I cheated a bit:

#haiku #DailyHaikuPrompt #poetry #haikufeels

John Sturges captured in a behind-the-scenes photograph alongside his American contingent James Coburn, Steve McQueen and Charles Bronson during the filming of "THE GREAT ESCAPE" (1963), taken on location in Bavaria, Germany

🎬 United Artists

From something longer I’m still working on:

#poetry #WritingCommunity

I — the hospitable ecosystem
for a carousel of abstraction—
for all the lives I’ve lived
in parallel
across space-time.

I may be singular;
I may be
𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘦
in the harsh
open
atmosphere.

But I am an army,
a counsel,
a consulate,
a kingdom!

Inside a world
𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘴𝘦𝘦
or access.

#VSS365 #Poem

Oblique, subtract me.
The myth consumes the pain.
King James and Milton.

#haiku #poetry #WritingCommunity

First attempt at tanka:

Weave thrice round my heart
Rosaries of glass and ice
Little fractured things
They drop like winter darkness
A heart in hibernation

#poetry #tankathursday #WritingCommunity

I lost the thread, my
Mind perspires, brain baked blank,
Hidden by the light .

#haiku #dailyhaikuprompt #poetry #WritingCommunity

Something new for the new year:

I caught her looking like a queen,
Naked neath her wedding ring-
Statuesque, unpurified,
Scattered by the morning light.

substack.com/@zabauer/not...

I saved your picture
Long ago, winter sun bright
Life? Fire. Swept away.

#DailyHaikuPrompt #Haiku #WritingCommunity

“Say you’ll take me there,” she said,
“This day was made for sighs.
You decide the taste of them,
And we’ll go back to our lives.”

“My lover’s name is nothing;
Your lover is not made.
None of us are married yet—
We’re really not to blame.”

#poems #poetry #bedroomeyes

Two haiku (ish) for my evening blues:

Water drips beside me
When did rain become the rain?
Only five hours remain

Sing blue cessation
See me drifting off to sleep
Why don’t shadows speak?

#poetry #poems #haiku

This was in my head this morning:

Fractured nails, my palms are torn,
Splinters from your bedroom floor.
A decade long, a lifetime wide,
Forty cubits into the sky.

Maybe a seed? Maybe a complete work?

Richard II rattling around in my head:

“I live with bread like you, feel want/Taste grief, need friends- subjected thus/How can you say to me, I am a king?”

Sometimes I have to remind myself. Being king of my own little world has its flaws.