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the colors of spring
emerge from winter's cocoon
of white snow wrapping
This light,
amber edge of autumn,
kisses souls to forget
the once welcomed lethargic sweats of summer
and gently chides us to remember

woollen pullovers and happiness
in sharp cold breaths intaken,
exhaled as a fake sophisticate
puffing on a glamorous cigarette

As the year begins its sleep
our senses wake
to ask questions in the dark
Original Haiku
by Michael R. Burch

These are original haiku and tanka written by Michael R. Burch, along with haiku-like and tanka-like poems inspired by the forms but not necessarily abiding by all the rules.

Dark-bosomed clouds
pregnant with heavy thunder ...
the water breaks
―Michael R. Burch

The poem above is my favorite of my original haiku. I wrote it while working on translations of haiku by the Oriental masters. Here's another one I particularly like:

one pillow ...
our dreams
―Michael R. Burch

The Original Sin: Rhyming Haiku!

should never rhyme:
it’s a crime!
―Michael R. Burch

The herons stand,
sentry-like, at attention ...
rigid observers of some unknown command.
―Michael R. Burch

the golden leaves turn black underfoot:
―Michael R. Burch

Dry leaf flung awry:
bright butterfly,
―Michael R. Burch

A snake in the grass
lies, hissing
―Michael R. Burch

blesses my knuckle
with affectionate dew
―Michael R. Burch

My nose nuzzles
sweet nothings
―Michael R. Burch

The day’s eyes were blue
until you appeared
and they wept at your beauty.
―Michael R. Burch

The moon in decline
like my lover’s heart
lies far beyond mine
―Michael R. Burch

My mother’s eyes
acknowledging my imperfection:
―Michael R. Burch

The sun sets
the moon fails to rise
we avoid each other’s eyes
―Michael R. Burch

brief leaf flung awry ~
bright butterfly, goodbye!
―Michael R. Burch

leaf flutters in flight ~
bright, O and endeavoring butterfly,
―Michael R. Burch

The girl with the pallid lips
into something less comfortable
―Michael R. Burch

I am a traveler
going nowhere,
but my how the gawking bystanders stare!
―Michael R. Burch

Here's a poem composed of haiku-like stanzas:

by Michael R. Burch

Lift up your head
hear spring roar!

How will you tidy your hair
this near

Leave to each still night
your lightest affliction,

Soon you will free yourself:
one shake
of your white mane.

Now there are worlds
into which you appear
and disappear

seemingly at will
but invariably blown
wildly, then still.

Gasp at the bright chill
of winter.

Icicles splinter;
sleep still an hour,
till, resurrected in power,

you lift up your head,
Hear spring roar!

Iffy Coronavirus Haiku

yet another iffy coronavirus haiku #1
by Michael R. Burch

plagued by the Plague
i plague the goldfish
with my verse

yet another iffy coronavirus haiku #2
by Michael R. Burch

hang their heads
embarrassed by their coronas

I wrote the poem above after having a sunflower arrangement delivered to my mother, who is in an assisted living center and can’t have visitors due to the coronavirus pandemic. I have been informed the poem breaks haiku rules about personification, etc.

Homework (yet another iffy coronavirus haiku #3)
by Michael R. Burch

Dim bulb overhead,
my silent companion:
still imitating the noonday sun?

New World Order (last in a series and perhaps a species)
by Michael R. Burch

The days of the dandelions dawn ...
soon man will be gone:

Variations on Fall

Farewells like
so many sad goodbyes.
―Michael R. Burch

Falling leaves
brittle hearts
whisper farewells
―Michael R. Burch

Autumn leaves
soft farewells
falling ...
falling ...
falling ...
―Michael R. Burch

Autumn leaves
Fall’s farewells
Whispered goodbyes
―Michael R. Burch

Variations on the Seasons
by Michael R. Burch

Mother earth
prepares her nurseries:
spring greening

The trees become
coy behind fans

Wobbly fawns
have become the fleetest athletes:

Dry leaves
scuttle like *****:


The sky

translucent flake
lighter than eiderdown

the entire town entombed
but not in gloom,

Variations on Night

ice and darkness
conspire against human warmth
―Michael R. Burch

Night and the Stars
conspire against me:
―Michael R. Burch

in the ice-cold cathedral
prayer candles ablaze
flicker warmthlessly
―Michael R. Burch

Variations on the Arts
by Michael R. Burch

Paint peeling:
the novel's
novelty wears off ...

The autumn marigold's
former glory:

Human arias?
The nightingale frowns, perplexed.
Tone deaf!

Where do cynics
finally retire?

