The unvoiced thoughts and ideas of a septegenarian.



            I recently asked my 14 year old grandson if he knew what a Haiku was.  He smiled and said:

          Haikus are easy

Sometime they don’t make sense.


           The Japanese are masters at this form of verse. Perhaps its structure appeals to their high regard for simplicity. I’m not a student of Haikus and know nothing about its origin or development but one day, disgusted with a novel I was working on, I decided to try to write one.  My first effort failed – so did the second.  It’s no easy trick to have an idea and express it in something like eight to twelve words, maintaining the required 5-7-5 syllabification.  It was such fun that I kept going until I finally had a few that, even if they won’t win any prizes, at least conform to the required structure. It’s especially challenging to write one where the last line is unexpected – rather like the punch line of a joke or hippotomus.

Chocolate chip pie

Whipped cream tempts and teases

Here is your fork eat.


Silver and candles

The table entices me

Dine converse relax.


The search for knowledge

Confusing, terrifying

A snake in the grass.


His voice a whisper

His gentle hands waterfalls

He smells of roses.


I open a book

Words of wisdom tumble out

Manna for my brain.


The world clothed in white

I hide from snow and cold wind

Hibernation mine.


Words whisper and flow

Arms tenderly enfold me

Treasures remembered.


I splash in the waves

Surf caresses and tickles

Fish, water lilies.


Lights flicker inside

Darkness tiptoes through windows

Peace serenity.


A road by a stream

Cool water ripples on rocks

Ducks, turtles and swans


A garden I seek

Smelling of lilacs in bloom

Buds on rose bushes


Challenge: write a Haiku.

Julie Rose


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          This verse is dedicated to all writers, whether of fiction or poetry, who struggle mightily to find the right words every time they sit down to write.   The right words don’t come swooping down, unbidden, and land just where a writer wants them on a page.  They play hide-and-seek; they elude the writer; they challenge him.  Only the best of writers can find them 100% of the time.

          Sometimes the writer depends on Webster or Roget to help him out. Sometime he searches for what others have had to say about his subject. Sometimes he tries half a dozen words before deciding which to use. And sometimes he crushes the paper into a ball, throws it into a wastebasket and goes for a walk or pours himself  healthy dose of Jack Daniels.   

          Despite their elusiveness writers happily face the challenge of ferreting the right words out of their corners. It’s a game writers must play. They’ve been roped in – there’s no choice, no escape.


In vain do I search for honeyed words;

Melodious, thoughtful, and warm.

Metaphors, similes, hidden from me.

If I try to write of hate and desertion

Rancor, and two-timing souls

I’ve nothing with which to compare.

Nor can I convey the feelings evoked

When writing of friendship and love.

Elusive the words that picture their spirit,

Fleeting, skybound, hidden in clouds.

Wispy are they to capture in prose or verse,

To write of a loved one, a worthy friend,

 a lesson learned, a truth uncovered.

A challenge to my leaky pen.

Yet can I write of trees and tulips,

Describe gardens in bloom,

Sand castles and sailboats.

Where are the words that evoke

smiles, delight, understanding

When I try to paint pictures of anger or peace?

I search long, dig deep, for words

That  do not betray my intent.

With envy, regret, I face the truth

No Shakespeare, Steinbeck,

Michener, Allende

Nor Plato  am I.


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Julie Rose


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