Cold snap in August;
frost in June, March heat wave:
Peace among nations.

haiku by Sonny Rainshine
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Pollen from saffron
blossoms and pink silktree blooms
tinge the western sky.

haiku by Sonny Rainshine
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War, prejudice, hate:
find a paring knife and cut
them out like an apple core.

haiku by Sonny Rainshine
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Arrow of Time

>t
>>>ti
>>>>tim
>>>>>time
>>>>>>time
>>>>>>>>time
>>>>>>time
>>>>time
>>> >tim
>>>ti
>t

poem by Sonny Rainshine
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Beach Music Remix

These days,
on understated evenings,
those August afternoons
in Biloxi on the beach-
flimsy
shrill
transister radios
planted in the sand
screeching out a Motown hit—
resurface and I don’t care
that love is not like that.

poem by Sonny Rainshine
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Tropical Sundown

Tremulously, tremulously,
green-blue, radiant light
filters off the lagoon.

Green-blue, radiant light
reflects the waning of the day
folding into night.

All the hours of the
day converge and dissolve in
green-blue radiant light.

poem by Sonny Rainshine
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What-nots

Life is not
a river;
love is
not a rose.

Grief is not
a bottomless well;
joy is
not a flower.

Wisdom is not
a pearl;
pain is
not a knife.

Strength is not
an oak tree;
fear is
not a color,

[...] Read more

poem by Sonny Rainshine
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Hyphenated Happiness

I like those languages that combine words
with a hyphen, like joy-luck. How I yearn to
be in that club, if the dues are not too high.

I’ve had joy, but not much luck;
maybe joy comes with luck,
or maybe we get lucky
when we are joyful.

Life is complicated-simple.

poem by Sonny Rainshine
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Not About Art

You must learn to tell me,
not write it. No,
don’t even speak;
show me.

Don’t even show me,
let me see it myself
in the irises in your eyes,
in a gesture,
in silence.

Do not reduce me
to a simile, a convenient rhyme;
wipe your heart off the page,
This is not about art.

poem by Sonny Rainshine
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Housewife, Reading

You settle into your chaise lounge,
absorbed in a Silhouette romance.

The heroine is chaste,
but ravishing, reckless. She is on a rampage
for Love.

The hero is chaste,
but wears his hair long
so that it flutters in the wind
on the moor.

You look up from the page
and into the aqua ripples
of the swimming pool.
You peer deeply into the depths.
You ask:

Is Love a lie?

poem by Sonny Rainshine
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