Late Night Haiku

K.HartlessNovember 17, 2021Haiku/Haibun, Poetry

Faded leaves shriveled
to grey on a park hillside
foretell winter’s crunch.

Bow of a ghost ship.
Passengers with missing limbs
shiver the timbers.

Fall lies defeated.
Leaves play dead in the gutters
fearing winds of change.

Published by K.Hartless

K.Hartless is a persistent poet and eclectic fiction writer. She’s been recently published in Luna Station Quarterly, The Last Girls Club, Edge of Humanity Magazine, Pure Haiku, and Spillwords. Her blog, Yardsale of Thoughts, blends fiction, poetry, music, and art to create new experiences for readers. View all posts by K.Hartless

9 Comments

johnlmalone says:

November 17, 2021 at 21: 18

I like these: the desolation of the first, the eeriness of the second, the playfulness of the third —

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1. K.Hartless says:
  
  November 17, 2021 at 21: 24
  
  Thank you, John. I must admit my daughter helped with the first one. She said, look mommy, the leaves are white as snow.
  
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  1. johnlmalone says:
    
    November 17, 2021 at 21: 28
    
    fresh are the yes of a child 🙂
    
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Jeff Flesch says:

November 18, 2021 at 00: 12

Three awesomely connected versus. Love it, K.

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Hobbo says:

November 18, 2021 at 04: 25

Love these. Shiver the timbers. LOL

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Ron. says:

November 18, 2021 at 08: 23

Haikulicious series, K. Thanks

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1. K.Hartless says:
  
  November 18, 2021 at 15: 25
  
  😊 Thanks, Ron.
  
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Little Charmer says:

November 18, 2021 at 15: 23

These really are great. I particularly like the last one 🖤🖤

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Michele Marsh says:

November 19, 2021 at 07: 28

Second verse very haunting

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