Literature – Iron Haiku

an old shaking hand-
steady as it dips a brush
into the inkwell
–
autumn’s essence-
poems painted
on rice paper

the cruel midday sun-
neat rows of old cars in their
final rusting place
–
high noon-
steam billows from
my open hood

writing in the dark-
I dip my pen into the
inkwell of the night
–
a forest path-
fallen trees
turn to dust

leaving my baggage
there’s far too much to carry
along this journey
–
the river left behind-
ewer water
darkens the road

now all that remains-
the sweet taste of success and
your cherry lip gloss
–
fresh cut grass-
an old blanket and
poetry

april’s robin song-
the morning moon rolls over
and kisses the sun
–
cat at my feet-
your back warm
against my chest

staring at myself
I see that I have become
what I feared the most
–
predawn-
coming awake
in a stranger’s mind

an ocean of books
barely able to slake my
thirst for the unknown
–
gunmetal clouds-
stepping outside
into the deluge

telling my story
words spilling off of my tongue
and into your ears
–
snowfall-
the chasm
of a blank page

awake at first light
realizing far too late
I’m not who I thought
–
venus rising-
difficult memories
consigned to the fire