I can write haiku on twenty-five milligrams— amid rolling waves. A. G. 2020 (Photo credit: Shutterstock.)
Snowflakes in sunbeams settle upon pink petals— a summer surprise. Amanda Gilmour 2020
Memories A breeze whispers to the peony roses, expelling scents of Mum. A. G. 2020 Documenting sertraline/zoloft withdrawal through Haiku. Withdrawal day 3. Current dose 100mg. Symptoms: smelling things that aren't there, nausea, headache, dry mouth, depersonalisation, vivid dreams.
Withdrawal Half a pill less thaws my heart's frosty fringe but the freeze remains. A. G. 2020
Wind strewn rose petals pale from red to pink when winter bites summer. Amanda~Louise Gilmour © 2020
On the old apple blossom, crispy petals bloom into white butterflies. Amanda~Louise Gilmour © 2020
Sparkling star-like on roses, dewdrops ignited by sunrise. Amanda~Louise Gilmour © 2020
Gauzy clouds veil sun- down, diluting the scarlett sky, salmon-pink. Amanda~Louise Gilmour © 2020
Breathy droplets (suspended between dust motes) drown my flailing lungs. © Amanda~Louise Gilmour 2020
If only I could sleep and inhabit dreams where I wander freely. Amanda~Louise Gilmour Receive a weekly haiku in your inbox.
Fractured quartzite-rocks graze Achriesgill's grey edges with scattered pieces that I wrap in my lace scarf, keeping the hill close. by Amanda~Louise Gilmour
At Oldshoremore, the aurora borealis waltzes over stars while I collect broken shells bathed in rose-gold glow. by Amanda~Louise Gilmour
As I burn your soul onto paper, a butterfly lands on my pen. by Amanda~Louise Gilmour Click here to bring the outside inside
Dawn's ghostly whisper, dappled with rose-gold hues, seeps into inky skies. by Amanda Gilmour