(Mostly)HAIKU COLLECTION
(Mostly)HAIKU is a poem journal from the roads that lead nowhere and everywhere.
// (Mostly)HAIKU on runokokoelma tien päältä.
Creative Commons BY.
Spin like a dervish. Fall into the complete flow. No stops or rewinds.
Through sun and the wind. Climb as high as high as the trail goes. In level with clouds.
The powerful play. The effective annoyance. Masks of the monkey.
One seeking to fly. The other holding the light. Fiction to Fact tied.
No shadows casted. Plum petals of deception. Flowers at your reach.
Tree of frozen fruits. Either bravely hanging on. Or afraid to leap.
Suddenly it's there. New spectrum filling a sphere. Focus locked in place.
Through shadows it shines. Alive in the silhouettes. Rays framed by darkness.
Alley by alley. Looking for every something. Until seeing none.
Sky is there somewhere. Behind the stains of ego. Urging you to rise.
Above the valley. A bare tree for all to see. No leafs left to fall.
Dark skies but bright minds. Every deep breath full of life. All worry washed out.
Clear all that clutter. Let the silence wash over. Emerge from the sea.
Claws cover the heart. Wings escaping the arrows. Crane at Tiger’s side.
And so the sun sets. Inevitable escape. Horizon unplugged.
Bright like no other. Rays like sirens of the sea. Happily neck deep.
Reactions to rain. Some beaten by every drop. Some smile to the sky.
Fragile coral tiles. Once alive at deep below. Exposed elements.
Luring point of view. Watching home through foreign eyes. Wanderlust first aid.
Escape to right now. Letting go of who I was. No rush to rebirth.
So sets todays sun. The marvellous curtain drop. The happy bow out.
Unanswered questions. Doubts, fears, worries, tears, what not. Shredded by the trail.
First flakes falling down. If I shut my sense of touch. I am on a beach.
Through the open space. The flying silverlining. Weekend warrior.
Hanger by hanger. Cut loose what was or will be. Leave only bare now.
Feet still touch the dock. Deliberating deep dives. Open sea ahead.
Lay down too late, still too early. Rise up too early, still too late. Perfect timing in disguise.
January's last. Wind bites to scare you away. But the river runs.
A hidden harbour. Cape of good intent and vain. Never to set sail.