Queens Haiku

 1.

Jackson Heights morning—
a sari, a hijab, jeans—
worlds pass on one street.

2.
Planes hum over homes,
JFK wings slice the sky—
journeys overhead.

3.
Flushing food steam speaks
Mandarin, Korean spice—
no sign needs English.

4.
Corona Park wide—
kites tangle with unisphere,
laughter in twelve tongues.

5.
A Greek grocer sings
old songs on Astoria—
feta and romance.

6.
Jamaica dances
to the rhythm of patois—
buses bounce with bass.

7.
Sunnyside quiet—
cats sunbathe on fire escapes,
newsprint on doorsteps.

8.
Little Guyana
glows with gold and red saris—
oxtail, curry, peace.

9.
At Rockaway Beach,
a surfer’s dream collides with
a pigeon’s lunch quest.

10.
Queens Boulevard roars—
pedestrian prayers rise
with every crossing.

11.
Elmhurst's tiny shop—
behind beads and incense smoke,
fortune cookies crisp.

12.
In Forest Hills, still
remnants of grand tennis cheers
echo through green shade.

13.
College Point sunrise,
rosy light on quiet docks—
fishermen sip steam.

14.
Woodside trains rattle
above lumpia vendors—
rice paper in breeze.

15.
Auburndale whispers
of old gardens and screened doors—
quiet in the grid.

16.
Queensbridge’s beat drops
from windows cracked just enough—
a borough in verse.

17.
Baisley Pond still sleeps—
a heron stalks what’s unseen,
still in city rush.

18.
Masala and jazz
spill together on one stoop—
neighbors call by name.

19.
Ridgewood brick and dusk—
backyards hum with summer smoke,
cans clink in salute.

20.
Long Island City
blinks awake at river’s edge—
glass teeth in the sun.

21.
In Douglaston green
a child counts bees on petals—
city, but barely.

22.
Queens, queen of them all—
melting pot, yes, but more:
spice, sound, sky, and soul.

23.
Korean BBQ
smokes under subway shadows—
laughter, charcoal, meat.

24.
A bookstore in Bayside
sells stories in five languages—
pages turn the same.

25.
No skyline needed—
Queens thrives in mosaic light,
built from every root.