found.poetry.me | Out to See: A Dozen More

. . . . . i . . . . .

sing, little birdie —

when all the others forget

their rhyming jingles

. . . . . ii . . . . .

the playmate hours

such as they are when people

fend flame for ashes

. . . . . iii . . . . .

gentle stone harvests

neighbor moods and memories

coloring with lime

. . . . . iv . . . . .

flowers in the dark

at the widow’s winter house

a caged bird at home

. . . . . v . . . . .

a few sparrows mourn

wild roses o’er children’s graves

baby-house famine

. . . . . vi . . . . .

the farmwives’ sorrows

lost inside a buried mist

verses at daybreak

. . . . . vii . . . . .

atop the hillside

two musicians awake, still

sheltered together

. . . . . viii . . . . .

her four-leaved clover

eagle trees and fallen oak

night on Star Island

. . . . . ix . . . . .

their little dolls lied

spendthrift sunflower children

feeding souls at night

. . . . . x . . . . .

chisel-faced mothers

long mornings of discontent

boat songs and letters

. . . . . xi . . . . .

the road, the flame — life

lemon juice and lightning bugs

summer overtones

. . . . . xii . . . . .

Maine women writing

distant drones of barge and bell

all is just passing

. . . . .

Poet: Susan Powers Bourne
Source: Women.Poets.Maine
Process: Pick-mix cento haiku

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s