Iron Haiku – Page 166 – 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
Drops of falling rain,
Waiting, outstretched tongue.
Desperately seeking my
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

Driving

driving through the night
the asphalt beneath my wheels
becomes slick with snow
–
my future-
lost in the oncoming
headlights

Empty

an empty barstool-
I decide to take a risk
on conversation
–
empty glasses-
my napkin
torn to shreds

Peace

a golden buddha
in quiet contemplation
half buried in snow
–
gentle snow-
singing bowls
fall silent