The Haiku Foundation - per diem haiku

Australians have been featured on The Haiku Foundation across the month of December 2015. People interested might like to view the daily postings of per diem haiku, placed in random order after being selected from a larger body of work of Australian haiku.

warmer days . . .
balloon-vine tendrils twist
between the floorboards

- Barbara A Taylor

a field of wishes
blows away

- M L Grace

windy morning
my pavement shadow
has some crazy hair

- Alex McKeown

one drop
from the heron’s foot
splits open the sky

- Christina Kirkpatrick

swirling loops
in her letter
her voice

- Peter Macrow

fields of stubble
the sky thick
with stars

- Rob Scott

a stranger’s blood
on my hand

- Quendryth Young

flood debris
a doll’s limb
pale in the seaweed

- Lynette Arden

on a bare twig rain beads what light there is

- Lorin Ford

a quiet kind of love
autumn crocus

- Greg Piko

a sliver of moon
the old bluesman
breaks a string

- Ron C. Moss

shingle beach ...
trying out its third couple
a dog lost at dusk

- Rodney Williams

passing traffic
the flicker of bees
in grevillea

- Maureen Sexton

starless night—
pier lights disappear
into surf noise

- John Bird

afternoon beach
the young lovers cast
a single shadow

- Lyn Reeves

at the car park
as we say goodbye
a swirl of old papers

- Katherine Samuelowicz

no money for the busker I try not to listen

- Janice M. Bostok

of old tea roses…
faraway moon

- Dawn Bruce

early and late mourners
compare deaths

- Duncan Richardson

the silence both sides of
a kookaburra’s laugh

- Jan Dobb

on the coffin lid
our faces
in the clouds

- Jeffrey Harpeng

across sun
shower light a reckless
flash of parrots

- Jacqui Murray

after the parade
the dragon head off
still smoking

- Ross Clark

Anzac Day
a baby’s cry fills
our minute’s silence

- Beverley George

old wallpaper
my daughter reaches
for the butterfly

- Graham Nunn

a crab’s pincer wedged
in tangled roots

- Cynthia Rowe

the more a thing is thought about
the further it recedes

- Dhugal Lindsay

hung over—
the red eye
of the traffic light

- Matt Hetherington

barbed wire
a magpie teases out
a strand of wool

- Vanessa Proctor

five years on
and still I haven’t opened
mother’s suitcases

- John Knight

a clatter
of milking pails—
full winter moon

- David Terelinck