Length: 1400 words
Tense: present
POV: 1st
Well, today's story is um, haiku. I decided to be wacky and try to tell a story in a series of haiku. The sad thing is it took way too long and ended up (if you don't count the numbers) only being 1370 words. So it may look long, but it's actually one of my shorter posts. Sometimes, I'll admit, it's just random. I threw in a lot of poetic sounding filler to get to 100. But at least it tells a story, which is better than some past posts.
Quiet of the Night
1
Softly in the wind
Leaves drift gently from the trees,
Sighing for the world.
2
It is winter now,
And the old wood stove is cold.
I am home, alone.
3
In the night I dream:
Castles, dragons, palaces,
In a maiden’s arms.
4
Long ago I stepped
Lightly, on the worn road,
Footsteps with no sound.
5
Time is heavy now,
Like a cool, smooth river-rock
Settled on my chest.
6
I gaze out, beyond.
I see mountains, forests, paths,
I see children run.
7
Where is it we dwell
When the clear spring pond is dried
And the meadow bare?
8
She once had a name.
I do not remember it.
I knew her as Love.
9
Sunshine comes rarely,
All too bright and all too fast,
Blinding as it goes.
10
But the children play,
Laughing, singing, silently
Through my closed window.
11
A knock at the door:
The old postman, probably.
He will come and go.
12
No more do I read
Heartbreak on a lover’s face
Or her sympathy.
13
It is quiet now.
A lone cricket chirps outside.
Inside, it is dark.
14
Today is Monday.
Now the world will go to work
In its proper place.
15
A check in the mail.
See, what has the postman left
Other than lost dreams?
16
The children return
Later, when the school is out,
Freedom never dies.
17
I have travelled far
Through the minds and hearts of men.
Seldom out the door.
18
For, within, I smile,
Dream, perhaps, of plaintive song,
And a rosy dawn.
19
Now the sun again
Tips down in a crimson arc,
Sparkling in the trees.
20
Now the kids again
Run laughing, off to dinner
And their mothers’ arms.
21
Hear the cricket sigh.
Now I wonder what she sings
With slow, steady voice,
22
Love or grief or joy,
Valour, glory, awful might,
Or soft memory?
23
Still I lie, awake.
The moon rises, not yet full,
Paints me silver-blue.
24
Outside is the wind,
Soft, like a lover’s light sigh
On a trembling neck.
25
Now I step outside.
Darkness, rising up, meets me
Somewhere in the chest.
26
All the world asleep,
Through darkness, I prowl, alone,
Letting others be.
27
Silence is the song
Of a deep Winter midnight,
And the air I breathe.
28
All the flies are dead,
Bodies, scattered near the light
That has since died out.
29
Dan McGregor walks
Aimlessly, dragging a pole
Past silver windows.
30
He will pass me by.
No, he will not say a word
He can understand.
31
And others like us,
Softly, through the cool dark night,
With light steps they come.
32
Night, the park is dead:
Trees, dark pillars to the sky
And a cold blue bench.
33
Where we congregate
The earth knows not, and feels not,
And remembers not.
34
Not a word is said,
But silence, in the dark night,
And the silence flows.
35
Secrets, blowing now,
Calm and gentle, with the wind,
Vanishing above.
36
And questions, unasked,
Never answered, offered up
To the God of grief.
37
Silence is the key,
And fear, fear too, that drives us
In the vast outdoors.
38
Now I am alone.
The park empty, and the squirrels
Sleep in hollow trees.
39
I will stay awhile.
It is lighter in the east
But the moon is high.
40
Streetlamps shine, beyond,
And a light fog settles down,
Covering the scene.
41
Now songbirds twitter,
Up and early, soon the dawn
Will destroy the night.
42
But stay here an hour,
If your heart is not afraid
And your skin not cold.
43
Listen, to the song
Of memory, played above:
Visions of the stars.
44
And tell me, softly,
With a cool hand on my ear,
Whisper those chill words.
45
Now a car pulls up:
Early shift, somewhere up north
In the walls of steel.
46
But the silence lasts.
The fog ripples, but remains
Yellow in the lamps.
47
Now my heart erupts!
