 

Time stilled –

broken shoji patched

with newsprint.

 

 

 

 Tetsuro Yoshida - Das Japanische Wohnhaus (1935)

This poem was originally written and posted on Bluesky in response to a #haikufeels writing prompt: 'repair.'

Kurashiki's Canal

Leaf 378 – Looking Back

 

Katsuyuki Nishijima - Breeze (c.1990)

Whenever we use these cups, we always remember warmly the family trip we made there during a chilly, wet February a few years ago.

 

 

Kurashiki’s canal –

memories burnished

into two bizen-ware cups.

 

 

 

 

This haiku was first published in The Haiku Foundation's "Haiku Dialogue" (4 June 2025)

Carbon Copy

Leaf 377 – Reflections

 

Leonid Pasternak - Boris Pasternak Writing (1919)

White. Yellow. Pink. Green. [Indigo]

 

 

Carbon copy –

my name fading

in triplicate.

 

 

 

 

Silver Strand

Leaf 376 – Reflections

 

Sarah Ross Thompson - Tall Shadows

Beauty is (very definitely) in the eye of the beholder.

 

 

Keeping quiet –

a single silver strand

seen in your hair.

 

 

 

Rainbow Puddled

Leaf 375 – Reflections

 

Warning: Engines off. No naked lights.

 

 

Reflected in the sky –

rainbow puddled

beneath a petrol pump.

 

 

 

This haiku was originally written and posted on Bluesky in response to a #dailyhaikuprompt: 'rainbow.'

Photograph Credit: Mathias Reding / Pexels

Unreachable

Loose Leaves – Reflections

 

We live our lives forwards. But at some point, that polarity shifts. In truth though, all we ever really have is the here and now.

 

 

UNREACHABLE

 

Having lived my youth

in the here and now,

while longing for the future

– I now look back

from that future, and long

for the nostalgia,

which I’ve already enjoyed.

 

 

(written whilst listening to Max Richter’s “On the Nature of Daylight”)

 

 

 

Photograph by Estelle Day (1995)