Haiku are, at least for me, the means by which progress can be measured.

Things are looking pretty good right now.


Last Gasp

Perhaps the point reached;
old degrading: allow peace
space within your heart.

Ignore constant beat
marching time: this future hewn
with past’s storm-felled boughs.

A fatal, last gasp
Summer’s passing: arrivals
falling into place.

Decomposing fault,
brittle crackle: time to wait
for Spring’s renewal.

All soon forgotten,
season’s change: redefining
our shared existence.



Written by Internet of Words

Published Writer, 53-ish / Still European / Trauma Survivor / Photos / Exercise / Bisexual / Chaotic Good / HUMAN SPORK / Mental Health / Daily Twitter Short Story / @ProperBard in Residence, My House / Shortlisted & Published Author / Original poems/fiction © IoW 2020