Topic Tags:
0 Comments

Ten Haiku

Gary Hotham

May 01 2009

1 mins

plain darkness—

a firefly blinks with

the speed of light

drifting into grass—

a child’s bubble

the air didn’t burst

turning over shells—

one new wave

after the other

pigeons between parked cars—

the street named for

an old queen

return visit—

tall grass in my footsteps

doesn’t spring back

a wider view of the mountains—

Dad’s grave not far from

when he was born

steady morning wind—

lottery tickets on top

of the trash

lingering visit—

the hidden mountaintop

next time

visits end—

the mountain top only the host

has seen

near the museum—

children racing

the lawn sprinkler

Comments

Join the Conversation

Already a member?

What to read next

  • Letters: Authentic Art and the Disgrace of Wilgie Mia

    Madam: Archbishop Fisher (July-August 2024) does not resist the attacks on his church by the political, social or scientific atheists and those who insist on not being told what to do.

    Aug 29 2024

    6 mins

  • Aboriginal Culture is Young, Not Ancient

    To claim Aborigines have the world's oldest continuous culture is to misunderstand the meaning of culture, which continuously changes over time and location. For a culture not to change over time would be a reproach and certainly not a cause for celebration, for it would indicate that there had been no capacity to adapt. Clearly this has not been the case

    Aug 20 2024

    23 mins

  • Pennies for the Shark

    A friend and longtime supporter of Quadrant, Clive James sent us a poem in 2010, which we published in our December issue. Like the Taronga Park Aquarium he recalls in its 'mocked-up sandstone cave' it's not to be forgotten

    Aug 16 2024

    2 mins