Coneflower, Minneapolis, Minnesota, July 2008, photo © 2008-2009 by QuoinMonkey. All rights reserved.
This is the sequel to red Ravine’s haiku (one-a-day), a practice born from reading Clark Strand’s Seeds from a Birch Tree: Writing Haiku and the Spiritual Journey during a year-long Writing Intensive with Natalie Goldberg in Taos, New Mexico. Last year we had a great response from our readers to the practice of writing a haiku or senryu each day, and wanted to continue the practice into the New Year.
The idea for the sequel post came after doing further research on the history of haiku. This year’s challenge is to co-create and build on the poems of other haiku writers, a kind of word play running through the poetic forms of tanka and renga.
haiku & senryu (part one)
Haiku uses simple, direct language, words that evoke a season, and usually incorporates a cutting or pivot word, so that one half of a haiku seems to speak to the other. According to Patterns In Poetry, haiku is closely tied to the Japanese aesthetic of Yugen and the spirituality of Buddhism. It is written in a 17-syllable form (usually three lines of 5-7-5) that looks deceptively simple. Yet if you read the work of the masters like Basho, Buson, and Issa, wandering poets who lived during Japan’s Edo-period (1600-1868), it becomes clear that the practice of haiku can take years to master.
Senryu is similar to haiku but strays from seasonal or nature themes. According to Simply Haiku, senryu focuses on people and portrays characteristics of human beings and foibles, and the psychology of the human mind. Senryu can express human misfortunes or the hardships of humanity, and even when they depict living things or inanimate objects, human attributes are emphasized.
What both haiku and senryu have in common is that they derive from a form of Japanese court poetry called tanka.
Characteristics of haiku:
-
17 syllables, 3 lines (with variations for language differences)
-
Simple, direct, non-metaphorical language
-
Captures a transitory insight or moment in time called satori or the aha moment
-
Contains a kigo, an image of nature that evokes a particular season
-
Contains a cutting or pivot word that turns the movement of the poem
-
Based on experience, speaks of the common, in the moment, just as it is
tanka (part two)
Tanka, the oldest Japanese poetry form, was often written to explore religious or courtly themes and had a structure of five lines with a 5-7-5-7-7 syllable structure. One person would contribute the first three lines (5-7-5) of the tanka, and a different author would complete the poem by composing a 7-7 section and adding a pivot point such as in this tanka from George Knox at Aha! Poetry:
in the check-out line
a worn face ahead of me
turns tentatively. . .
realities of desire
fade in final reckoning
-tanka by George Knox
There is an excerpt from an article, Come Pivot With Me by Jane Reichhold which explains the pivot point or bridge in this way:
The use of a pivot word is a beloved technique from tanka, still being used after 1,300 years, in that form and its much younger grandchild — haiku (only 3 centuries old).
One of the trademarks of a tanka (besides the traditional five lines of 5-7-5-7-7 onji — syllables) is a short poetic statement depicting nature (here it may seem much like something you could call a haiku) which is linked to a designated feeling or emotional attitude of the author. This latter aspect is a basic one dividing the two forms today.
By expressing emotional feelings tanka affirms a connectedness between something unseen but real — our feelings — with the observable world around us. Tanka gives the mind a picture which can, if it is successful, joins for and evokes a felt emotional state.
Characteristics of tanka
-
31 syllables, 5 lines
-
Write the first section of a tanka (5-7-5), similar to a haiku.
-
Another person picks up the first 3 lines and writes a response (or continuation) by composing two lines of 7-7 syllables.
-
Can reflect nature or lean toward senryu
-
Emotional, contemplative, imaginative, reflective, written to be chanted
Here’s a final example of classic tanka from the same site, translated from the Kokinshu by Donald Keene, and written by Anonymous:
Because there was a seed
A pine has grown even here
On these barren rocks:
If we really love our love
What can keep us from meeting?
-tanka by Anonymous
renga (part three)
Renga (linked elegance) is a form of linked poetry which evolved from tanka, the oldest Japanese poetry form. In renga’s 800 year history it has gone through many ideological changes. (And it was Basho who, after 500 years, snipped off the first three lines of renga to form haiku.)
In renga, one person would often contribute the first three lines (5-7-5) of the poetic chain and a different author would complete the chain by composing a 7-7 section. Then another author would build on the previous 7-7, with another 5-7-5 passage. This chaining of verses or renga, could sometimes add up to hundreds of linked tanka.
