Blue Pen Haiku

A blue pen lays on my wooden desk.  Its soul is encased in transparent plastic shell.  The tube of thick blue ink is a pipeline for my creativity to flow onto the page.  Imprinting my words into immortal tales.  “What was it like to be human?”  Writing; a mighty force indeed.

Breath captured, by her.

Love rises in a white cloud.

My heart sings her name.

Fingers dance softly,

on lovers skin. Goosebumps.

Must I go to work?

Hot sweet  swirl.  Coffee.

Thick book. Crisp pages.  Author long gone.

As I read, he lives.

Dusty red stone path.

Blue sky.  Cold wind. Summer fades.

Mountain Man walking.

Rusty roof.  Dying old truck.

Young son.  Middle aged dad.

Memories are born.

Copyright © 2017 Zachary W. Gilbert

Morning Cup of Haiku

Gray clouds weep, rain falls.

Hot soups flavor, dancing taste soothes.

Glorious blanket.

Hot black coffee drink.

My face drinks the morning sun.

All downhill from here.

Snot streaks under his nose.

Toys thrown upon, everywhere.

2 year old finds joy.

Heart pumps wild red love.

My glorious inflated torture.

Pressure of a kiss.

Copyright © 2017 Zachary W. Gilbert