The Cracked Door – Daily Haikus
Reflections on life, the world, and society. Come explore with me.
My poem is not a haiku like I normally do.
My barren soul forms
Into all these dead leaves
On days like these,
I am the one
Who feels to blame
For the fall.
A blast from the past:
One lines, two lines, three
Lines, four lines, five lines, six lines
Now I can enter
Henceforth: no more light
At the end of the tunnel.
Budgetary cuts
Blast from the Past:
In a land flowing
With milk and honey, why am
I stuck with the curds?
The big city fades
Into the bright horizon
Of the vast ocean
Blast from the past:
Tombs face our skyline.
Our world watched by what it’ll become,
Dust under the sun.
This culture we’ve built
That molds how we craft our lives
It will mean nothing
Blast from the past:
And what will be left
In a thousand years or less
Amidst all these stones?
Today’s my birthday.
How to make it special when
You love everyday?
Blast from the past:
New revolution
In our random time cycle,
Supposed new me
That great ancient door
That no matter what you do
Will never open
Blast from the past:
Our flood became an
Immobile star, ancient overflow,
That we may prefer.
Towering goddess
Holding a new Cadillac
Dribbling with blood
Blast from the past:
I mourn for the world
The gulf widens from what could
Be to what we have