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# / Author
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MCLI
Robert D. Wilson
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we kiss inside
the rainbow, unaware of
pots of gold
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MCLII
Zhanna P. Rader
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A young couple
under a beach umbrella —
their telling smiles.
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MCLIII
Robert D. Wilson
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high noon . . .
i rub aloe on her
sunburned back
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MCLIV
Zhanna P. Rader
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Fifty years pass —
Morton salt umbrella girl
still underage.
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MCLV
Robert D. Wilson
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the clasp on
your dress waits for dusk . . .
morning stream
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MCLVI
Zhanna P. Rader
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Flirting with him,
both she and her lace
parasol.
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MCLVII
Robert D. Wilson
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like a haiku,
the lace covering
her bodice
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MCLVIII
Zhanna P. Rader
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Darkening corner —
her wet umbrella leans
against his.
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MCLIX
Robert D. Wilson
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ah, rain!
the joy of deep
morning!
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MCLX
Zhanna P. Rader
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Bowing "hello" —
his black umbrella
to her pink one.
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MCLXI
Robert D. Wilson
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umbrellas?
looking underneath the
one next to mine
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MCLXII
Zhanna P. Rader
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Forget-me-nots —
underneath her hat brim,
blue eyes filled with tears.
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MCLXIII
Hugh Bygott
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Departing Spring —
How easily the flush of love fades
as does the dusk . . .
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. . . yet in that tranquil air
Psyche waits and dreams. |
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MCLXIV
Robert D. Wilson
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bye, summer . . .
there are leaves to play in
at dusk
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| it's summer in the philippines |
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MCLXV
Betty kaplan
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where was he
when summer left —
I did but wait
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MCLXVI
Zhanna P. Rader
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His blueberry tongue,
my raspberry tongue —
honeymooning.
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MCLXVII
Robert D. Wilson
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stitching
the breath of a
thousand moons . . .
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MCLXVIII
Hugh Bygott
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Deep floating lillies —
Woman’s pain and pleasure:
Does this not move the world?
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MCLXIX
Michele Harvey
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lover's spat
in the withering heat
a fan churns
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MCLXX
Cecelia Quentin-Webb
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Blush of crimson —
this lushness of love . . .
Do the reed warblers know?
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| [I write here under a nom de plume trying to understand haiku from the view point of a woman. Subscribers will remember Akiko Suyama and Huang Zhijuan, The phrase koi no shigeki, “the lushness of love”, comes from the classical Japanese love waka. HB] |
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MCLXXI
Zhanna P. Rader
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Lightning —
her grip on his umbrella
tightens.
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| [3rd place in the May 2009 Shiki Double Kukai] |
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MCLXXII
Hugh Bygott
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Evensong —
our eyes meet; just a little chance . . .
perhaps a lacqurer'd rose.
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MCLXXIII
Zhanna P. Rader
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Inhaling the sent
of a rose... and a gnat —
the call of love.
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MCLXXIV
Michele Harvey
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still wrapped
a bouquet on the table
I, in his arms
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MCLXXV
Zhanna P. Rader
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His arm
tight around my waist —
a swallow flight.
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MCLXXVI
Cecelia Quentin-Webb
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Our lips gently touch . . .
his words: butterflies seeking nectar
enter a flower-field . . .
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MCLXXVII
Zhanna P. Rader
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A damselfly
on her bikini —
rising tide...
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MCLXXVIII
Hugh Bygott
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Distant willows —
Her eyes, mirrors of desire, seek mine
in this sad farewell.
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| A true story. 1 June 2009. The “distant willows” are the many willow trees that line the Cam River as it winds through Cambridge. The student was returning to Italy. She was truly like the refined willow which symbolises femininity in the Japanese poetic tradition. HB |
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MCLXXIX
Michele Harvey
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sparks fly —
lingering over a fire
summer stars
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MCLXXX
Zhanna P. Rader
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Grass of Parnassus —
finding your perfection,
I lose myself.
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MCLXXXI
Michele Harvey
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where tide
meets the sand...
a rose tattoo
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MCLXXXII
Zhanna P. Rader
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Sunny vacations end —
even your footprints in the sand
are gone.
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MCLXXXIII
Hugh Bygott
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Sacred lilies —
Enduring, they will not fade,
nor will the Virgin’s love.
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| Today I visited an exhibition of icons made by Russian Orthodox nuns. I was moved by a painting of the Virgin and Child with lilies embroidered on her robe. The caption in Russian read: "These lilies will never fade nor wlll the Virgin Mary's love for us." I am always aware of the close connection between religious love and sensuous love. HB |
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MCLXXXIV
Cecelia Quentin-Webb
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Summer dusk —
He unties my scented robe . . .
. . .Slowly, my lover !
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MCLXXXV
Zhanna P. Rader
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Beach lounger —
my bare skin's absorbing
moonlight.
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MCLXXXVI
Hugh Bygott
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Gusting winds
lift her skirt and spoil the cherry blossoms . . .
What mixed emotions!
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MCLXXXVII
Zhanna P. Rader
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Cherry petals
caught in his curls —
I'll leave them there.
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MCLXXXVIII
Cecelia Quentin-Webb
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My fragrance lingers
on his skin, our passion spent . . .
. . . this satined rose.
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MCLXXXIX
Zhanna P. Rader
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These rose petals
with morning dew drops —
remembering your lips.
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MCXC
Hugh Bygott
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Lonely hyacinth —
music and metaphysics . . .
do these not touch your soul?
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MCXCI
Zhanna P. Rader
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Your and my
silent togetherness —
first snowdrops.
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MCXCII
Cecelia Quentin - Webb
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Humming bird in flight —
this swift flush of emotions
as my lips seal his.
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MCXCIII
Zhanna P. Rader
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My day moon,
your night moon —
dreams of each other.
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MCXCIV
Hugh Bygott
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Wild violets —
how many have bloomed, unseen in this
Summer of loneliness?
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MCXCV
Zhanna P. Rader
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The moon,
skinny dipping —
we join the fun.
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MCXCVI
Michele Harvey
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past my prime...
the rose petals fall
so silently
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MCXCVII
Robert D. Wilson
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what is prime?
the whisper
of fresh pollen
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MCXCVIII
Zhanna P. Rader
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Valentine lunch —
our eyes meet...
so do our legs...
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MCXCIX
Robert D. Wilson
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twilight
paints shyness into
a smile
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MCC
Zhanna P. Rader
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Her shyness —
the dormant volcano
is yet to explode.
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