Sarah is a British eccentric who writes offbeat fiction, haiku and tanka poetry. When stuck for words, she sketches or paints instead. She's into nature conservation, sustainability, gardening, dogs, natural health, and reading. Her sociability is something that happens in short bursts with long breathing spaces in between.
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4 thoughts on “A mist haiku trilogy”
I think my favourite haiku is the one in the centre.
I like this trilogy. There is a logical cyclical progression and connection. On a stand-alone basis, I like the second one best, but that’s purely subjective. I don’t usually like haiku put together to make a longer poem (a “haiku” being a “short poem”, and myself turning into a grumpy, snarling old lady) but I do like this series.
I write stand alone haiku, too. Whilst meditating on them, it depends whether my stream of consciousness ends after one, or passes under many bridges. I usually compose them in my head whilst walking the dog — there’s something about the combination of fresh air and movement that assists my creativity. I also learn words to songs whilst walking.
You might be interested to take a look at an earlier post of mine — ‘Visual Interpretation of haiku (1)’ that’s part of a multimedia project I’m doing with an artist, which will be in an exhibition in April. I’m pointing you towards this particular illustrated haiku, as it is about a dying tree I love that I haven’t the heart to cut down. I thought, as a fellow tree-lover, you would appreciate the sentiment.
Sarah Potter Writes 
I think my favourite haiku is the one in the centre.
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Liked the fist very much 🙂
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I like this trilogy. There is a logical cyclical progression and connection. On a stand-alone basis, I like the second one best, but that’s purely subjective. I don’t usually like haiku put together to make a longer poem (a “haiku” being a “short poem”, and myself turning into a grumpy, snarling old lady) but I do like this series.
LikeLike
I write stand alone haiku, too. Whilst meditating on them, it depends whether my stream of consciousness ends after one, or passes under many bridges. I usually compose them in my head whilst walking the dog — there’s something about the combination of fresh air and movement that assists my creativity. I also learn words to songs whilst walking.
You might be interested to take a look at an earlier post of mine — ‘Visual Interpretation of haiku (1)’ that’s part of a multimedia project I’m doing with an artist, which will be in an exhibition in April. I’m pointing you towards this particular illustrated haiku, as it is about a dying tree I love that I haven’t the heart to cut down. I thought, as a fellow tree-lover, you would appreciate the sentiment.
LikeLike