Haiku Poems About Grief | Grief Haiku Poems

Haiku poems about Grief and Grief haiku poems. Read and enjoy these haikus! See also Grief Quotes.

Climb high these mountains
And meet cliffs of history
Snug against the moon

Cold lover's warm kiss
Caress each syllable of song
Love makes joy exist
 
Adirondacks mist
The milk of mothering trees 
Melted on morning's joy

Tongue lark the dark lakes
Water births of memory
Ego ice thin here 

The nation's blood lens
The red moon night, so pride stakes
Claim to fluid truth
  
The wind prowls the skin
Stirring leaves of memories
A breast dried of peace  

Algonquian trail
Footsteps eat the span of trees
Man is small in grief

The muskets torment
Fusion of mission and right
The north shrikes lament

And beg migrants gone
But wax wing they shun the sun
Bunting snow for life.

Old Mohawk glory
Gone when forest bare shivers
In castles of ice

Steel teeth scrape the rocks
And eat iron from the ore
Of greed, killing trees

Logging the green tongue
Of the sun's wealth of heat
For this new kingdom

Of civilized men
Performing barbaric feats
Distant from the den.

Dusk the Gilded Age
Of rage.like natives, all past
Diseased to the eye

A new dawn breaks song
And howls of joy claim again
The blessings of rain

Sceptered in the throat
Cities' diamonds of dew
Love of warblers note.

Love is eagle's joy
Climbing high against the breast
Peaking in delight.

  Screams above the din

A moment of grief and loss

    A loved one passes

                                         A heart
                            learning language of love
                                    but also grief

                                       The grief
                            learning heart to go uphill
                                    death is heavy











20.10.2012
A-L  Andresen :)

     The Fox:

1 the blare of the horn
     snooty hooves of  fire red coats...
     panting for my life

2 briar rabbit ears
     twisting in my angry grip...
     more tall tales are told

3 a hen in my mouth
     a farmer without his gun...
     life can be so good

     The Wolf:

1 silver sinews coil
     full moon permits me to speak...
     shivers for all men

2 my proud bloody coat
     clings to young Navaho skin...
     tales of my demise

3 the grind of tractors
     growl grief to my amber eyes...
     leave my land alone

     The Coyote:

1 mangy vermin shriek
     pelts darken with scarlet smear...
     ranchers open fire

2 mere morsels to munch
     lupine snap shears of warning...
     always last in line

3 roy rodgers singing
     cactus cattle and trail dust...
     my chorus off key 

Emotions wet trail
Of laughter or grief, often
A mixture of both.

Today im not sad
Im in the next stage of grief
Today im angry

Death creeps quietly in
often taking by surprise
one last gasp of air

leaving behind pain
sadness, sorrow and such loss
emptiness of heart

days pass by in grief
each becomes full of torment
as one struggles on

no light just darkness
no end is yet to be found
time they say will heal

for them left behind
no peace, just grief smothering
icy heart with blackness

written 9/16/2013

contest Grief

	
	
	Melancholy
	
	rainy season 
	grief, white hydrangeas 
	hungry caterpillar


	A haikuette for “Haiku Wannabees”

	
	rainy season 
	grief, white hydrangeas 
	hungry caterpillar



In part, The Haiku Society of America’s definition of a haiku reads, “Usually a haiku in English is written in three unrhymed lines of seventeen or fewer syllables.” Further, Japanese scholar Shigehisa Kuriyama states, “The 5-7-5 pattern by itself does not make a haiku.” (Gurga, p1)Contemporary English language haiku have departed radically from the 5-7-5 convention, including the Beat haiku of Jack Kerouac, Allen Ginsberg, and Gary Snyder, the latter awarded the Masaoka Shiki International Haiku Grand Prize in 2004The haiku of Robert Spiess are especially experimental.

I recommend two sources for further study of haiku: “Haiku: A Poet’s Guide,” by Lee Gurga, addresses haiku in it’s traditional form; “Haiku Poetics in Twentieth-Century Avant-Garde Poetry,” by Jeffery Johnson discusses haiku as realized by modernist poets 

Speaking personally, it is most important for me to enjoy writing a haiku, correct form or not, and for my haiku to be enjoyed by the reader.

My shoulders are tired
of carrying so much grief
from a long hard week..

