Take it away, this acyrlic
heart, take it away and give
it to hospitals, underlie your buffeted dreams in a nether world of
importunate sorrows.

I arrived one day in this place, a hill town of salubrity, every
moment here was a pine drop, moment of the wind, evanescent hills
waiting to be glimpsed, contours rested in broad frames of the mind, rains unleashed weather spots, fruits the odour of pines. I will come back to these hills with picture post cards that will be hung on wallpapers of the mind, not in dark corners of sitting rooms. And in this sleepy town I dig roots of the past, common sensibilities, write a poem with you my surrogate love always asking questions and reworking destinies of love.

We found each other
along the way
not like a stardust
romance across the room
but real work
and real life.

Springtime’s weather
ruffles the hair,
wind catches the eye,
a leaf brushes past
entangled on the mouth,
little sorrows I dream of,
not big huge ones, the little
sorrows, small, beautiful,
and the rasping hurt of the
sun wishes away sorrows,
little ones,
big ones, causing hurt in springtime’s blue ashes.

spring sunrise
on the maternity ward
a drizzle of lambs

More at https://twitter.com/Haikuintraining.

early dawn
listening to the wind
tap on the window

More at https://twitter.com/Haikuintraining.