Series of Haiku Poems

Stay with Me

by Xinhua

Here I am, a tree.

Colored leaves whistling by,

abandoning me.

I see my shadow

from this desolate hillside,

deserted it lies.

Here I am, now bare,

white fluff dancing around me,

slowly in the air.

Here I am, alone,

the white fluff has disappeared,

but there lies a seed.

One year passed, she grew,

my new friend who will stay here.

There stands two shadows.

Xinhua is a freshman.  She says, “There isn’t a certain time I started to like writing.  It was more of a gradual change.  I usually just free write to relieve emotions.  This series was about the sadness I felt when friends left me and when I could never really find that one true friend who would stay with me.”

A Clone in Sodden Shadow

by Sang

One who moves as two.
Swift motion of light and dark.

Brazen as shadow.

One follows, one leads.
One who moves, one imitates.

Footprint on footprint.

One wishes, one dreams.
One moves forward, one regrets.

Wish born twisted dream.

One laughs, one rolled eyes.

Brief moment of happiness.

However, still sad.

Opposite day, night.
Two by day, one by dark night.

Alone again, night.

Sang is a junior.  He says, “The day I learn how to fly is the day I lose my humanity, for humanity is ingenuity.  If I could fly, where would the fun be to explore where I could already see?”


by Jess

The crisp Autumn air,

A time of beautiful death,

awaiting new life.

The cold takes over.

The green leaves change their colors,

while Summer sleeps.

The chilling Fall breeze,

The calling of a black bird,

The rustle of leaves.

This grand time of year,

when the leaves litter the ground,

squirrels hard at work.

Winter will come soon,

the earth wrapped in a blanket,

soothing and pure white.

Until then, Fall reigns,

a sweet reminder of death

but life thereafter.

Jess is a senior.  She says, “In the struggle to find some type of repose, pen and paper have always been acquaintances of mine. I say ‘acquaintance’ in place of ‘friend’ because my relationship with writing is one of constant fluctuation. I either write vigorously, scribbling down every thought, or I never write, keeping whatever is dancing around my head locked up in a little cage. In the discovery of poetry, a tiny window into the heart of someone either suffering or celebrating, or simply discussing, I found a beautiful vacation from this strange little world.”


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