Voted most likely
To fall just short of his goal
at Haiku High
Still he showed promise
Harvard Haiku took a chance
It got worse
Studied in Japan
Zen Monastery Master
still worse
The harder he tried
The more it all receded
Still
He would not give up
Wanting more becoming less
Psychotherapy
Mother always distant
Father’s unkind cuts
Still now losing blood
Binding now his wounds
Too late he fears
Smaller still his world
Circling
He puts down his pen
Walks
Sun sets on the wood
He is silent
Wind in leaves
Alone
then
A river ran here
Silent dark firs surround us
Still you can hear it
Throughout November I am writing a poem every day as part of an effort to raise funds for The Center For New Americans. If you like the poems (or even if you don’t) and would like to support this fantastic organization, please follow this link. Thanks.