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# / Author
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MCCI
Michele Harvey
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fireflies...
all the lovers
I'll never know
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MCCII
Robert D. Wilson
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those blossoms . . .
fireflies spiraling
around the moon
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MCCIII
Zhanna P. Rader
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They call him Firefly —
his name should have been
Meteor.
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MCCIV
Michele Harvey
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falling stars...
a moment shared
with my ex
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MCCV
Zhanna P. Rader
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A writer in love
with his invented heroine —
tears on the rose.
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| This is my 400th haiku in the Eros sequence. I am running out of steam. :) Zhanna |
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MCCVI
Hugh Bygott
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Wisps of hair,
so fragile yet so powerful . . .
a Spring wind claims my cheek.
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MCCVII
Cecelia Quentin-Webb
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First plum flowers —
Am I the fragile desired
as he unclasps my robe?
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October 17, 2009
Dear Subscribers
Perhaps some of you have thought that Eros had run its course. No, far from it! We have barely started finding out the subtleties of this universal topic of love and sexuality. From the beginning of the series in December 2006, the inspiration has been the great poetry of Chiyo-ni. Perhaps few of you have been to her beautiful museum in Matto, Japan. Perhaps even fewer have held in their hands Kaga no chiyo zenshû. These are treasures indeed! Of course, there are some English translations, and so her inspiration continues.
I encourage you to return to Chiyo-ni and to your own many experiences and contribute to reaching the next target of 2000 haiku. For new subscribers, please look at the Archive to see the many varied, and beautiful haiku.
http://haikuworkshop.pbwiki.com/ErosHaiku
Sincerely,
Hugh Bygott |
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MCCVIII
Hugh Bygott
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Rising winds,
a falling maple leaf rides high . . .
Oh, so like false love!
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MCCIX
Cecelia Quentin-Webb
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Broken silence . . .
at this moment of desire
I hear a nightingale . . .
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MCCX
Hugh Bygott
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Under lime leaves' shade
she sits with such composure,
but I, fragile with Love's wound . . .
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| With acknowledgement to the Silver English poets of the XVI Century. HB |
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MCCXI
Zhanna P. Rader
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The pink buds
get fuller each day...
as our date approaches.
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MCCXII
Cecelia Quentin-Webb
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First autumn winds —
How sad the petal-flecked grass . . .
those loves now past . . .
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MCCXIII
Zhanna P. Rader
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The wind chimes' sound
on this breezy evening —
thoughts of our love...
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MCCXIV
Cecelia Quentin-Webb
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Under new linden leaves,
his first kiss . . . the realisation . . .
our newer fate.
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MCCXV
Zhanna P. Rader
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The rosebud
opens up a little more —
his warm breath...
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MCCXVI
Cecelia Quentin-Webb
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Little tea-flowers,
how can you bear this autumn rain?
I too long for dusk.
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MCCXVII
Hugh Bygott
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Yet untouched,
this newest opening rose —
Oh chaste beauty!
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MCCXVIII
Cecelia Quentin-Webb
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Walking at ebbtide —
I lift my skirt to clear the gem-weed . . .
Did I see him blush?
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MCCXIX
Hugh Bygott
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Such a lady —
I glimpse her delicate ankle,
whiter than the lily.
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MCCXX
Cecelia Quentin-Webb
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I kiss his lips,
gently, as Spring gossomer . . .
Passion awaiting . . .
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MCCXXI
Hugh Bygott
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A wither'd leaf drifts,
clinging to a tangled web . . .
Yet once here was love . . .
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MCCXXII
Zhanna P. Rader
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His pencil, a stub,
and yet another haiku —
passion flowers.
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MCCXXIII
Cecelia Quentin-Webb
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The stone chat tilts its head . . .
but I cannot tell it the pleasures
of last night’s love.
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