Haiku About my Kids

I am not a poet. Still, sometimes life seems a bit more manageable with a prescribed number of syllables, doesn’t it?


Small furious boy

growls and pounds the couch cushions

his mind filled with NO.


When a little guy

endeavours to create art

his tongue must stick out.


Blue eyes gazing up

cluster of balloons rising

face aglow with joy.


Tiny daughter howls

right to the end of her breath

trapped in wakefulness.


Baby’s deep-pool stare

all innocence and wonder



Slack sleeping faces

perfect delicate features

so lovely it hurts.


We just ride the waves

frustration and elation

hard but still worth it.



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  1. oh, whose were the blue eyes? glad they liked the balloons. ev said that one of the balloons popped – oh dear! did it encounter stucco? so many of our ceilings are dangerous…

    1. emerge, they were E’s blue eyes. When he realized he could pull on them and they would float back up… it was that awesome grin, like the “wingardium leviosa” moment. Sigh.

    1. Thanks, Larks – I’m guessing all of us have had THOSE moments – as you say, good times! Had one just today when I told my son his time with the iPhone was up… lovely memories to cherish. 😉

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