Writing Haiku is Hard, I’ve Heard

So I wrote 15 of them in like an hour

Photo by Galen Crout on Unsplash

A haiku in wings
drizzles light like ghost feathers,
pretentious poem.

Every third grader
learns the rules to write haiku,
warm socks feel the best.

I fell asleep
writing this haiku about nothing,
genius poet.

So much energy
expended toward nothingness,
the future unknown.

The universe yawns,
baby bird hungry for worms,
my body is food.

Fifteen seconds was
all I spent on these thoughts,
immeasurable depth.

Something about this
sharing of lives online
trivializes existence.

Pressure builds
behind make-believe walls,
exhale.

I ask the night
why trees seem hungry to taste the wind,
cold susurrus.