Haibun: death vibes

Was she dead? It did not matter, if she was. More important, was he dead? Her eyes opened for a sec.

death vibes-
she sent those to him,
he, blemish to society

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Why don't you try something in 160 characters? Space included!

Haibun in 55 words!

A piece of white cloth I had bought, to paint on it, turned out to be a bigger project than I had anticipated. Now the shape on it hurts me no end. Blindly I seek you to ask where I placed it.

you were present here
what abyss propelled you in
shroud wraps around you

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Not all I write is a personal reflection. Please do bear that in mind while reading and commenting. Remember, poets/writers have very vivid imaginations and have the insight for empathy too. You will agree with that if you are either or both. However, many a times we forget the distinction and presume and assume.

powders of stones

Layer by layer, he chiselled the surface, hardened over time. Now time had no meaning, but for his work. Destruction, construction, it was not for him to decide. On his feet lay the debris, powdered monument, was it? Nothing made sense any more, only the task, burdened with overcast ripples of thumbed ocean.

only a chipped thought
flies away to the cerulian sky
sacred invasion

His skin had that sheen, although weathered. He was the monument, and its love, which none remembered. If memories had a tapestry, he would win hands down. But memories, for him,  were traps of fire, a quagmire, with no immediate escape.

swat flying creatures
they can't take you far away
you will die anyway

I close the chapter, with a snap, find my fingers breaking the spine. Horrified I observe the pages falling apart, just like the miniscule powders of stones, flying around him. Not bothered, he hammers the ground now. When the earth shakes, he laughs out loud, a sound I had forgotten. I like the crying earth, the bursting sky, awaiting for water to engulf me.

oceans are so hungry-
always swallow those stones
whole city underneath

Haibun: seedy deeds

A breathe I felt on my neck. A storm within my ear. It roared and slipped into nothing. I chased it to the moon. An invisible shadow. An antithesis of wasteland. I couldn't see it. But feel it, I did. What of it? The purple sky merged into orange and buttons of diamonds danced with glee.

Where had I come? And from where? From the inside of a book, I flew into it, that creature, which can't be scene. A friend, a foe? Flashes of light bursts all over the place. An acrid smell tastes so salty. My tongue burns it out. I turn towards that shadow, just barely visible. A giant bee stings me. I cry out. Chanting curses, I kill it with my voice. And find a golden winged fairy dead at my feet. Weighty issues to tackle now, I burn at the stakes.

seed pearls fall over
ground paves it into you
sky watches with detach

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I don't know if I succeeded in writing a Haibun. But I am glad I tried, thanks to Big Tent Poetry.