Haiku and other brief poems

Broken typewriter…

How many poems

Are left inside it?

By Anna Goluba

On Planet Grandma

The sky is filled with children

Circling above her

By David J. Bookbinder

the dry grass

swishes back and forth

nasal hair

By David Roberts

I’m lazy, baby.

When I roll up my sleeves, it’s

a fashion statement.

By Jane Wallace Pearson

Caught between the angry

Conversation of sea and shore

Shells remain silent

By Laurie Kuntz

mobile phone

vibrating on my pillow

your name in lights

By Ciarán Parkes

Valentine’s Day party

only mom at the preschool

without a ring

By Tia Hayes

Yellow leaves drop down

like old phone books from heaven.

One has your number.

By Allen Guest

distant ship –

the waves bring me back

pieces of moon

By Dennys Cambarau

I can’t give you the moon and stars,

but you’re always welcome to look

through my telescope

By Bartholomew Barker

read me like a story

lick me like a stamp

send me to heaven

By Genie Nakano

as rain writes

poems on windscreen

wipers turn the pages

By Ram Chandran

lady bug

clings to window screen

wants in

By Lisa Reynolds

eighth birthday
her new front teeth
whistle softly

By Angele Ellis

in the surf
a how-salty-is-the-water kiss

By Julian Heylinck

who knows
what a snail gets up to
inside the shell

By Melissa Dennison

thorn’s story…
is red rose
the villain?

By Srini

pencil shavings
the familiar scent
of childhood

By Mona Bedi

daydreaming
about you
on my ‘stop-doing’ list

By Petra Schmidt

My love
Will open the door, well, maybe
Just the window

By Sarah Mahina Calvello

voice of mom and dad
one in each ear whispering
different stories

pair by r soos

autumn sun-
even ants have a shadow

By Gabriella de Masi

autumn wind
my wig runs after
the leaves

By Nazarena Rampini

winds blew his scattered
ashes back into my face
for a good-bye kiss

By James Penha

science project
the melting point
of a wicked witch

By Laurie Greer

Half the poems are written
about the moon. Jupiter has
twelve. Poets must go crazy.

On Jupiter by Bob Rosenbloom

Only Google knows
how many times
I have typed your name

By Benno Schmidt

lips i kissed
a while ago, now
playing harmonica

By Alvin B. Cruz