He sighed./
She thot something was amiss./
He was denied./She sank deeper in2 the abyss./

This Christmas he prayed he’d finally get
a grown-up boy’s chemistry set.

Ich will nicht warten/
fuer Die, wofuer ich schon lang/
gewartet habe.

Loose translation (in haiku):
I don’t want to wait/
any more, for she, who I’ve/
long been waiting for.

Of all the women/
who could reject me, I did/
not expect Mother.

A friend argued with me that she wasn’t the muse for piece I wrote. This is an IMprov haiku response:

Sometimes muses join/
together. Creation is/
summarization.

Sometimes it is good/
to run naked, exposing/
your dreams to the world.

Just because you were/
expecting a control freak/
doesnt make me one.

Can you tell last night/
was a new experience?/
I’m soooooo embarrassed!

You told lies about me./
I acted with charity./
Yours is the worst hurt.

Dont know what happened./
Fifteen minutes turned into/
ten hours of silence.

A friend called me from Washington State. She usually writes haiku about what she sees on her drive to work, but this morning, she couldn’t, so she described it to me in a phone call. This haiku is the result:
Branched fingers grope t’ward/
morn’s fogged sunlight. I see your/
phoned distant vision.