Swings in back yard

Photo by Pirate

Laughter of children playing, pushing each other on the swings and daring to go yet higher as the dogs bark and growl and chase each other about the yard.

Short grass turned brown by hot summer sun riding high in clear blue skies, a light breeze stirring the closeness of the air.

The smokey smell of the barbeque as another slab of raw meat is placed sizzling and spitting upon the searing hot metal of the grill. The man of the house prodding at the hot coals, the last vestige of his ancient role as hunter-gatherer, beer in one hand, tongs in the other as he banters with friends.

No more.

Not since the nuclear holocaust.

Nuclear winter
Incandescent flakes of ash
Fall on open graves



About TheImaginator

35 year old sciolist living in Tokyo. I like swing dancing, Twitter word games, writing, using, reading, and watching movies. I write stuff on my blog occasionally.
This entry was posted in Creative writing, Poetry and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

8 Responses to Winter

  1. djmatticus says:

    That pesky nuclear holocaust always ruining my pleasant afternoon barbecues.

  2. Ese' s Voice says:

    Very original – you have taken me to the place I definitely didn’t expect to be taken to. Powerful – especially your haiku.

  3. Sun says:

    Ooo, no, no, no! this is all too realistic – let us pray a nuclear winter never comes. well done.

  4. Ye Pirate says:

    Strong end – I was taken along with the very nice imagery, then really got a shock! Great haiku, and well-written!

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s