The first part of the poem, called hokku or “starting verse,” frequently sets the tone for the rest of the poem, and the authors of hokku often earned the respect and admiration of their fellow poets. By the 19th century, largely through the work of Masaoka Shiki, hokku began to be written and read as individual poems. From the word hokku derives our word haiku.
Characteristics of renga:
-
Write the first section of a tanka (5-7-5), similar to a haiku. Hand this poem to another person.
-
Second person writes a response (or continuation) by composing two lines of 7-7 syllables. Then the second person hands off the completed tanka to a third person.
-
Third person writes another 3 lines of (5-7-5), beginning a new tanka
-
Continue in this way until you run out of time or feel that the poem is complete.
-
Contains a bridge or pivot point that links to the emotional element
-
Don’t try to force the storyline. When writing a response to the previous poem, focus only on the last section of the tanka, not the whole poem.
-
Think of each stanza as a springboard from which you are going to jump. The important thing to watch is what happens between the links.
haiku practice
Feel free to drop a haiku into this space anytime, day or night. Or join the word play and collaborative effort of tanka and renga. I’m a novice at the latter two; the first time I read about tanka and renga was when I started the research on this post. I thought it might be fun to explore these ancient forms of linked poetry, and see where the journey takes us.
Also, it’s okay to experiment, break form, and move out of the traditional structures. English syllables translate differently than onji. And according to Richard MacDonald (from his essay What is Tanka?), Japanese poetry is syllabic by nature and not metrical or rhymed, because like the French language, the Japanese language lacks stress accents.
There are different schools of thought about how rigid one should be in counting syllables. From what I have read, it is a matter of personal taste whether to stay close to the Japanese model, or stray from it for personal reasons or aesthetics in order to incorporate the heritage of the West into poetic work. The most important thing is to have fun with it. Last year’s practice was so enjoyable, I can’t wait to see the new collection we have by December!
Option 1 – haiku
-
Drop in a haiku or senryu, 17 syllables, 3 lines (with variations for language differences)
Option 2 – tanka
-
Grab another poet’s haiku, and write the 2 additional 7 syllable lines to create a tanka
Option 3 – renga
- Grab a tanka created by 2 other poets, and, focusing on the last 2 lines, start the beginning of a new tanka (5-7-5) to be completed by the next poet
DEFINITIONS:
bridge — word, or words leading the reader from the nature image to the statement of emotion
cutting (kireji) — Punctuation mark or word that divides a haiku into two parts. A cutting can be a hyphen, ellipses, colon or a word.
kigo — A seasonal reference in haiku. Usually a kigo has accumulated resonances and associations with earlier haiku and Japanese aesthetics about time.
onji — Japanese syllables. The language differences between Japanese and English are vast and complex. Converting onji to syllables may not always be a one for one process.
pivot word — A word in a haiku poem that changes, or turns the direction of the poem
renga — Japanese poetic form made up of linked tanka verse; the word renga means “linked elegance”
satori — A moment of insight or reflection that emerges in a Haiku poem (usually around the cutting or pivot word)
tanka — Japanese poetic form that is made up of 5 lines with a 5-7-5-7-7 syllable count. Haiku derives from tanka.
yugen — Japanese term for beauty that suggests mystery, depth and a tinge of sadness
RESOURCES USED IN WRITING THIS PIECE:
- Patterns In Poetry – great basic site for haiku, tanka, renga. Distills everything down to the simplest terms. Very helpful when first learning about the concepts.
- Aha! Poetry – In depth reviews and one of the best Internet resources for haiku. Edited by Jane Reichhold; features articles, advice, critiques, contests.
- What Is Tanka? — an essay by Richard MacDonald at Aha! Poetry
- Tanka vs Haiku — by Jane Reichhold at Aha! Poetry
- Seeds from a Birch Tree: Writing Haiku and the Spiritual Journey by Clark Strand — wonderful book for learning about the spiritual practice of haiku and the inspiration for red Ravine’s first haiku (one-a-day) post
- Simply Haiku: A Quarterly Journal of Japanese Short Form Poetry – original contributions from new poets
- The Haiku Society of America – educational resources, contests, and magazine. Founded in 1968 to promote the writing and appreciation of haiku in English.
-posted on red Ravine, Monday, February 9th, 2009
Holy smokes, I’ve read it twice now and my brain is spinning.
THAT is so much more information that I remember from college writing class more than 30 years ago. Thanks!
Now to get to work on trying one…
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the fresh walking stick
adds a beat to the rhythm
of the mountain path
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Clark, what a pleasure. Thank you for stopping by. And for the inspiration of your book, Seeds from a Birch Tree. You made my day. Okay, taking a first stab at tanka. Got to jump off some time.
