Haiku #1: Crush

Liking someone hurts

Feeling unworthy of love

Wishing he noticed.

Advertisements

Rain drop

It’s funny how a little rain turns the world upside down.

One moment you’re golden and soaring and azure and invincible then

Plop.

A fat droplet of moisture hits your face.

You’re confused where it came from. Wasn’t it supposed to be summer?

It doesn’t take long for another to join it

Plop. Then another few plop, plop,

Before the heavens bare their soul to you, inviting you to do the same.

A flash illuminates the monotonous grey and a chill crawls up your spine

Peeling back another layer as the sky continues to fall

Plop.

Plop.

 

You’re soaked through, water seeping into every orifice it can

Till it reaches your bones and settles there.

The instruments intended to defend you from the elements

Powerless at the mercy of that relentless drum beat

Plop. Plop. Plop.

It becomes hard to imagine a world without that pervasive moisture in the air

Without the incessant echo residing in the background.

Was there ever a time when everything wasn’t damp? Before

Dankness and wailing winds and muddy browns were

The defining senses consuming your skin and ears and eyes.

 

Life is put on hold.

Buses are delayed.

Trains are halted indefinitely.

Aircrafts grounded.

Getting to work becomes a physical ordeal along with the

Mental emotional spiritual challenge it already is.

It is so hard to connect two minds even without bodies being separated too.

Will it ever end?

You know it will,

Eventually

Soon

Anytime now.

Right?

Plop.

Right?

Plop.

 

But the clouds do roll away

And the air is crisper and the day finer than before.

Life explodes banishing the darkness while only

Vestiges remain of the passing storm:

The earth still sinks as you tread its paths,

The grass sparkles with a newfound brilliancy,

The earth worms lie by the side of the road

Casualties of the deadly river trickling past their wriggling corpses

Doomed by the emerging radiance.

And from every rooftop, tree branch, any surface under the sky

The telltale chorus prevails.

 

Plop.

 

Plop.