Showing posts with label Jennifer Gurney. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Jennifer Gurney. Show all posts

Saturday, November 15, 2025

Eight Micropoems by Jennifer Gurney

 each time

a wave of grief flattens me

I try to remember

to whisper “let go”

so the wave returns to the sea


***


alone

she waits

for sunset

for sunrise

another day


***


waiting for the clock

to reach tomorrow

putting this 

anniversary behind me

survivor


***


will our

children's children

be able to watch

ice caps

as they calve


***


a single snowflake

falling toward my outstretched tongue

melts in the air above

from the warmth of our 

imagined kiss


***


piano floats

alongside flute

weaving together

counterpart and melody

sublimely Jethro Tull


***


patchouli

with aftertones of

unwashed-ness

seeking but failing

to cover


***


store-bought roses

in the middle of winter

anticipating

summer’s

bounty

- Jennifer Gurney

Broomfield, Colorado, US


Jennifer Gurney lives in Colorado where she teaches, paints, writes and hikes. Her poetry is widely published, two of her poems have won international contests and one was turned into a choral piece. Jennifer has four books of published poetry, My Eyes Adjusting (2024), Liquid Sky (2025), Love’s Echolocation (2025) and Light Matters More (2025, forthcoming). In just over two and a half years, more than 1,500 of Jennifer’s poems have been published. She is also delighted to be a guest editor for Haiku Girl Summer.


Saturday, February 8, 2025

Eight Micropoems by Jennifer Gurney


here a brief moment
wound your heart around mine
then gone
I am
unraveled
***

the song’s end
hung in silent air
connected to our heartstrings
tether only broken
by erupting applause
***

a poem softly lands
on my open heart
gentle, in the moonlight
***

walking beside you
the sound of your voice
streaming in my heart
***

your light shines bright
trailing love glitter
wherever you go
***

you leave
a constant stream of love
in your wake
***

even after 
divorce papers are signed
my heart claims you.
***

that moment
of push-me-pull-you ness
knowing I need to
finding it impossible
to let you go
***

Jennifer Gurney lives in Colorado where she teaches, paints, writes and hikes. Her poetry has appeared internationally in a wide variety of journals, two of her poems have won international contests and one was recently turned into a choral piece for a concert. Jennifer’s first book of poetry, My Eyes Adjusting, was published in 2024. Her second book, Liquid Sky, will be out early this year. To-date, nearly 4000 of her poems have been published in just over two years.

Sunday, March 31, 2024

Eight Modern Haiku by Jennifer Gurney

gazing at the moon
in perfect balance
between Earth and sky
□

I still can't believe
you are gone-
each day I let go anew
□

books 
at my bedside-
a lengthy queue
□

my next tattoo 
will be over my heart -
Picasso's dove
□

shining stars
dancing in the moonlight
against the night sky
□

my mom’s handwriting
brings memories to light of
words unspoken
□

green to yellow 
to red to ground-
the life of a leaf
□

when my reach 
outstretches my grasp-
I touch possibility
□

© Jennifer Gurney
Broomfield, Colorado, US
jennifer.gurney@bvsd.org


Jennifer Gurney lives in Colorado where she teaches, paints, writes and hikes. Her poetry has appeared in a variety of journals, including Micropoetry Cosmos Blog, The Ravens Perch, HaikUniverse, Haiku Corner, Cold Moon Journal, Scarlet Dragonfly and The Haiku Foundation.

Saturday, January 6, 2024

Eight Modern Haiku by Jennifer Gurney

that first snowflake–
magic as it melts
upon my tongue
□

when it's cold
I can always find you
by the space heater
□

"ignight"
to light a fire at dark
to ward the cold
□

hard to get warm
when the cold is from
the inside
□

the cold is lovely
soft and deep-
from my haven inside
□

the cold stole
my beautiful golden tree-
with one big breath
□

strange brew of laundry--
shorts from last weekend with
today's winter coat
□

just a wink of winter
snow mixed with fallen leaves
before fall returns
□

© Jennifer Gurney
Broomfield, Colorado, US
jennifer.gurney@bvsd.org

Jennifer Gurney lives in Colorado where she teaches, paints, writes and hikes. Her poetry has appeared in a variety of journals, including Micropoetry Cosmos, The Ravens Perch, HaikUniverse, Haiku Corner, Cold Moon Journal, Scarlet Dragonfly and The Haiku Foundation.

Monday, June 5, 2023

Seven Modern Haiku on Early Summer by Jennifer Gurney

diaphanous mist
wafts up from the morning lake
sublimation
□
a clear freshet
bursts from my drain spout
early summer squall
□
that first bite of 
juicy watermelon
summertime bliss
□
patio dinners
with candlelight and music
simply taste better
□
so warm I open
the sliding glass door and 
in saunters summer
□
breeze wafts branches
sunlight dances on bricks
patio dappled
□
i wake to you
the promise of summer
with a lighter heart
□
© Jennifer Gurney
Colorado, US


Haiku poet Jennifer Gurney lives in Colorado where she teaches, paints, writes and hikes. She is a newly published poet, at age 59, with over 100 poems in print thus far. Jennifer has also published commentary about poetry and poetry-related essays. During the pandemic she joined the online poetry community of The Daily Haiku. Poetry has been a lifeline. Jennifer's poetry has appeared in a variety of journals, including The Ravens Perch, HaikUniverse, Blithe Spirit, Cold Moon Journal, Asahi Haikuist, Scarlet Dragonfly and The Haiku Foundation, among others.

Eight Micropoems by Jennifer Gurney

 each time a wave of grief flattens me I try to remember to whisper “let go” so the wave returns to the sea *** alone she waits for sunset f...