Iron Haiku – Page 85 – A short form poetry blog

The night air’s cold hand

reaches down and pulls my breath

in shards from my chest.
Crimson clouds hang low.

The day’s embers glow softly,

burning down to dusk.
The past is a guide;
A companion who leads you
Into the future
I go to freeze on dark tides

I wake before three.

for another’s riches
Waves, softly lapping

Dappled light wanders.

Across the lush, verdant grass
Drops of falling rain,
Waiting, outstretched tongue.
Desperately seeking my

Chill

a stinging backhand-
the first truly cold fall day
greets me with malice
–
grey exhaust-
white plumes
of breath

History

sepia photos
memories of summerfields
slowly turn to dust
–
summer sky-
carousel music
on the pier

Morning

incessant beeping-
cobwebs in my coffee cup
my head thick with sleep
–
gentle sunlight-
irish breakfast and
the sunday puzzle