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Marshall Bood

@marshallbood.bsky.social

780 followers 1.1K following 67 posts

poet and author of Spring Cleaning(Ugly Duckling Presse, 2021) Order here: https://uglyducklingpresse.org/publications/spring-cleaning/

uglyducklingpresse.org

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Marshall Bood @marshallbood.bsky.social · 4d

wildfire smoke —
the hospital’s automatic
doors

Modern Haiku 56.3(2025)

#haiku #senryu #micropoetry

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Reposted by Marshall Bood

Doug @flip89db.bsky.social · 6d

crisp bite
of the hunter’s moon
geese in formation

#DailyHaikuPrompt (geese)
#haiku

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Marshall Bood @marshallbood.bsky.social · 4d

wildfire smoke —
the hospital’s automatic
doors

Modern Haiku 56.3(2025)

#haiku #senryu #micropoetry

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Reposted by Marshall Bood

Hifsa Ashraf @hifsays.bsky.social · Aug 23

Many thanks to Paul Miller for including my haiku in the latest issue of Modern Haiku, issue 56.3.

www.modernhaiku.org

Image: Canava

#haiku #micropoetry #writingcommunity #poetry

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Reposted by Marshall Bood

Amorak Huey @amorak.bsky.social · 4d

Hannah Arendt —

This was the farewell:
Many friends came with us
and whoever did not come was no longer a friend.

This was the evening:
Haltingly, it slowed our pace, and drew our souls out the window.

This was the train:
Measuring the country in flight
and slowing as it passed through many cities.

This is the arrival:
Bread is no longer called bread
and wine in a foreign language changes the conversation.

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Reposted by Marshall Bood

Maudie Bryant @maudiemichelle.com · 5d

This poem, "On a Morning When Everything Feels Heavy," came out of the first week I went back to work after my dad's funeral. It's that staggering feeling of loss mixed with the pressure of a world that just keeps going.

I'm honored to have it included in Shift: A Journal of Literary Oddities 💞

A close-up photograph of an open book, showcasing a poem titled "On a Morning When Everything Feels Heavy" by Maudie Bryant. The page rests on another copy of the book, Shift: A Journal of Literary Oddities.

Poem Text:

On a Morning When Everything Feels Heavy

by Maudie Bryant

The coffee scalds my tongue,
bitter as the ache that woke me.
I think of my father's hands,
how they used to cup my face,
how they smelled
like cigarettes and sawdust.

The world doesn't care
if I stay in bed today,
but my inbox fills
like a sink left running—
so I pull on jeans
stiff with yesterday's sweat,
grab the keys,
and pretend the engine's roar
isn't just another version of my own.

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Reposted by Marshall Bood

Poetry Daily @poetrydaily.bsky.social · Sep 3

Today's Featured Poem:

"[may rain]" by Masaoka Shiki & translated from Japanese by Abby Ryder-Huth from The Glass Clouding published by @uglyducklingpresse.bsky.social

Read here:
spare.poems.com/poem/may-rai...

[may rain]

and the hills of

spare.poems.com

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Reposted by Marshall Bood

Jose Hernandez Diaz @josehernandezdz.bsky.social · 22d

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Doug @flip89db.bsky.social · 7d

if only
we could avoid this talk
. . . October rain

#DailyHaikuPrompt (avoid)
#haiku
#senryu

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Marshall Bood @marshallbood.bsky.social · 7d

A haiku from Modern Haiku a few years ago

#haiku #senryu #micropoetry
#autumn #tanka

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Marshall Bood @marshallbood.bsky.social · 13d

A break from Edna’s morning zoomies

#cats #cute

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Doug @flip89db.bsky.social · 15d

country road
turning up the volume
of stars

—The Heron’s Nest, Volume XXVI, Number 4: December 2024

#haiku

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Reposted by Marshall Bood

Amy Borgman @ireneaddie.bsky.social · 18d

autumn chill—
the sun setting
on the orb weaver

#haiku #haikusaturday
#shahai #spiders

Orb weaver spider in a web in a south facing window with a reflection of trees and sky.

