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Haiku by Greg Kereakoglow

in the circled wood
among the feather and fur,
for a fallen leaf.

alone in the meadow
rusts the old plow and harrow,
like no tomorrow.

warm November rain,
splashing colors, fallen leaves,
perched on puddles,

aging gracefully,
a coverage of weeds, now
once, where gardens grew.

book on the nightstand,
dog eared, spread face down, half read.
its ink against time.

confess to the rain,
and confide to the flowers.
concede to the wind.

rained all day
on a hundred colored leaves
your hair has turned white.

my eyes she shuts, when
her face from there, appears west
as the setting sun.

at the end of life
invitations to a death
who are the guests?


white cherry blossoms
troubled, fits the rain, windows
where the wind stopped by.

canning tomatoes,
it’s cool today, not humid,
a good day to can.

all four wheels squeaking,
the wagon keeps on rolling,
the horse gets annoyed.

without a hat, caught
in a summer rain, distraught
for not having that

across wind swept fields
scoured snow drifts, barren tree,
dried grass, a fox run

opening the lid
a possum in a barrel
seemingly content.

unwinding, walking
where the way’s leaving’s leading.
narrow curves, turning.

hardened, from the fields,
tales, the soft storied summers
tilled by the farmer.

it is a very odd place,
its happening now.

divining the day,
from resting into waking,
birds perched on songs, sing

I felt the cool breeze,
it felt of weather, a breath
whispering a song

swells, white capped windrows,
biting winds, the sharp toothed sea
gulps gulf, sand and shore.

peaceable waters,
no pebble cast, no rippled
waves, mere reflection.

even the general
took off his armour to gaze
at the peonies.

knotted trees, like ghosts
swaying burly, haunting light,
down in Haynesville wood.

the wind is a train
for the sky, on it she tracks
for sky bound stations

in the company
of cats that could not care less
about company

tall shadows shorten,
retreating, for the forest,
longing, for the trees.


Poet artist Gregory KerekoglowI live in rural western Massachusetts with my wife of 38 years, 4 cats, and lots of memories on my wife’s family’s vegetable farm. Besides raising vegetables we raised 2 daughters, an English setter, some fish, turtles, and even more cats. Both my wife and I are of Greek northern Aegean descent from the Island of Lesvos close to the Turkish shore.

I have been writing and publishing most all my life and have had poetry published in several chap books over the years. There are several self-published manuscripts of poetry and prose in various stages of evolution: Beelzebub’s Benediction and Haiku, Lyric and Other Writings. There also is a novel in the works tentatively called The Gospel of Innocence.

I also am a photographer, paint icons as well as secular art, perform music in several groups.

Some of my work can be seen and heard at the following links:

Prose Poetry Haikus can viewed at gregorykereakoglow.blogspot.com
Artwork can be viewed at gregorykereakoglowstudio.yolasite.com
Music can be hear at www.facebook.com/Greg Kereakoglow
Music www.facebook.com/the dustillers


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Published inPoetry


  1. Russell MacClaren Russell MacClaren

    Haiku with a kigo and a touch of feeling for the moment. Greg’s haiku wrap around you then penetrate the senses as good haiku are supposed to do.

  2. Lisa Karen Lisa Karen

    Greg Kereakoglow actually showed his love for a vegetable farm just as he rightly said about himself, and as a great poet, he could easily write about his immediate environment. Nice work Greg

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