Grasshoppers seemingly hop in random directions, and so do poems. The poems on this page, many times, hopped away from the poet with a mind of their own. Others were more well behaved.
Anyone's guess
Into the grass
was a deeply
worn path
Cut grassGive me a fieldof cut grasstwo inches or so deep.
The fleeting things
The fleeting things of
this world
are its beauty,
a flower, a sunny day
a shared moment
between friends
A young ...
The Instructions
Tab oneinto slot oneTab twointo slot twomorninginto eveningDay onewithout you.
White flowering tree
White flowering treeWho sent you?Your neighboring pinesdon't catch my eye.