closet skeleton
I agree to remember it
her way

steamy subway
I lean away
from an armpit

coffee date
I learn his life history
in an hour

skinny dipping–
a beaver moon bathes
in the sea

bikini girl –
he pulls in
his beer gut


Failed Haiku Journal of Senryu April 2017

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Beyond the Midnight Blue

Midnight Blue.jpg


I love to love you in the Spring,

When nesting birds take to wing. 

When sunlight glints on morning dew,

My heart sings melodies for you.

And when the sun drops behind the hills,

When all is dark and evening chills,

When the moon is high up in the sky,

Love gives me wings and lets me fly.

When cold winds blow the leaves in fall,

Amidst the winter’s bitter squall,

I run my fingers through your hair,

And sense the fragrance that you wear.

When the first crocus breaks the snow,

That’s when my love for you will grow,             

The time for loneliness has passed, 

For now, the love spell has been cast.

When winter’s winds no longer bite,

On fine and moonlit summer nights,

As we dream beyond the midnight blue,

I will love to love my dream come true.


Whispers March 2017

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cold moon—
moss covers his name
on the gravestone


© Martha Magenta

cattails April 2017



sparkling cider
a busker blows stars
into the sky

beaver moon
the wind makes a heap
of pine cones

our voices
join the wind

© Martha Magenta

Akitso Quarterly Spring 2017

a ripe squash hangs
from the trellis


cinnamon buns—
the first time I saw
my neighbour

blackberry moon
filling jam jars
to the brim

© Martha Magenta

Brass Bell April 1, 2017


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his last breath
the wind takes the last
orchard leaf March 2017


my shadow leads
the way

knitting a shawl
grandmother folds
into the fog

© Martha Magenta

Inner Voices: International Women’s Haiku Festival March 12, 2017

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melting ice
her first letter after
fifty years
– Martha Magenta


the wind restyles
my hair
– Martha Magenta


brass bell March 1, 2017

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Elocution lessons

Elocution lessons are a necessity for a strict upbringing.
The posh tutor made us recite the following until we were catatonic:
“Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled pepper. If Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled pepper, where’s the peck of pickled pepper Peter Piper picked?”
We wondered if it was all worth the wacking wad she wanted for her wages.

stiff upper lip
father’s welsh accent
slips past the guard

Failed Haiku Journal of English Senryu Vol 2, Issue 14, March 1, 2017

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his side of the bed has more
room than mine


she buys another
snow globe

mini skirt
the wind whistles
through the arcade

I caress his body
in a spirit of ecstasy
Rolls-Royce Silver Cloud

© Martha Magenta

Failed Haiku Journal of English Senryu Vol 2, Issue 14, March 1, 2017

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