Iron Haiku – Page 108 – A short form poetry blog

Crimson clouds hang low.

The day’s embers glow softly,

burning down to dusk.
The night air’s cold hand

reaches down and pulls my breath

in shards from my chest.
The past is a guide;
A companion who leads you
Into the future
Waves, softly lapping

Dappled light wanders.

Across the lush, verdant grass
I go to freeze on dark tides

I wake before three.

for another’s riches
Drops of falling rain,
Waiting, outstretched tongue.
Desperately seeking my

Gardening

a cutting garden-
in the shade of a straw hat
she tends the flowers
–
up with the sun-
bent double
pulling weeds

Danger

sitting at the bar-
beautiful and dangerous
death in a red dress
–
mangrove trees-
crocodiles
come and go

Roses

crimson rose petals
clinging to a withered stem
slowly turning brown
–
tea rose petals –
the crystal bowl
overflowing