Iron Haiku – Page 125 – A short form poetry blog

The past is a guide;
A companion who leads you
Into the future
Crimson clouds hang low.

The day’s embers glow softly,

burning down to dusk.
I go to freeze on dark tides

I wake before three.

for another’s riches
The night air’s cold hand

reaches down and pulls my breath

in shards from my chest.
Drops of falling rain,
Waiting, outstretched tongue.
Desperately seeking my
Waves, softly lapping

Dappled light wanders.

Across the lush, verdant grass

Loneliness

reading into my
masochistic tendencies-
our old love letters
–
grimy windows-
a metal fan
stirs the air

Beach

white scrims of sea foam
gauzy and delicate as
a dragonfly’s wing
–
seaweed-
sun dried by
the high tide line

White

the whiteness of bone
long buried in the desert
revealed by the wind
–
summer evening-
dogwood petals
in the grass