HAIKU TRAIN
Substack’s Longest Haiku Train
INTRODUCTION
This began as a simple conversation with Fiona Bridges as it about whether it was even possible to trace the longest haiku train, or if such a thing had ever truly been gathered in one place. The idea hovered somewhere between curiosity and impossibility. I admitted I didn’t have one to point to most of my encounters with haiku came in fragments, restacks and passing notes. Connected, perhaps but never fully held together.
The next thread unfolded in conversation with pm . After brainstorming ideas together, Instead of searching for the longest chain, we decided to build one. Something intentional. Something living. Because to search would be tedious, scattered across timelines and memory but to create would be immediate, communal, and open.
So we kept it simple:
Keep it fresh.
Keep it open.
Keep it inclusive.
AND SO, THE HAIKU TRAIN BEGAN
Writers and poets stepped in, each offering a moment, some beginning anew, others continuing a line. What formed was not rigid, but alive: an open thread where anyone could enter, respond, and extend the rhythm.
A haiku, at its core, is a quiet moment made visible, an ancient Japanese form that distills experience into a few syllables, yet somehow holds entire seasons within its brevity. It is less about saying more, and more about seeing clearly.
This Haiku Train gathers those moments. Each voice steps forward briefly, then passes the line along. What emerges is not just a collection, but a shared cadence, a single thread woven from many perspectives.
THE HAIKU TRAIN
morning light spills soft
across windows half-open
the day waits outside
the day waits outside
carrying promises to sing
open the door
the day waits outside
with dew on quiet petals,
a squirrel looks inside
the day waits outside
but inside it’s raining
rain will bring new shoots
the day waits outside
I am snuggled in the bed,
it can keep waiting
It can keep waiting.
Only midnight knows my name.
Moon marks escape route.
It can keep waiting.
This is my priority.
Nurturing comes first.
Nurturing comes first
I am the last to remain
a petal in the wind
A petal in the wind
Drifts softly with your secret
I kiss it, love pinned
A petal in the wind.
Flowers there, checking thunder,
rain holds its charm, now.
Rain holds its charm now,
it can help life bloom, anew,
wash the ghosts away
rain holds its charm, now.
today the rain sheds its tears,
fear not, the droplets bring forth the flowers,
thus those same flowers share our smiles…
Rain holds its charm, now
Only sun shall warm some more.
Face towards the light.
Rain holds its charm, now,
Trees remember their old roots,
Leaves dance on branches
buds slowly open
light rehearses quiet names,
morning keeps them unspoken
the day waits outside
scarecrows hold their quiet watch
over waking fields
the abyssal mind
sovereignty and brokenness,
the wind speaks in silence
The day waits outside
The supernova in it’s valiant form
The energy is infectious
Energy takes hold
Negativity dissolves
Substack carries me
Typed but never sent
The draft knows more than I do
It keeps my secrets
Evening brings a slow rhythm
After a fun filled,
Crammed, and pleasurable Day.
Crammed, and pleasurable day
Last day of vacay
Have to get everything in
Have to get everything in
can be a tight squeeze
sometimes that’s half the fun, though
Crammed and pleasurable Day
As love met with work;
passion met with pleasure
As love met with work
Clarity met with focus
Something real began
With the sun kissing my body
i absorb the rays of equinox
sweet vitamin D
Passion met pleasure
Rope met with skin, you inside
You are in control
After a fun filled
Day on Red Sand Beach in May
Wish I could have stayed
We locked eyes at first
Truly I thought you were mine
Life had other plans.
Hands resting on keys
Eyes on Jackie and Shadow
Replays on Big Bear
Your voice on this train
So melodious to hear
Calls us all forward
Calls us all forward
I find my own voices catches,
words struggle to form
Calls us all forward
till even the horizon
leaned in to listen
Leaned in to listen.
The phone held its silence with me.
Nothing, but still align.
Leaned in to listen
What did I hear?
The sound of sea in a shell
The sound of sea in a shell
Though faint, will teach you
The art of being still.
The sound of sea in a shell
Tells me hope’s alive
Whispering, comforting me
Whispering, comforting me
While you hold me in your arms
When the night feels cold
Daylight saving time
Comes again on Sunday night
Dusk after dinner
CONCLUSION
What began as a question became a chain. What felt scattered found rhythm. And what could have remained individual expressions became something shared held together by a simple act: to receive a line and carry it forward.
Each writer arrived not to claim the page, but to continue it. To pause within a moment, shape it and release it onward. In that exchange, authorship shifts from ownership to participation.
This train is not defined by its length alone, but by the movement within it the subtle turns in imagery, the shifts in tone, the way one voice dissolves into another without ever fully disappearing.
And even here, it does not end.
Because somewhere beyond this page, another line is waiting. Another voice is standing just outside the door.
The train doesn’t end where it stops—
it continues with whoever chooses to carry the next line.
Final line to continue:
The silence passes through us
© [Easy Weezy] 2026
 | A guest post by
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 | A guest post by
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 | A guest post by
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This was so fun!!! I love how it all came together 😍
Wow it's stunning💛💛Everyone participated with so much zeal 'n love💛Thanks a lot for carrying this journey...You all are truly a lovely, talented team 💛💛💛Lots of love 💛💛💛And a heartfelt thanks to @easyweezy for bringing this train and idea💛💛