One more poem, Lord
Let my heart diffuse in words
Candle wax of love

One more drain of grief
The songs that make children smile
Flower spoilt by fruit

One more gift of grace
To fence death in coming night
In eternal song

And much more for love
The moth upon flame ignites
The wonder of eyes

One more poem, I
Darkness of universe, light
Saints on pilgrim shores

Give me heart to write
Upon bright in drops of dew
I quench sun's thirst too

Oh gentle spirit
Set loose from life’s pain and grief
Flee to the heavens

Don't know how to speak
To you get my point across
Calm & soft don't work

Maybe in the past
"Itching" & screaming got thru
To you now other

Ways are much too quiet
Perhaps you need to be slapped
A bit to get it

We're alike that way
Care not to be corrected
No matter the path

Disturbing to be
Wrong, off, bad, out of the loop
Don't like it one bit

If ugly screaming
Is what it takes I fear I'm
Not your gal at all

Help me to help you
Without any grief 'cause things
Change most everyday

                                                       Winter Alone

                                                        searing grief
                                               exhaled lone eagles' mate
                                                        mourning loss

                                                   grey mountain
                                               grim ageless listener
                                                   pain absorbed

                                                      dawn calling
                                               sun-- healing reaches 
                                                      heavy wings


v anderson-throop

The silent news spoke
Nothing of my grief, the fire
Came after the smoke

Children, grandchildren
Were'nt lollipops of the flames
Choking on prayers

The serpent's eyes red
Looked, and from our fortress fled
Staining just one room

With the ash of sin
Investment here of its doom
Without rain or tears

Throw the old things out
 Burnt furniture, wet clothes scarred
With water and dirt

Human life is more
Than grief can measure in loss
This, yet we endure

Carol, dear, and John
Give Candice my love's regard
We shall build again

The phoenix in us
Resist the yearning in dust
To fracture our trust

We rise, and we rise
The spark above leaping fire
Death is love disguised,

The balm of the skies
We believe and do not need
The germ in the seed.

Let old visions die
Frail vanity now disposed
Fresh faith from it grows

For in this despair
Our safety meant God is here
Life is only grace.

Lady Mantle's grief

like morning dew drops 
her transparent healing tears
display so clearly 

@ Ellie Daphne

                                       THE VERMILLION LOSS

                                                 vermillion
                                      sun rise pants for new day
                                               clouds dally

                                                    grief
                                           wears dry eyes
                                                 stunned

                                           blue hour blues
                                  Dusk weeps for each lost sun
                                            midnight dreams

                                                 vermillion
                                     sun rise pants for new day
                                              clouds dally….



on the loss of my mother

The sea is melting
The water level rises
To the eyes as tears

Even in earthquake
There is no wave in that lake
Grief numbs a man's heart

Birds taste their voices
The air clamours with fresh songs
He knows it is spring

The sun melts the mount
The river strangles silence
A vision of peace 

Lamenting Blossom

Shed not tears of grief.
Light forestalls your requiem.
Glorifying life.

© Dane Smith-Johnsen
April 18, 2010

In congested homes of slums
The poor people live –
No one listens to their grief! 

O Father Of Mercy
Wash out this grief you shower
Over me and the land,

Ring out the spirit
And Saturday our love's weeks
Like light through locked twigs,

Beyond the puddled boy
Crying in vain for solace
Sung all about him

With worried weather,
Arise in your emptiness
Head-high like the sun.

Stars are for darkness.
May each night blanket blessings
Down Heart's corridor

And the floors of joy
Shift shapelessly through lives
Like mud on apples

In a woven dreamland,
Floating as God's single thought,
Making rich your harmony

As the cross flies off
And the Bible loads squirt guns
And "grace" replaces "debt"

Replaces tongue and
Speech in swirling compassion
Viewed from your own chair

You made from pictures
And lightbulbs and fake noses
And dusty open cheer

Up! The baby smiles
Your world of grief has shattered.
Light has pierced the dark.

I wrote my poems
with my heart
I strolled abroad
With my manuscripts,
drew my expectations
into my drawings
The avalanche of suffering
crushes me

I put years
on my back,
stored secrets
in my memory
Often I could not end
trips..

