Haiku-doodle-do . . .

I love haiku.  I’ve been keeping a haiku diary for a number of years now, so I thought: Why not have a cyberspace place where I can share my enthusiasm (if not my skill) with other closet (and out-of-the-closet and into-the-woods) haiku-ers? 

Actually, I’m coming to this party a little late.  Recent haiku sites have been launched on Twitter (i.e., Twaiku) as well as here.  In fact, one of them, The Haiku Diaries, written by Rachel Dickinson and Jenna Schnuer, was the inspiration for launching this site.  Hopefully, this blog will continue the haiku dialogue they started. 

How can you help?  Send me your haikus. . . .  If I like them, I’ll post them.  In the meantime, I’ll share some of my own–and more polished, venerable versions from real Haiku Masters–as the notion strikes.  Let the games (metered but not timed, nor necessarily rhymed) begin!  Happy haiku-ing. . . .   Maggie


Start each day with bright noise: Five-

Seven-Five.  A coup!



About Margaret Dornaus

I’m a writer and a teacher, as well as a haiku-doodler. I live in a beautiful woodland setting, surrounded by native oak forests, that inspires me to record haiku snapshots of luna moths and our resident roadrunner, and even an occasional black bear as it hightails it across the top of my road, my mongrel dog barking at its heels as I watch with wonder. My work as a travel writer has appeared in publications from The Dallas Morning News to the Robb Report. You can find examples of my travel writing–as well as excerpts from a travel memoir I’m working on–at my other WordPress site, Travelin’ On. What more than that do you need to know? Only that I started this blog with an eye toward collaboration. Got a haiku? Send it my way. . . . I’m all about new visions & voices. Best, Margaret
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4 Responses to Haiku-doodle-do . . .

  1. Welcome to the world
    baby haiku diary!
    Go on and have fun.

  2. Chef Larry says:

    My wife has just created

  3. Van K. Brock says:

    Margaret, sorry:
    all else should be more lovely,
    with stars, planets, moons.

    In this pyramid
    anti-haiku, invert haiku–
    children in death-camps,

    starved bodies, bloated,
    their eyes no longer seeing,
    record dim future:

    a naked mass (in
    a small room where showers jet
    gas) climbing itself;

    the air shrinks without
    scent, and the strong reach the top
    to suck at brass jets.

    The removed bodies,
    cleansed of vomit and feces,
    crumble into ash.

    This is mankind stripped,
    packed in a rush-hour subway,
    hurled through its own gut.

    POEMS: Anhinga Press.

  4. casey says:

    auntie over there
    so far down in the holler
    heard about your blog

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