I should hide, and flee this world
Ere the magic dies.
48
But yet a moment
In the hustle of the world,
Still the birds will sing.
49
And I shift, again,
My back frozen to the steel
Bars of this blue bench.
50
Still the moonlight shines
Waning past the crests of hills,
But the stars are bright.
51
There is Venus, north,
Yellow flicker, from faroff
Warm and ghostly light,
52
And the stars beyond,
Each another world out there,
And its own story.
53
Then another car,
Revving, engine spurts, but still
Tyres grind the road.
54
I hear an alarm
Beeping gently, behind me
In a cold white house.
55
There are voices now.
I hear them, through the silence
And the depth of fog.
56
Now there are figures
Moving, black shapes, silhouettes
Of ghosts and monsters.
57
And the east erupts!
Molten golden fire flows
Downward from the hills.
58
Still I keep my back
Plastered to the steel, now warm
With my heart’s fast beat.
59
Voices, now they rise:
“Jeff, now have you packed your lunch?”
“Yes, ma,” “Good, be off.”
60
And the birds, alive,
Bristle with the coming dawn,
Sing in rapturous joy!
61
Silently below
I wait, think, feel, remember,
Love and mourn and sigh.
62
She used to come here,
Young Tyler, around her neck
Laughing in his joy.
63
I can see them now.
Ghosts, through shadows of the fog
Where the lights don’t shine.
64
There she is, again,
In the corners of a life
Where memory dies.
65
I am now afraid.
People, nameless, walk past me,
Faces never turn.
66
And the sky is pink,
A soft blue through wisps of cloud,
And the sun alive.
67
Where is my soft bed,
My house, pictures, and the songs
Of my musicbox?
68
Why did I go out
On a mad errand of love
And not stay alone?
69
Man’s heart makes a fool,
And yet, without its steady beat,
Man would surely die.
70
It is morning now.
I am homeless, stranded here,
Watching strangers pass.
71
Will I see her now?
Will she glide into the park
Softly, on the air?
72
There! No, but a ghost,
Wishing of a frantic mind
That not all is lost.
73
But there, Tyler’s voice
Like silver bells on windchimes
Sounds through golden air!
74
And I see her hand
Surely, through a glimpse of fog
Before whiteness falls.
75
Now I cannot move.
Is my life hereon fulfilled,
Or is it empty?
76
Still the strangers pass.
The world is cold and heavy.
I cannot get up.
77
Maybe she saw me,
Waiting, on this cold hard bench,
And she dared not come.
78
I wait. The day passes.
All around, men with purpose
Scuttle busily.
79
Still I am alone.
No one looks, or turns to speak
To the frozen man.
80
The birds have gone off.
Maybe they seek lost lovers
To return tonight.
81
And the crickets chirp
Soft songs of a thousand years
Of life, love, and loss.
82
Now the streetlamps shine,
Glowing, through a sea of fog
Golden in the light.
86
Now the trees are dark.
Bitter wind through bare branches,
Silence in the cold.
84
Footsteps, lightly trod:
Dan McGregor, with his pole
Stops and stares a while.
85
Then the crickets sing
Hard, unspoken melodies
To unhearing ears.
86
The pole hits the grass.
Warm hands along frozen back,
Silently arise.
87
Weary is the frame
Battered with a sea of wind
But by love upheld.
88
The birdsong has died
And the moon shines, not yet full,
Silver on the grass.
89
Now the escorts pass
Through the ignorance of night,
Side by side, alone.
90
Blue and silver streets,
Long and winding to nowhere,
Heed no one pass by
91
In the stealth of night
No words pass from weary lips
To disturb the peace.
92
Hear, the sprinklers on,
Wash off the last of Winter
And the first of Spring.
93
And the night-owl calls,
Challenging the passersby,
But no answer comes.
94
Now the hills are dark.
Now children in pyjamas
Lie asleep in homes.
95
And the image fades,
Relic of forgetful night
Lost amid the dark.
96
Here, this is the house.
An old man, stunted and stunned,
At the doorstep, go.
97
Here, this is the key
Pulled from a bitter pocket.
Here, it fits the lock.
98
Here, the house is dark.