I was annoyed
by the hypocritical
before my eyes
The mothers gave birth
to tears
The orphans and the forlorn
distributed grief

I wrote my poems
with my heart
I strolled abroad
With my manuscripts,
drew my expectations
into my drawings
The avalanche of suffering
crushes me.

Üzeyir Lokman ÇAYCI 
Rueil Malmaison – 10.12.2005 
Traduit par by Yakup YURT en français
French free verse translated into English free verse
by Joneve McCormick, 22.02.2006

It has flown to me.

And it has given me grief.

It was your sad smile.

This morning I woke
With a tear in my heart, I
Brushed it away late

I went outside, found
There tears on the morning grass
My child called it dew

I saw through both, one
Reality for our sorrow
Broken shines like dew

So my tears lingered
Long until the sun came up
And drank dry my cup

But left memory
Like a leaf to store its kiss
Beside budding grief.

5 Haikus! Hope this one's a "delightful" treat!: 

Gracious evermore
Thinking of you – a delight!
Your spirits take wing

Shine on, you light bulb!
Thinking of you – a blessing! 
Grow, dear beloved!! (Let your light shine on us all)

I place daffodils
On your tombstone cheerfully 
Vibes crawl down my spine 

Sleep well, my angel
Thinking that you’re a prized gift!
You’re a blissful bloom

Precious as ever,
Thinking of you brings back tears – 
Tears of joy and grief

Streamers of grief run
Fly free from innermost lands
Spawn of pain from man.


(January 10, 2011  Wausau, Wisconsin)


(c) Copyright 2011 by Christine A Kysely, All Rights Reserved

My Saint John flow on
Through forest, marsh and town's spread
Tablecloth of stars

Conquistadors gone
The blue herons walk alone
In moonlight's silence

River and lone night
Memory is a wind's hope
Rustling swamps for gold

Let us keep our thoughts
In slow meandering lakes
The salt sea invites

Less Timucuan
Waken find us new remnants
In Ferdinand's dream

Love wilts in salt tears
The heart snakes the bush of grief
Tense as beauty stares.

Waleka, Rio
De Corrientes, Rio
De San Juan, the same

A gaudy green thrill
Peace sanctuary of births
Life from life flowing

Still at Sawgrass breast,
The Seminole blood of strength
I from Afric's tent

We the better ore
Than gleaming figment of fort
Lovers on this shore

Sea abandoned child
Scarred and aching love consoles
Tributary feasts.

O otters swim deep
Beneath the currents I weep
But a shrimp of tear

What is gone is gone
The sun makes still day's new dawn
Oceans carry on

Ships cargo joy fresh
As pines from which warblers sing
Magics of today.

My Saint John flow on
O'er fertile grounds of sweet love
Blooming moonlight still.

New buds breaking bring
           The bees to flowers nipple
           Spring feels love's sweet sting

                            Cool winds sweep dead leaves
                            Frolicking to shallow graves
                            Grass caress my feet

           New tornados come
           Galloping through the gray clouds
           Apathy is dead.

                           The sun awakens
                           To drink the dews of dark night
                           Lizards seek fresh shade

           Flies can hear my hand
           Before the thunder breaks grief
           Freedom comes with wings

Balcony moods
Morning offering;
Song of bird duo


By the yard edge
Bird frolic twitter;
A cheery quartet


Song fills dawn
Sunlight slants;
Window view sparkles


Last night's rain
Wet grounds betray;
Uneven footsteps traced


Joy after sorrow
Traces of old grief;
Ushered out abruptly


Old sepia memories
Silver nitrate etchings;
Old time photography


Haunting faces preside
Mother and father;
Yesterday's courtesy


Today flings
Doors wide open;
Strangers in paradise


Prayers on altars
Everywhere we go;
Living burying the dead


Can you hear
Sounds of old strains;
Voices calling in echoes


This life we live
Takes sterner stuff;
Hope feeds effort


Do you notice
A common melody;
Swirling time after time


Mundane routines
Calls time for after shocks;
Trauma feeds norm


When I listen
Do I hear
Sounds in the silence


Trip to market
Buy and sell;
Barter for things


Hate is fear exposed
Let love attend trade;
Poverty lives painful hatred


Look up and see
Dawn in a flash;
Insight reveals truth


Leon Enriquez
15 July 2014
Singapore