Announcing the 2120 West Haiku Contest!
Do you feel an unsatisfied poetic impulse? Do you see beauty in the small moments of life, and feel a hunger to communicate that beauty?
Do you have a remarkably short attention span? If the answers to the above questions are “yes” then haiku is the poetry form for you.
What’s a haiku you ask? The answer is here.
What I’m looking for is correct form, concrete imagery, no wasted words, and simple beauty. Spend some time on your entry, go through a draft or two, and when you think you’ve got something good, post it in the comment section below.
A panel of poetry experts (Sunset High School English teachers) will select a top three. The writers of those poems will earn everlasting glory, an undisclosed tangible prize, and the winners’ haiku will be permanently displayed in Mr. Lindsey’s room.
Of course, nothing is truly permanent, least of all, Mr. Lindsey’s portable.
Purple chipboard walls.
Thieves rip through the soft paper.
Like a Christmas gift.
I hope yours are all better than that one. The contest closes at midnight on January 15.
Beauty cast in stone
Coral on the ocean floor;
Bright frozen flowers.
Gave it my best shot Lindsey! feedback?
Blood stains are on the carpet
Dripped from the peach tree’s skull
Like a faucet
The fire burns deep
Never does it burn skin-deep
We must save free-thought!
i don’t know if it’s 5,7,5? inspired by Fahrenheit 451
Hanging from a tree
By life’s idiotic fate,
To mourn over his death.
Delete “his” in my last entry i miscounted
Beautiful nightmare,
left in darkness without light,
I fight deep inside.
Like darkness to light
so natural and so free,
time’s old tale repeats.
Not sure if this is at all correct, feedback please…
Never seen by waking eyes, Echoes fade and memories die,
Lingering onward dreamily as the days go by,
In a Wonderland they lie.
To long right?
It is a bit long, Jaime. Usually Haiku are five syllables on the first line, seven on the second, and then five again on the third. Also, Haiku is all about concrete imagery, few abstractions, and no wasted or redundant words.
Drunken with whiskey
With a blur and smudge vision
BOOM! a life is gone
Haiku
autumn springs with life
dreary, dull decaying though;
neighboring cold death
Like darkness to light
so natural and so free,
time’s old tale repeats.