Haiku

by firewriter

Published September 28, 2011

Everywhere I look
I see them there haunting me
Shadows of my past

Free for anything
But I am tied down to Earth
A captive angel

The world is laughing
You can also laugh too much
And that's what I did

In cartoon graveyards
Bodies are dead but alive
Almost forgotten

Go stand in the rain
And let your tears flow swiftly
Let them fill gutters

All friends are precious
When you have them to laugh with
But what if you don't?

All time passes you
As you walk in someone's dream
A cruel impersonation.

I walk past children
Playing in their own small world
Who are they kidding?

Stars shine endlessly
They sparkle, twinkle and laugh
Their song forever

Waiting in the dark
Just sitting and listening
For the lgiht to come

Life goes up and down
It lives and breathes but then dies
'Cause we destroy it.

Comments & reviews · 3
User avatar
Miyakko
Review
Miyakko wrote a review Review · Sep 28, 2011

Hey firewriter,

This was flawless, I thought. It had the right amount of expressionand feeling, and you got out all that
you needed to say. I thought the length of it was perfect, so too how it started right through to how it
ended. With a structure like a haiku, you need to stick to the rules (5, 7, 5) which you did, but many
would think this strict structure may block the flow of creativity. Well you, you have defied this and shown
us something great, yet obeys the laws of haiku.

Brilliant. Miyakko.

User avatar
ladymay Comment
ladymay commented Comment · Sep 28, 2011

How touching! You really managed to capture the feeling with this piece. You've always been great at haiku. :)

Random avatar
Wentworth Review
Wentworth wrote a review Review · Sep 28, 2011

Hi.

This was an interesting piece. I was unsure if the pieces were stand alone, or if they shouldbe read together. I thought they worked well together, how they tied into one another but still kept their own separate meaning.

Good job.

I'm not usually a fan of haku's, but I enjoyed reading these.

Thanks for posting.



A poet is, before anything else, a person who is passionately in love with language.
— W.H. Auden