All the world’s
a stage
unless it’s a cage.

To write an epigram,
If you lack wit, scram.

should never rhyme:
it’s a crime!

dumped the **** tube
for YouTube.

can rap:
just write rhythmic crap!

Variations on Lingerie
by Michael R. Burch

Were you just a delusion?
The black negligee you left
now merest illusion.

The clothesline
ripe with unmentionables.

The clothesline quivers:
or ghosts?

Variations on Love and Wisdom
by Michael R. Burch

Wise old owls
stare myopically at the moon,
hooting as the hart escapes.

Myopic moon-haunted owls
hoot as the hart escapes

The myopic owl,
moon-intent, scowls;
my rabbit heart thunders ...
Peace, wise fowl!


All the wild energies
of electric youth
captured in the monochromes
of an ancient photobooth
like zigzagging lightning.
―Michael R. Burch

The plums were sweet,
icy and delicious.
To eat them all
was perhaps malicious.
But I vastly prefer your kisses!
―Michael R. Burch

A child waving ...
The train groans slowly away ...
Loneliness ...
Somewhere in the distance gusts
scatter the stray unharvested hay ...
―Michael R. Burch

How vaguely I knew you
however I held you close ...
your heart’s muffled thunder,
your breath the wind―
rising and dying.
―Michael R. Burch


by Michael R. Burch

How can she bear her grief?
Mightier than Atlas, she shoulders the weight
of one fallen star.

sheer green stockings
queer green beer
St. Patrick's Day!
―Michael R. Burch

cicadas chirping everywhere
singing to beat the band―
surround sound
―Michael R. Burch

Regal, upright,
clad in royal purple:
―Michael R. Burch

Love is a surreal sweetness
in a world where trampled grapes
become wine.
―Michael R. Burch

although meant for market
a pail full of strawberries
invites indulgence
―Michael R. Burch

late November;
skeptics scoff
but the geese no longer migrate
―Michael R. Burch

as the butterfly hunts nectar
the generous iris
continues to bloom
―Michael R. Burch

Keywords/Tags: Haiku, Tanka, coronavirus, nature, love, heart, family, mother, son, seasons, spring, summer, fall, winter, sun, moon, rhyme, rhymed, mrbhaiku
You’re like the last part of fall
When the leaves all fall off
When the good part’s gone
Who you used to be was so fun

The thrills of new seasons come and go
And all you’re left with is the cold
Without the magic of the snow
Who you used to be was so good

When everything has turned to grey
Without the peace that comes from rain
When all the colors fade away
Who you used to be was so great
Lane O Sep 12
Oh, those mounds of gold that bestrew my yard
Are piles of crisp oak leaves I raked this fall.
Ere their deep hue of verdurous beauty
Belonged to the summertime, I recall.
My love is
Sweet as morning's air
Warm as springs sun
Gentle as it's wind

My love is
Harsh as the winters breeze
Cold as it's nights
Absent warmth in day and night

My love is
The sun which dries tears
The thundering storm
Fun as summer days

My love is
The sun, without I

My love is
⠀⠀t.he SPray
⠀o(f⠀⠀ bEEr wet afternoons
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ r u n⠀ n⠀⠀i⠀⠀⠀n⠀⠀⠀⠀g
into the evening
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ?C U T⠀short
september .beautifulsisterwhosleeps
woken sets a new table-
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ but not before we
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ splash! loud and
,a million
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ hide
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ and
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ s
e⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ek
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ g.ames we
played on⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Mother
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ eartH
now we feast before the ending
(but its not really the ending is it?
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ before we die
                                             ­  FROzEN
  ­      of a new Us
and a better
Brian Yule Sep 9
Sultry days
Lustrous beads
Drip from hanging papaya
Glistening like
Amber teardrop earrings
I met my summer
a sweet August night
a sugar-sticky sweet smile
and a promise of friendship
forever, so long ago
not knowing, my little summer
would soon fall
hey guys might make this a multiple part poem so read it or not im just here to write
As the leaves crunch beneath my feet,
and the trees weep their now yellow leaves.
I'm filled with glee as I feel the cold breeze,
don't let Fall end, please.
Because the weather is nice,
and our house will be warm.
The chimney will smoke,
as the fire is born.
We'll be surrounded by friends,
and our family will swarm.

But you'll hear the pleas,
for the weather to be warm.
It'll come from the families whose clothes at torn.
So if it'll stop them from freezing,
stop the children from wheezing,
I guess you can stop
the cold Fall's breezing...
I wrote this last Fall, but my friend said it was stupid, so I never shared it. I don't care what that friend thinks anymore.
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