burning hair, tempts heart —
fast to ignite, scorching me —
her cleansing heat.
###
she orbits my life;
diminutive dynamo —
her passion wheel spins.
###
she, such rich chocolate —
bold pungence of life's deep fluid
feeds, fattens the soul.
###
sun opens blossom;
she blooms in the light of eyes —
pollen for the soul.
###
she, divine wind speeds —
the heart's coastline trembles, moves;
life — storm of her heart
###
her eye's morning dew:
sun glistens on chilly tears —
mourning memory shines, so.
###
rising sun frames her —
trapped statue of life: cold, hard;
warm heart's chisel frees.
###
new blossoms in trees —
you bud, naively fresh, so:
soothing soul's shadow
###
your fingers on me —
my eyelids, such heavy clouds;
touch lulls to sweet sleep.
###
blood pulses in throat;
passion inflames the spirit,
fleet life runs the course.
###
machine systems: oil;
blood, tears propel humans too —
all life's lubricants.
###
she strokes air, water
a stream of relief for me —
life saver, she is
###
rush, pressure of time:
chest tightens, breath eludes me:
Your breath fills me now
###
winter fades; sunrise —
you, warm breeze of Nordic skies,
nestling in the soul.
###
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Wednesday, November 23, 2011
haiku by hein monnig [2011]
she, the autumn leaves,
as thin time, golden, freezes —
sleeping life's branches
###
morning spring stillness;
she rests — repose in quietude:
her sapling will sprout.
###
winter's end is she:
a crisp coolth, thin sun and breeze —
incandescence, now.
###
Eyes, dark river stones —
her look: rivulets of joy.
My soul, mystified.
###
wind carries her voice,
hear the song of ears' delight;
music's balmy breeze
###
cracked mountain, seething
sending heat spigots, gushing —
death's fountain, living.
###
the wind strokes the skin;
her look is as the breeze, gusting —
soothing the brow, now.
as thin time, golden, freezes —
sleeping life's branches
###
morning spring stillness;
she rests — repose in quietude:
her sapling will sprout.
###
winter's end is she:
a crisp coolth, thin sun and breeze —
incandescence, now.
###
Eyes, dark river stones —
her look: rivulets of joy.
My soul, mystified.
###
wind carries her voice,
hear the song of ears' delight;
music's balmy breeze
###
cracked mountain, seething
sending heat spigots, gushing —
death's fountain, living.
###
the wind strokes the skin;
her look is as the breeze, gusting —
soothing the brow, now.
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