Here, now enter the silence.
Hear memory roar.
99
Then the ghost is gone
Pole dragging to faroff world
In a realm alone
100
Lay upon the bed.
Sleep take you, and dreams that come
Haunted through the night.
1
Softly in the wind
Leaves drift gently from the trees,
Sighing for the world.
2
It is winter now,
And the old wood stove is cold.
I am home, alone.
3
In the night I dream:
Castles, dragons, palaces,
In a maiden’s arms.
4
Long ago I stepped
Lightly, on the worn road,
Footsteps with no sound.
5
Time is heavy now,
Like a cool, smooth river-rock
Settled on my chest.
6
I gaze out, beyond.
I see mountains, forests, paths,
I see children run.
7
Where is it we dwell
When the clear spring pond is dried
And the meadow bare?
8
She once had a name.
I do not remember it.
I knew her as Love.
9
Sunshine comes rarely,
All too bright and all too fast,
Blinding as it goes.
10
But the children play,
Laughing, singing, silently
Through my closed window.
11
A knock at the door:
The old postman, probably.
He will come and go.
12
No more do I read
Heartbreak on a lover’s face
Or her sympathy.
13
It is quiet now.
A lone cricket chirps outside.
Inside, it is dark.
14
Today is Monday.
Now the world will go to work
In its proper place.
15
A check in the mail.
See, what has the postman left
Other than lost dreams?
16
The children return
Later, when the school is out,
Freedom never dies.
17
I have travelled far
Through the minds and hearts of men.
Seldom out the door.
18
For, within, I smile,
Dream, perhaps, of plaintive song,
And a rosy dawn.
19
Now the sun again
Tips down in a crimson arc,
Sparkling in the trees.
20
Now the kids again
Run laughing, off to dinner
And their mothers’ arms.
21
Hear the cricket sigh.
Now I wonder what she sings
With slow, steady voice,
22
Love or grief or joy,
Valour, glory, awful might,
Or soft memory?
23
Still I lie, awake.
The moon rises, not yet full,
Paints me silver-blue.
24
Outside is the wind,
Soft, like a lover’s light sigh
On a trembling neck.
25
Now I step outside.
Darkness, rising up, meets me
Somewhere in the chest.
26
All the world asleep,
Through darkness, I prowl, alone,
Letting others be.
27
Silence is the song
Of a deep Winter midnight,
And the air I breathe.
28
All the flies are dead,
Bodies, scattered near the light
That has since died out.
29
Dan McGregor walks
Aimlessly, dragging a pole
Past silver windows.
30
He will pass me by.
No, he will not say a word
He can understand.
31
And others like us,
Softly, through the cool dark night,
With light steps they come.
32
Night, the park is dead:
Trees, dark pillars to the sky
And a cold blue bench.
33
Where we congregate
The earth knows not, and feels not,
And remembers not.
34
Not a word is said,
But silence, in the dark night,
And the silence flows.
35
Secrets, blowing now,
Calm and gentle, with the wind,
Vanishing above.
36
And questions, unasked,
Never answered, offered up
To the God of grief.
37
Silence is the key,
And fear, fear too, that drives us
In the vast outdoors.
38
Now I am alone.
The park empty, and the squirrels
Sleep in hollow trees.
39
I will stay awhile.
It is lighter in the east
But the moon is high.
40
Streetlamps shine, beyond,
And a light fog settles down,
Covering the scene.
41
Now songbirds twitter,
Up and early, soon the dawn
Will destroy the night.
42
But stay here an hour,
If your heart is not afraid
And your skin not cold.
43
Listen, to the song
Of memory, played above:
Visions of the stars.
44
And tell me, softly,
With a cool hand on my ear,
Whisper those chill words.
45
Now a car pulls up:
Early shift, somewhere up north
In the walls of steel.
46
But the silence lasts.
The fog ripples, but remains
Yellow in the lamps.
47
Now my heart erupts!
I should hide, and flee this world
Ere the magic dies.
48
But yet a moment
In the hustle of the world,
Still the birds will sing.
49
And I shift, again,
My back frozen to the steel
Bars of this blue bench.
