Over 75 thousand Zazzle Fine Art Photography Products!

DrBillCreations ⬅︎ Check out over 75 thousand of my photography products at my Zazzle store! Writing haiku is like capturing a moment in time. Capturing life in photographs has a family resemblance. Please check out my photography sites!

Saturday, May 31, 2008

dappled sunlight men talk of men they knew

w. f. owen

Friday, May 30, 2008


building clouds
the pregnant mail carrier
delivers my seeds

spring thunder
slight cracks in the
swollen tree buds

planting seeds
my finger
just deep enough

classic rock radio:
"sowing the seeds
of love"

college newspaper
an ad for
ovum donors

lingering light
pulling flesh
from a cling peach

w. f. owen
(Modern Haiku, Autumn 2005, p. 82)
warm evening the smell of chlorine from the pool

w. f. owen

Thursday, May 29, 2008

the lilies open music through the trees

w. f. owen
sweltering heat she rubs oil on her stretch marks

w. f. owen
dead yellow jacket colors of the sunset

w. f. owen

Wednesday, May 28, 2008

a little early to get up birds

w. f. owen

Tuesday, May 27, 2008

while the wine breathes they whisper

w. f. owen
we lean into the campfire summer moon

w. f. owen

Sunday, May 25, 2008


WALKING GUARD DUTY around a Quonset hut of ammunition on the Marine Corps Air Station, Oahu, my high school ring tapping the barrel of a loaded M-14 rifle. Possible racial and anti-war riots threaten the base. Tropical stars trigger memories. The major in boot camp warned me that this ring would snag and pull my finger off when jumping from a helicopter in Nam. Instead of going to West Pac, I got stuck driving a "six-by" truck in California until boredom spurred a transfer request, which could have led to the Tet Offensive, not here to paradise. First week on the Rock, the sunburn from bodysurfing, tasting poi (the glue-like brown paste made from taro), hearing stories on the base from Marines, and on liberty in Waikiki from soldiers and sailors on R & R, about rumors of Russian tanks crossing the DMZ, moments of unspeakable terror beside hours of boredom. Alcohol-induced loose tongues, like the kid in the bar so juiced he removed the prosthetic mask covering what was left of his face from falling on a grenade. He stuck the plastic fa├žade on someone's arm and watched him flick it off like some dead alien in a sci-fi film. A faint steel guitar playing Hawaiian music wafts through swaying palms just ahead of the approaching change of guard. “Halt, who goes there?”
About a year later, while SCUBA diving off the base near an old firing range, I lose my senior ring.

the military beach
a crab with one claw

w. f. owen
(small events: haibun by w. f. owen,
Red Moon Press, 2007, p. 20)
Memorial Day weekend war marathon

w. f. owen

Saturday, May 24, 2008

dog tags

A FRIEND TELLS ME that his brother’s dog tags were among hundreds found on a recent trip to Vietnam by two Florida businessmen. His brother was listed MIA after his helicopter was shot down during the 1968 Tet Offensive. Stamped into the metal tags are his name, serial number and blood type. The businessmen bought over 600 of the tags in the back alley shops of Ho Chi Minh City. Some cost just a few pennies.

his brother’s dog tags
found after thirty years
washing off foreign soil

w. f. owen
(small events: haibun by w. f. owen,
Red Moon Press, 2007, p. 39)

Friday, May 23, 2008

the ex-Colonel
thumbs along the seams
of his jeans

w. f. owen
(haiku notebook, p. 7).
school's out the students' heavy footfalls

w. f. owen
ants crawl up the crinkled bark cirrus clouds

w. f. owen
a riff on his air guitar May flowers

w. f. owen

Thursday, May 22, 2008

insect collection a fly lands on it

w. f. owen

Wednesday, May 21, 2008

between cultivated fields wild mustard

w. f. owen

Tuesday, May 20, 2008

picking it up the speck of dirt crawls away

w. f. owen

Monday, May 19, 2008

morning shadows sprinkler water crosses the sidewalk

w. f. owen

Sunday, May 18, 2008

thunder he cleans his nails with a pocketknife

w. f. owen

Saturday, May 17, 2008

thunder overlapping footsteps in the parade


in the garden alone with the insects

w. f. owen

Friday, May 16, 2008

slice of moon a cat curled atop the car

w. f. owen
foreclosure at the property line green grass

w. f. owen

Thursday, May 15, 2008

first sunburn the dried-out blackhead

w. f. owen
a year has filled this sidewalk crack

w. f. owen

Wednesday, May 14, 2008

day of the funeral I wake to a mourning dove

w. f. owen

Tuesday, May 13, 2008

sharpening the pencil to its end

w. f. owen

Monday, May 12, 2008

the taste of blood

The last dog we had growing up, a boxer named Bullet,
developed the habit of jumping up and laying his paws
on the chest of anyone who approached. Licking and
slobbering, he only wanted to play, but would knock over
small children, so we were forced to take him to live in the
rural town of my grandparents. There was plenty of open space.
Rabbits and possums to hunt. When he needed to be chained,
he had the shade of the plum trees. On our visits we would throw
the green canning plums for him to chase. He liked to chase. He
also went after the neighbor’s chickens sometimes and killed a few.
“Once they get the taste of blood, you might as well shoot ’em,”
the man explained.
And one day, that’s just what he did.

first fist fight
the taste of blood
in my mouth

(p. 5, small events: haibun by w. f. owen,
Red Moon Press, 2007)

This is one of fifty haibun from my book.
Haibun are prose elements combined with haiku.
There is an interplay of the two in which a surplus
of meaning occurs. It offers an expansion of creativity
in a sense. Some haiku have more of a "story" to them
than the brief lines allow. From time to time
I will place more haibun here.
out for airing the rug's true colors

w. f. owen

Sunday, May 11, 2008

Mother's Day the silence before hanging up

w. f. owen

Saturday, May 10, 2008

picking the fruit my life half over

w. f. owen


empty box of nails the rust

w. f. owen

Friday, May 9, 2008


old men playing dominoes the bare bulb

w. f. owen

Thursday, May 8, 2008

soft sun

in soft sun father and son play catch

w. f. owen

Wednesday, May 7, 2008

summer comes

summer comes the honeybee clings to my shirt

w. f. owen

Tuesday, May 6, 2008

tree rings

tree rings one of the years was hard

w. f. owen

Monday, May 5, 2008

lunch boxes

the swing of lunch boxes after the shift

w. f. owen

Sunday, May 4, 2008


long day again he reels in his line to check the bait

w. f. owen

Saturday, May 3, 2008


the same two doves live on the foreclosed home

w. f. owen


the dusty porch after the girl swept

w. f. owen

a new month

a new month the vendor rotates his fruit

w. f. owen

blood orange

at the home a slice of blood orange on a white plate

w. f. owen

Friday, May 2, 2008


homesick tracing the stream to its source

w. f. owen

Thursday, May 1, 2008

May Day

May Day the colt runs circles around his mom

w. f. owen