This is my title, My story is hereby named: My epic haiku.

I have a problem

And I can only explain

In five, seven, five.

It started last year,

A competition entry,

To write a haiku.

I liked the feeling

The counting of syllables,

The three lined pattern.

And I couldn’t stop.

I entered sixty-seven.

My new obsession.

It must seem crazy

To all you regular folk

Who write so freely?

Imagine faces

Of those I know, those I don’t

Who try to converse.

I count on fingers,

The syllables on digits,

As I speak out loud.

Tip tap on paper

My spidery hands tap, tap,

Checking the numbers.

It just has to be

The perfect little haiku

Or I lose control.

Once I got it wrong

A mistake in a story

Five, seven and four!

The shame was awful

I remember my anger

In the sad mirror

There for all to see,

The girl who made the mistake,

Sent the flawed haiku.

So I’m careful now

With double and triple checks

For five, seven, five.

And one day I’ll win,

And people will understand,

A nice big first prize.

Until this happens,

I’ll keep counting syllables

On my busy hands.

I’ll ignore the stares,

The sniggers, the distraction.

They just don’t get it.

My doctor’s advice

Shall be heeded: therapy

I’ll get there one day.

By Laura Huntley,

Lover of flash fiction and

Partial to haiku.