Willie R. Bongcaron

Born 1958 in Manila, Philippines
residing in Manila, Philippines
Mr. Willie Ropelos Bongcaron is a haijin by choice. He is an adherent of short poetry forms like haiku, senryu, tanka, haiga, free verse, etc, but has been particularly addicted to haiku for 8 or more years now. He resides in Sampaloc, Manila, the Philippines with his family; and is a government employee, having worked with the light rail system since 1985.


airport barista —
pouring happiness
into people's lives

Failed Haiku, 10.2021

just for you child:
the love of your parents
that has no bounds

Failed Haiku, 10.2021

morning sun
her smile a bucketful
of cherries

Failed Haiku 58 2020 Issue

hometown visit
my childhood etched
on a footbridge

Failed Haiku 58 2020 Issue

social distancing...
the sign language added
on the menu

heritage cognac
a bottle of memories
a bottle of love

morning news
her congee thick
in attention

if common talk
can’t get through…

my romance
with solitude
evening mist

morning blues
just a pinch of smile
on her face

the twists and turns
in each choice

kitchen tricks…
she never stops
to amaze me

Failed Haiku May 2020 Issue

connectivity the power of SMS

Failed Haiku: August 2019 Issue

I edit some
of my assertions

Failed Haiku August 2019 Issue

wedding march --
the groom's mother
lets out a sob

full moon --
her eyes beg me
to stay

cloudy morning
i keep the musings
in my pocket

eastbound train
memories speed up
with the clouds

carpentry lesson --
father brushes
aside summer
from a pile of wood

straw mat
on the floor, the long
summer night

dew drops --
the tears that linger
in her eyes

morning rain --
picking the pieces
of myself

train ride...
at the tail end
my longings

salted peanuts...
another heap of all
his heartaches

morning butterfly
the unsteady gait
of an old man

if only lovers
weren't so blind...
autumn moon

haiku walk
the shimmering palette
of an old master

street brawl...
a text message
on my phone

morning sky
I squint some more
to meet the sun

a piece
of jigsaw puzzle...
fake news

the whistle
of an old street thug
summer night

attic room
never too late to save

a pocket
full of memories...
homeless man

morning sun
the many ways I look
at a rose

in a bench
of have's and have not's
the same news