The act of writing a haiku is far simpler than the art of writing one. While the concept seems simple, three lines of 5, 7 and 5 syllables, the resulting poem is essentially a complete story — an introduction, body and conclusion in three lines — that allows the reader to fill in the essence.
The following are either selections for the 2010 Syracuse Poster Project (posterproject.org) or those selected as the best of the ones not chosen to be illustrated.
Carbonated jazz,
sloe gin soul with open mic,
two drink minimum.
Elisabeth M. Anderson
Blue moon, Big Dipper
Sunflowers under porch lights
Peace on the South Side
Claire Bobrycki
Black coffee only
Cappuccino and latt (c)
just hold up the line
Herm Card
Clinton Square fountain
soaks me intermittently.
You carry my shoes.
Jane Cassady
Ears flapping in wind
trying to keep the dog’s pace
walking me instead
Cynthia DeKing
Canal over creek,
yearning for one another;
waters never blend.
Elizabeth Dunn
Travel ways snaking
over, under, tying fast
asphalt ribbons home
Jennifer Groff
sumac growing wild
right in Columbus Circle!
someday, a forest
Catherine Landis
White trilliums light
the dark forest floor glowing
ghostly like spilled stars
Peggy Liuzzi
Summer sun mirrors
A gallery of faces
Salina glitters
Michael McAnaney
The last dish is fired
Kiln’s cooled, now the auction starts
Good-bye my old friend
Wendy Moleski
Siren warbles past
flashing lights, weaving traffic
nine-one-one response
William Padgett
In this Salt City
Spirit of industry born
Sugar maples bloom
U.V. Ray (Mark Bickley)
Stone throwers were right–
What would Tipp Hill be without
that green-on-top light?
Michele Reed
The flock of pigeons
Boards the westward bound Centro
As the engine purrs
Leora Sapon-Shevin
Bluebirds strafe two cats
as they stroll down Midland Ave.
A bulldog watches.
Bryan Wilbur
Mallards downshifting:
Ace pilots dropping in for
Skimmed surface splash-downs.
Barbara Brace
Snow is falling thick
Covering me with white lace,
I’ve wed my shovel.
Rosalyn Carroll
the creek flows proudly
between royal purple banks–
invasive loosestrife!
Sherry Chayat
Onondaga’s carp
Are beautiful–eating junk,
breathing mud, living.
Eric Darby
Before brick-laid streets
Before hand-dug waterways
This was good swampland.
Tom Huff
Pigeons peck the street
Janitors of the city
In gray overalls
Megan Reed
The golden staircase
in the mouth of the Landmark
blows red chair kisses.
Michael Sickler
Waiting for the bus
Car drives by blastin’ music
Mind on my money
Bruce Smith
