Iron Haiku – Page 72 – A short form poetry blog

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
The past is a guide;
A companion who leads you
Into the future
Waves, softly lapping

Dappled light wanders.

Across the lush, verdant grass

Sleet

reemergent sun-
every blade of autumn grass
gleaming cut crystal
–
pewter light-
glazed branches
trap the moon

Ghost

passing a graveyard
the white lady walks alone
between the headstones
–
diaphanous-
her burial shroud
becomes the fog

Consciousness

a coyote’s howl-
I walk out of my own skin
and right into yours
–
afloat-
my body below
an anchor