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Marshall Bood @marshallbood.bsky.social · 15d

trains …
sometimes the sound
carries farther

Presence Issue 76(2023)

#haiku #micropoetry #senryu
#trains

Reposted by Marshall Bood

Deborah A. Bennett @dabennettpoet.bsky.social · 24d

wildfire ash
the shopkeeper adjusts
her flowered mask

- Deborah A. Bennett
Wales Haiku Journal, Autumn 2024

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Reposted by Marshall Bood

Doug @flip89db.bsky.social · 20d

family reunion
revisiting my
imposter syndrome

—-Cold Moon Journal 09/18/25

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Marshall Bood @marshallbood.bsky.social · 21d

rainy autumn…
a tea bag
steeps the sidewalk

Shamrock Haiku Journal #35(2016)

#haiku #senryu #micropoetry #autumn #tea

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Marshall Bood @marshallbood.bsky.social · 21d

as if my opinions
are of any importance …
I shut the window
on a cold
autumn night

Presence 66(2020)

#tanka #haiku #senryu #micropoetry #autumn

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Reposted by Marshall Bood

Doug @flip89db.bsky.social · 26d

pointing out
the harvest moon—
my foster child

#DailyHaikuPrompt (harvest)
#haiku

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Marshall Bood @marshallbood.bsky.social · 25d

giving up on insomnia she switches time zones

Failed Haiku 11 November, 2016

#senryu #haiku #tanka #micropoetry #insomnia #humour

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Marshall Bood @marshallbood.bsky.social · 29d

how do we know
we are not already dead …
autumn leaves
that reappear
after the snowmelt

Presence 65(2019)

#tanka #micropoetry #haiku #death

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Reposted by Marshall Bood

Jose Hernandez Diaz @josehernandezdz.bsky.social · 29d

Here’s my poem, “Barcelona, 1933,”published in The Westchester Review, from my forthcoming book, “The Lighthouse Tattoo,” (Acre Books, fall 2026).

www.westchesterreview.com/jose-hernand...

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Reposted by Marshall Bood

Doug @flip89db.bsky.social · Sep 15

grateful to have three of my haiku appear in 𝘏𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘰𝘴𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘰𝘸 𝘗𝘰𝘦𝘵𝘳𝘺 𝘑𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘢𝘭, 09/13/25

—

oversteeped lilac
notes of bitter
in your whispers

a sip of earl grey
treefingers
cradling the moon

until
it is not birdsong
a child's why

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Marshall Bood @marshallbood.bsky.social · Sep 13

Thanks!

Marshall Bood @marshallbood.bsky.social · Sep 13

ruined building –
the doghouse in the shade
empty too

bottle rockets #48, February 2023

#haiku #micropoetry

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Reposted by Marshall Bood

Nancy Huggett @nancyhuggett.bsky.social · Sep 3

Red leaves, mostly some gold & the turn that I was expecting but also made me laugh & cry.

pumpkin spice Toddé @toddedillard.bsky.social · Sep 2

my issue of Threepenny is here! here’s my poem “Present Tense,” I would love for you to give it a read!

“I know this so loudly I don’t
hear, at first, my father’s silence.”

Present Tense
by Todd Dillard

My father’s telling me about his dog,
how it fell into a well
when they were walking down a wooded path.
His dog ran across some rotted planks,
the planks splintered, “And whoosh!”
my father says. “No more dog.”
I look at the clock and remind my father it’s three A.M.
“I’m not finished,” he says.
He tells me about the rope he bought, the bucket,
how he knotted the rope to the bucket, lowered it down,
and yelled for the dog to get in.
“But all I pulled up was more barking.”
“Dad,” I say. “This never happened.”
He says he can’t remember
how long he tried to get the dog
to shimmy into the bucket.
Just that at some point
when the sky turned tawny—“Dad—“
as a pitcher of sweet tea—“Dad—“
he decided to give up.
“Dad,” I say. “It’s late.
I’m tired. And you’re dead.”
“Dammit, son,” my father says. “Let me finish!”
My father tells me about filling the bucket with dirt
and pouring the dirt into the well.
And I know what he’s getting at, I know
he’s going to tell me bucket by bucket
he filled the well and
the dog jumped out. He’s going to say
something about how the dog
led him home through the dark.
I know this so loudly I don’t
hear, at first, my father’s silence.
“Dad?” I say. “Dad, are you there?”
I keep lowering the bucket
but all I ever pull up are leaves.
Red leaves. Lately, some gold.

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