January 28, 2013

Haiga 1020 - winter sketch 6

I walk in the field and look for withered grass that could be used for my artwork. When I return, my pants usually catch or maybe been caught by grass seeds. That is how they distribute the seeds. But the ones on my pants are unfortunate, for they all fell on the hard tile floor rather than on the dirt ground so they can begin new lives. Too bad.


Alenka said...

old typewriter
on the tape the imprints
of my father's soul


father's poetry
his old typewriter the gift
for a psychiatrist

jennyj said...

beautiful description of your father's typewriter ribbon as the depository of his soul!

kuni_san said...

Moving haiku. It's really interesting that my haiga triggered your writing these poems.