The Pentrace Spring Haiku Competition
by Pentrace Readers
  Article # 299 Article Type: Competition

Snow's glitter melts away.
The soft earth drinks the sparkle.
Winter is absorbed.

A chirping birdsong.
Soft, cool air and budding trees.
The Spring has arrived.

As the sun shines down
A sky-blue crocus peeks out.
And discovers Spring.

Old Man Winter yawns.
He prepares for a long nap
And wakes the flowers.

Frost falls in shadows,
A memory of cold winds,
Birds dance in sunlight.

Buds break through cold earth,
Winter rapidly flies north,
As warm rays descend.

Rivers stormy froth,
Warm breezes gather cool rain,
Sultry nights breath in.

Gay smiles greet the rains,
Fecund and earthy runoff,
Life cycles begin.

Red wine rich and cool,
A blanket lies by a stream,
Life begins anew.

Blossom buds open
and soon fall to the garden
Spring Ceremony

Latest pen in hand
Stroking the glossy new plant leaf
Green Conway Stewart

Balmy Spring morning
Glancing at the cloudless sky
Lake Placid Blue ink

Parcel opening
Reading Cheryl's last letter
While holding her pen

My deceased friend's pen
Ink dripping from the dipped nib
Tears filling my eyes

Aquarium fish
Comparing their colours to pens
I hold in my hands

Transcience in life:
Blossoms open, gleam then fall;
Ink glistens then dries.

My daughter loves Spring,
She loves how blossoms appear
From her Sailor nib.

A shatter of black,
Like fallen blossom petals;
Damn precious resin!

Bright cherry blossoms
Finally find permanence
In dark urushi.

Those tiny new leaves:
More like spearmint than sherwood,
and the blossoms, plum.

broken ground reveals
with love only mothers know
chutes stretch and welcome

ink stained fingers passed
new breath inhaled adorns time
innocence begins

aphrodisiac
a single moment is life
intoxicated

simple notes carried
bells and flutes; sincere concord
dreams like temptation

~konpukuji haiku~
spring rainy season
cocoons in the characters
on buson's gravestone

I wrote a letter
I got a letter back and
I wrote a letter

To prime the pen, you
Lick the nib. Welcome to the
Scary tongue brigade.

I can't find my pen.
My heart turns black. The other
Pens are not that pen.

Smoothest paper calls
Golden nib, rich floods of ink.
Words dressed in their best.

Hey, kids. Santa reads
All the letters written with
Fountain pens first.

Buds swell as drop-by-
drop snow-melt wakes dormant streams.
Pregnant nature waits.

Waking in darkness
a seed stretches thin green limbs
reaching for the sun.

turning the piston
ink rising in the barrel
fecund with ideas

snow melting, running
down the hills, bold strokes upon
god's stationery

the colors of ink
upon my pages are the
hues of spring flowers

the sound of squirrels
in the trees, like the gentle
scratch of my pen's nib

i trade my blue-black
ink for green, or gold; colors
to match the new leaves

A haiku contest
Ink flows from our fountain pens
Write many more lines

Spring season is here.
What pens will come out to play?
Bright colors are nice.

Spring is almost here.
Yet for me it is here too
soon; my nib is sprung.

Spring brings a smile to
my face. But April 15th
brings woe. Taxes suck.

In spring I walk with
a spring in my step. English
is a weird language.

Pentracers enjoy
spring haiku contest. We have
way too much free time.

Night and day the same
Branches of fragrance and song
Ah,Primavera!

Penol fountain pen
small, black, strong with golden nib
prepared to write SPRING

Calla lilies stir
A rainbow of Esterbrooks
Softly whisper: "bloom!"

Celluloids rejoice
Their nibs will soon be drinking
Spring's fresh colored dew.

Filcao's Tuscan sun
Conklin's Glider in orange:
Signs of newborn Spring!

Equinox arrives
In subtle southern ways here,
Yet my pens grow wings.

Washington D.C
Fahrney's Pens, Cherry Blossoms,
Maki-E to buy.

Writing in springtime
Clairfontaine's toothy smooth page
jet black Pelikan

daffodil yellow
crocus in pale violet
private reserve ink.

the skyline barrel
is it like a tender shoot
from the earth in spring?

the new green in march
money, a new pelikan
envy in the spring

pussywillow wind
imagine the soft waking
creatures of the spring

first lawn violet
can clover be far behind?
rabbit salad. yes!

~Writing Tree: Spring~
Grass me, green me, ink
Me, my maple nibs ripple
Till word syrup swirls.

My pen thinks it's Spring.
It writes like a little girl,
skipping down the lane.

The heat has caused my
pen to sweat ink on my hand.
Amodex might help.

Trees blossom outside
sitting here I see the change.
hawthorn flowers white.

My pen leaves black lines
making words to describe spring.
my thoughts are made solid.

The temperature
makes it bad to be outside.
Stay inside and write.

Spring comes early here.
Month two shows signs of new life
I will mow today.

 

 

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