English, a foreign mistress,
gives me misty eyes
as I write in anguish.
I, a word apprentice,
thwarted by time's passing,
pine to be a poet.
Words, lost in translation,
are empty spaces in between,
as I compose my poem.
February, 2009 issue of Word Catalyst
A Room of My Own: Hum of Summer Clouds Haiku
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rippling sunshine
a hum of summer clouds
in the mountain stream
FYI: It might be interesting to do a comparison reading of my haiku below:
the sky dapple...
