Tanka

silver paper
crickle-crackle sky
of oven-ready pigeons
we follow the mirage road
never reach the ocean

Three ways to say, it’s raining

haiku

watching the rain
spirits ditchwater dull
fountains of birdsong

tanka

watching the rain
sky loaded laden lowering
the dull splash of meadow mud
spirits sink in the un-sun
while birdsong soars heavenwards

triolet

Spring is rushing away from me,
Bright days are dulled with running rain,
Their flowers lost in heavy sea,
Grey waves. As far as eye can see,
Spring is rushing away from me.
Thrush knows and sings this gentle pain,
Spring is rushing away from me,
Bright days are dulled with running rain.

Five lines

Three five-line poems, trying to get a tanka. I think the middle one is sort of a tanka, maybe.

Five lines

These dawns
of sand-blasted sky
and veiled light
the paper blue singed
before the heat.

Night cool wilts
limp-winged into dawn
yellow after-glow
a thousand and one nights
of dune-dust blowing.

Burnished steel this sky
the ancients polished with sand
before there was steel
bronze a softer colour
beneath a softer sun.