“A Few Haiku (38)”

(c) 2022 by Michael L. Utley

(#223)

sorrow begets joy
from the ashes of my soul
a columbine

…..

(#224)

what can harsh words rend
that kind words cannot assuage
the healing rain

…..

(#225)

under starless skies
my heart sings a silent dirge
night wind in the trees

…..

(#226)

my regrets are mine
my shame wears my haggard face
my soul weeps alone

…..

(#227)

vagaries of life
my heart’s buoyancy in doubt
on my soulless sea

…..

(#228)

what my heart demands
my mind cannot comprehend
and my soul rejects

40 thoughts on ““A Few Haiku (38)”

    1. Thanks so much, Daphny. It’s good to examine some deep feelings and make some sense out of life. I’m just fortunate I have a place like this community and readers like you who can appreciate my ramblings. Always a pleasure to receive your kind comments. πŸ™‚

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    1. Thanks, David. I definitely had a theme going today. I was so stressed from yesterday that I wanted to just relax and let some stuff flow. It feels good when it happens, even when the words are a bit saturnine. I appreciate your always supportive kindness. πŸ™‚

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    1. Many thanks. Oh, the imagery I had playing in my mind for #225 was so dark, yet really cool, too. I’ve always had an affinity for night breezes. Back in the day when I could hear well, I loved listening to the night wind in the trees. It held such mystery, like a foreign language being spoken. And the way the elms and scrub oak would reply with their nocturnal sighs… It was poetic even back then. Glad you liked it. πŸ™‚

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    1. Thank you, kind sir! I’m happy to know these spoke to you. It was good to be able to write, and they came rather easily, which is always a good sign. Much appreciated, my friend. πŸ™‚

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  1. Such melancholy in these, Mike. I read through the comments and agree that expressing our reactions to difficult days through poetry can feel cathartic or at least settling. They’re relatable to as so much of human experience is shared. I hope you have a brighter day ahead. I love your poetry – such power in so few words. Hugs.

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    1. Thanks, Diana. This means a lot to me. I’ve come to accept the fact that I’m just a melancholy dude and I’m going to write somber material, but that’s okay…as long as I’m able to write. It’s those periods when I’m blocked that worry me. I think being able to get this darker stuff out will make room for some more hopeful verse. And hey, the first two haiku in this collection are pretty hopeful, eh? πŸ™‚ Connecting more with nature always seems to bring out more hopeful feelings. I appreciate you and your wonderful support and encouragement. Thanks a bunch! πŸ™‚

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      1. Life’s such a mystery, isn’t it? It’s okay to be yourself, and I hope writing out the dark stuff makes plenty of room for light. Yes, nature grounds us and has a way of reminding us that we’re part of something spectacular. ❀

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    1. Thanks, Grace. I appreciate how you’re always–always–so kind and supportive. You’re such a positive influence in this community. Thanks so much. πŸ™‚

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    1. Thanks so much, Peggy. Sadness and loss seem to inspire me more than any other emotions. The whole bit about “writing what we know” applies here. But, it’s helpful, and I know these emotions are shared by everyone to one degree or another. If my poetry speaks to someone who’s feeling lost and in despair, perhaps they’ll realize they’re not alone, and that can make a world of difference and inspire hope along the way. I appreciate your wonderful comments and support. It means a lot to me. πŸ™‚

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    1. Thanks a bunch, Jeff. There’s a catharsis that occurs when I write this sort of thing, a relief to get it out into concrete form so I can deal with it more effectively. It’s no longer a chaotic morass in my mind, but simple words on a screen. It’s empowering to impose order on those thoughts, and writing and photography (and any other art forms) are ideal tools for the task. I always appreciate your wonderful support, good sir! Thanks again. πŸ™‚

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    1. Thank you kindly, Xenia. A “soulful series,” indeed! I referred to the soul in four of these pieces…I suppose I was in one of those moods. πŸ˜€ I’m happy you enjoyed these. Your feedback is so appreciated. πŸ™‚

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    1. Thanks, Aaysid. I agree–it’s oddly comforting in a weird way to read melancholy poetry, or maybe watch a sad movie or listen to a sorrowful song. Perhaps it’s recognition of the same emotions we feel being expressed by someone else and a sense of kinship. We’re all in this world together, and we all share so much more in common than what separates us. I do feel peace and comfort when I write this stuff. It helps me sort things out. It’s a bonus when my words resonate with someone else. I’m glad you liked these, and thanks so much for your always thoughtful insights. πŸ™‚

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    1. Thanks so much. This means a lot to me and really made my day when I read it. I was reminded of how life can thrive even in the aftermath of a horrible disaster (like a wild fire), and how perhaps there’s hope even where sorrow has left ruin in its wake. Columbines have a special meaning for me, and they remind me of how life is both tenuous and tenacious, brittle and beautiful, even in the ashes of my own soul. I really appreciate your kindness. πŸ™‚

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  2. my heart’s buoyancy in doubt
    on my soulless sea
    I loved this , one , though I liked all
    So true , how buoyancy is exceeded by the weight , if the sea recedes it’s inner strengthπŸ’•πŸ’•

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    1. Thanks, Reena. I had the image of my heart bobbing on a tumultuous sea. A heavy heart sinks easily below the waves, but it’s difficult to keep afloat when things turn dark and threatening. I’m glad you liked this one and I appreciate your kindness so much. πŸ™‚

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