distant thunder-
popcorn popping
in the pan

leaflets on the wild rose sparrow

do not listen I speak, I speak, winter sunset

rain at dusk
from the neighbor's flat
the sound of a blender 

c
r
y
s
t
a
l
l
i
z
e
d

s
t
a
r
s -
I walk in the volume 
of the headphones

clouds gather the solitude of the lightning

dinner's ready
the call center guy offers
a worthless fab discount

gala dinner
the fight between etiquette
and chopsticks

election results
the nearby church
sounds the death knell

news shared online
the abuse of
emoticon hearts

grandma’s silk fan
her slow-paced
tales

NHK Haiku Masters website, runner-up on September 2017

closed umbrella...
a slice of moon
on the sidewalk

ombrello chiuso …
una fetta di luna
sul marciapiede



mist...
her eyes look without
seeing me anymore

cala la nebbia …
i suoi occhi mi fissano
senza vedermi



edge of day... 
the stars light up
one by one

fine del giorno … 
s’accendono le stelle
ad una ad una 

olive fields-
the tents of migrants
under the snow

cold polar-
blanket of cardboard
of the beggar

oriental spices-
inside the old bazaar
I find a bit of home

in the suitcase
the smells of the earth-
a long journey

moon eclipse
so brief
the life of a moth


spring equinox
the smell of snow
disappearing


knotted branches
the forgotten nest
of a heron


cold wind
the loneliness
of fallen leaves

far thunder-
how long without hearing
a reproach

tinywords 29.11.2017

The only thing I wanted was to make my migraine bearable, so I thought of the tonic that grandmother used for most of her diseases, including headaches. She kept it locked up in the pantry in a finely painted bottle. It smelled like kerosene. So I held my breath and swallowed a large glass in one go. In a matter of moments my eyes got cloudy and I started coughing. Those were just some of the "side effects" of my grandmother's famous medication. 

two fingers of vodka -
the Virgin Mary statue
smiling at me

in each phrase
the name of her son-
cicada shell

plic ploc _
a tap drips
the infinity


salami sandwich -
the boar's footsteps
scented with moss

rosemary…
the mechanical shovel
flattens the dunes

commuter's train -
awakening
of a dirty periphery

sixth of June
the rancid aftertaste
of my ice cream

MHP Academy – June 6th, Quickie Writing Challenge -first place

deleted spaces
of an ancient fresco --
winter fields