50
Still the moonlight shines
Waning past the crests of hills,
But the stars are bright.
51
There is Venus, north,
Yellow flicker, from faroff
Warm and ghostly light,
52
And the stars beyond,
Each another world out there,
And its own story.
53
Then another car,
Revving, engine spurts, but still
Tyres grind the road.
54
I hear an alarm
Beeping gently, behind me
In a cold white house.
55
There are voices now.
I hear them, through the silence
And the depth of fog.
56
Now there are figures
Moving, black shapes, silhouettes
Of ghosts and monsters.
57
And the east erupts!
Molten golden fire flows
Downward from the hills.
58
Still I keep my back
Plastered to the steel, now warm
With my heart’s fast beat.
59
Voices, now they rise:
“Jeff, now have you packed your lunch?”
“Yes, ma,” “Good, be off.”
60
And the birds, alive,
Bristle with the coming dawn,
Sing in rapturous joy!
61
Silently below
I wait, think, feel, remember,
Love and mourn and sigh.
62
She used to come here,
Young Tyler, around her neck
Laughing in his joy.
63
I can see them now.
Ghosts, through shadows of the fog
Where the lights don’t shine.
64
There she is, again,
In the corners of a life
Where memory dies.
65
I am now afraid.
People, nameless, walk past me,
Faces never turn.
66
And the sky is pink,
A soft blue through wisps of cloud,
And the sun alive.
67
Where is my soft bed,
My house, pictures, and the songs
Of my musicbox?
68
Why did I go out
On a mad errand of love
And not stay alone?
69
Man’s heart makes a fool,
And yet, without its steady beat,
Man would surely die.
70
It is morning now.
I am homeless, stranded here,
Watching strangers pass.
71
Will I see her now?
Will she glide into the park
Softly, on the air?
72
There! No, but a ghost,
Wishing of a frantic mind
That not all is lost.
73
But there, Tyler’s voice
Like silver bells on windchimes
Sounds through golden air!
74
And I see her hand
Surely, through a glimpse of fog
Before whiteness falls.
75
Now I cannot move.
Is my life hereon fulfilled,
Or is it empty?
76
Still the strangers pass.
The world is cold and heavy.
I cannot get up.
77
Maybe she saw me,
Waiting, on this cold hard bench,
And she dared not come.
78
I wait. The day passes.
All around, men with purpose
Scuttle busily.
79
Still I am alone.
No one looks, or turns to speak
To the frozen man.
80
The birds have gone off.
Maybe they seek lost lovers
To return tonight.
81
And the crickets chirp
Soft songs of a thousand years
Of life, love, and loss.
82
Now the streetlamps shine,
Glowing, through a sea of fog
Golden in the light.
86
Now the trees are dark.
Bitter wind through bare branches,
Silence in the cold.
84
Footsteps, lightly trod:
Dan McGregor, with his pole
Stops and stares a while.
85
Then the crickets sing
Hard, unspoken melodies
To unhearing ears.
86
The pole hits the grass.
Warm hands along frozen back,
Silently arise.
87
Weary is the frame
Battered with a sea of wind
But by love upheld.
88
The birdsong has died
And the moon shines, not yet full,
Silver on the grass.
89
Now the escorts pass
Through the ignorance of night,
Side by side, alone.
90
Blue and silver streets,
Long and winding to nowhere,
Heed no one pass by
91
In the stealth of night
No words pass from weary lips
To disturb the peace.
92
Hear, the sprinklers on,
Wash off the last of Winter
And the first of Spring.
93
And the night-owl calls,
Challenging the passersby,
But no answer comes.
94
Now the hills are dark.
Now children in pyjamas
Lie asleep in homes.
95
And the image fades,
Relic of forgetful night
Lost amid the dark.
96
Here, this is the house.
An old man, stunted and stunned,
At the doorstep, go.
97
Here, this is the key
Pulled from a bitter pocket.
Here, it fits the lock.
98
Here, the house is dark.
Here, now enter the silence.
Hear memory roar.
99
Then the ghost is gone
Pole dragging to faroff world
In a realm alone
100
Lay upon the bed.
Sleep take you, and dreams that come
Haunted through the night.
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