Haiku Battle

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Note: This is not in need of reviews as it is not a literary work. This is a game-type activity.

Here's a poetry exercise to sharpen our description with as few words as possible. Could that mean Haiku?

That's right, folks. We here at the poetry forum are gonna duke it out--not with swords or guns, but with words.

Seventeen syllables worth, to be precise. If you're not aware of what a Haiku is, here's a quick note:

Haiku is a form of poetry consisting of three lines, respectively measuring 5/7/5 in beats. A Haiku is typically about nature, and more often than not denotes a particular season in which the poem takes place (though it doesn't have to, by any means). They're beautiful things, and, while small, can take masterful lyricists to craft.

Senryu are similar, although they deal with more human ideas/emotions/situations. They're my personal favorite. Same format.

So this is our battle, poets! The task is simple: merely post a Haiku or Senryu.

The major hitch of the exercise is that the first line of your poem must feed off of the last line of the one above yours. The entire poem may be different, but they'll all be connected. One huge Poem Chain. To begin:

Downpours in the south
make rivers strong as wildfire;
April boasts its strength.
I am a forest fire and an ocean, and I will burn you just as much
as I will drown everything you have inside.
-Shinji Moon


I am the property of Rydia, please return me to her ship.




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Like fingers prodding
and rosy tips are displayed.
May hits soft as ever

(God I hate haikus. Not even sure I did it right >.> I'll stick to free write.)
"Nothing is permanent in this wicked world - not even our troubles." ~ Charles Chaplin

#tnt




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with soft gray rainfall.
She dances through the flowers
and sings a June-song.


(I think we have a month-theme going on.)
Never forget who you are, for surely the world will not. Make it your strength. Then it can never be your weakness. Armor yourself in it, and it will never be used to hurt you.




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The heat in petals
curls across the sky. Watch, now,
how July unfolds.
Lumi: they stand no chance against the JAG SAFETY BLANKET




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Then leaves begin to curl,
and crackle under wisps of smoke
as September falls.

(Ew, I'm going to become obsessed with this thing.)
"Nothing is permanent in this wicked world - not even our troubles." ~ Charles Chaplin

#tnt




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The howl of hounds low
and hypnotic, under the
pale October moon.
Lumi: they stand no chance against the JAG SAFETY BLANKET




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Winds are violent
with change; here comes our harvest,
Dear November fields.
I am a forest fire and an ocean, and I will burn you just as much
as I will drown everything you have inside.
-Shinji Moon


I am the property of Rydia, please return me to her ship.




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It seems that the snow
should not fall so heavily;
alas, December.




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I really liked your 'haiku'; although I really don't understand what the meaning is.




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January spins
in a storm of broken sweat
while I kiss snowflakes.

(We're going to run out of months soon you guys!)
Never forget who you are, for surely the world will not. Make it your strength. Then it can never be your weakness. Armor yourself in it, and it will never be used to hurt you.




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They fall like cold stars
cast out over the ocean,
these fresh drops of rain.

(just to break the month fad)
I am a forest fire and an ocean, and I will burn you just as much
as I will drown everything you have inside.
-Shinji Moon


I am the property of Rydia, please return me to her ship.




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But they sang in their
swift Fall, sang hymns to the skies
from which they tumbled.




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They spread like venom,
seeping from the Autumn clouds
like blood from a deer.
I am a forest fire and an ocean, and I will burn you just as much
as I will drown everything you have inside.
-Shinji Moon


I am the property of Rydia, please return me to her ship.




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Soaking into soil,
they turned the world dark and red,
a summer eclipse.




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Through your fingers it
runs dark still. Does it also
taste of wildberries?
Lumi: they stand no chance against the JAG SAFETY BLANKET



The secret of being tiresome is to tell everything.
— Voltaire