More about Poems

I have a collection of poems I really like by other writers. While I was pulling some of them together I noticed a funny coincidence, that I am not sure really is a coincidence. As someone who watches the moon, charts the moon in my journals, and has a major art installation titled The Moon Project, I am naturally drawn to the many haiku written about the moon:

Listening to the moon
gazing at the croaking of frogs
in a field of ripe rice.


Calligraphy of geese
against the sky—
the moon seals it.


The moon tonight—
I even miss
Her grumbling


Moon, plum blossoms,
this, that,
and the day goes.



This haiku has a different subject:

When the winter chrysanthemums go,
there’s nothing to write about
but radishes.



And here’s a poem that makes me both laugh and cry. Do you think Karla Kuskin had read some of these haiku before she wrote this?

Write About a Radish. . .
by Karla Kuskin

Write about a radish
Too many people write about the moon.

The night is black
The stars are small and high
The clock unwinds its ever-ticking tune
Hills gleam dimly
Distant nighthawks cry.
A radish rises in the waiting sky.


PS–I am frustrated with the auto-formatting that I am unable to overcome. When I learn more about how to format these posts, I’ll clean them up to make it easier to read the poetry. And if anyone has suggestions about how to do it, I am all ears. Thanks!


PPS-Thanks to my nephew Jake Lloyd I have been able to format this post in a more sensible way. Still need to learn more about how to control the spacing.






About sallie wolf

I am a full-time artist, writer, and avid journal keeper. I am happily married to Chuck Wolf and we have two sons, now grown. I was born in Virginia, have spend as much time as possible in New Hampshire at my family's summer house, and have lived in the Chicago area for most of my adult life.
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