Irina Guliaeva
Irina was born in Moscow region, Russia in 1991, write poems, prose, plays, lyrics of songs and translate poetry. From age of fourteen have been working as a journalist. In 2015 graduated from Literature institute named M. Gorky. Some of her haiku recently appeared in Under the Basho.
billions of stars
a call to remind me
about my light bills
too big for ages
mum's shoes are too small
shooting star
twilight snail on a refugee`s palm
different winds for neighbor flags plastic
circles on the water her orgasm
melting hope I`d catch up with skiing
Under the Basho 2019
missed flight last year`s leaves on the twigs
Under the Basho 2019
less and less
I look like that girl
wedding album
Failed Haiku, issue 39, March 2019
return home
I wish this button
had really worked
Failed Haiku, issue 38, February 2019
senior home
dusting
our family album
Failed Haiku, issue 38, February 2019
nerve drops
unborn daughter
gets another last name
Failed Haiku, issue 38, February 2019
me and me again our wedding album
Presence, issue 63
danger
keep out!
town Christmas tree
Failed Haiku, issue 37, January 2019
another snowman
adopted son
gets my eyes
Failed Haiku, issue 37, January 2019
street musician
the giver is wearing
earphones
Failed Haiku, issue 36, December 2018
frosty evening at the station
somebody`s hand
into my pocket
Failed Haiku, issue 36, December 2018
family tree
orphan is hugging
a birch
Failed Haiku, issue 36, December 2018
charm bracelet
the beads
from the different husbands
Failed Haiku, issue 36, December 2018
Under the Basho, Poet`s personal best, 2019
nose-to-nose
looking into each other`s
single eye
Failed haiku, issue 34, October 2018
Under the Basho 2018, Poet`s personal best
like father, like son
big and little
dippers
Failed Haiku, issue 34, October 2018
arithmetic my son always mentions infinity
Under the Basho 2018
crawls out of the frame silly moon
Under the Basho 2018
sunset horizon stitch after the surgery
Under the Basho 2018
leaf-fall I have no time to read all of you
Under the Basho 2018
noon in the town park
falling in love
with a fountain
Presence, issue 62
well, people wear torn jeans
I find an excuse
for your socks
highway
in front of the window
driving my nerves