___________________
the fresh walking stick
adds a beat to the rhythm
of the mountain path…
gnarled hole in a yellow ash
quells the newly broken heart
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Clark,
I hadn’t thought about haiku for years (since grade school when we learned the strict 5-7-5 pattern). And then, at a Natalie Goldberg workshop two years ago, we read Seeds From a Birch Tree. You broke haiku open for me.
Now it is another source of writing I use to listen. To quiet myself. To become grounded.
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I go to a community education exercise class at an elementary school every Monday. Last night I arrived early, and had time to read the writing projects on a bulletin board–all of the work haiku.
I was mostly glad to see children writing in this ancient form– that someone is teaching it. There were even a few haiku that made the leap in the third line.
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WOW — THE Clark Strand?! My HERO. Thanks for starting me off on a life-long love affair with haiku. Really.
looking parched and dry
the sleepy brown grass lies still
dreaming thunderstorms
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This a a lot to digest, but here goes….
looking parched and dry
the sleepy brown grass lies still
dreaming thunderstorms
waiting silently with hopes
for what is beneath the clouds
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You continue to amaze me, QM, with the patient, well-researched posts you provide and how much light they shed. Thank you.
I was struck by the definition for tanka and how haiku derived from it. Tanka seems like a conversation between two wise old friends. Interesting that the conversation between two came before the meditation of one.
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Let me reiterate what breathepeace wrote…WOW – The Clark Strand? I think reading that book started a whole bunch of us down the haiku path. Thanks for “Seeds From A Birch Tree.”
I like the counting of syllables and the distillation of an scene into its essence.
alittlediddy, great job. QuoinMonkey, the best distillation of haiku, renga, and tanka that I have ever read (and I just finished a book on the subject). You took the complexity and made it much simpler. Thanks.
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And I too was delighted to read Clark Strand’s haiku. Ah, that’s how it is done.
I’d like to pick up a few more books of haiku. How silly of me to not do so yet try to write it myself. I’d never do that with other forms of writing.
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Like some of you here, my head is spinning. Lots of info!! I’m familiar with the haiku, senryu, and the tanka. However, the renga is more challenging as I’ve never written one before but have certainly contributed to one! lol
And wonderful pieces, everyone! I like how we’re starting out! 🙂
Here’s my offering for the day:
beneath silver skies
trees embrace shyly, leaves brush
aside their blushes
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Thanks so much for all the kind words. I still write haiku, though only as a practice, and I publish little poetry. I have a small discussion group that meets Thursday nights in Woodstock, New York, where I’ve lived since 1996. That group was the inspiration for my next book, which comes out from Doubleday at the end of next month. Called HOW TO BELIEVE IN GOD: Whether You Believe in Religion or Not, it offers a post-tribal, mostly Buddhist reading of 30 of the most famous Bible passages and stories. Like Seeds from a Birch Tree, it contains a lot of nature writing.
I’m also starting a blog–WholeEarthGod.com–that’ll go online in a couple of weeks. It welcomes contributions from people of all faiths (or none at all). These days I spend the majority of my time writing or teaching about a subject I call “Green Meditation,” an environmental-based approach to spiritual practice which owes nearly everything to my years of haiku-writing practice. Great to see such wonderful things happening on this blog. Keep up the good work!
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Clark,
I’m looking forward to your new book; the title alone has me hooked. I am already “off the hook” for not understanding who/what God is. After decades of church attendance, I still don’t get it.
We have a wonderful bookstore in Minneapolis called Birchbark Books. It’s owned by the Ojibwe author, Louise Erdrich. I’ve called them, and have your book on pre-order. Thanks for mentioning to all your “Seeds” fans.
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QM, thank you so much for your article. Great information. I’m going to experiment with tanka.
Clark, your book had a big impact on our writing intensive. I didn’t think I liked haiku so I didn’t think I’d like Seeds from a Birch. Ha. Surprise. I loved it. And I’ve been doing a daily haiku practice ever since, for over two years. What a delight to find you here on Red Ravine! And to have a chance to say thank you, thank you so much, for Seeds and for the gift of haiku.
I love seeing the haikus in this conversation thread. Here’s my contribution.
dead dog in water
we walk by full of our lives
this close to the edge
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dead dog in water
we walk by full of our lives
this close to the edge
cautious tip-toe on tightrope
discovering wings, we fly
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Clark, thanks so much for stopping by again. And for filling us in on your latest projects. We will definitely look for your book at the end of next month. And keep us posted on when your new blog goes live. ybonesy and I’d love to check it out and to keep our readers informed as well. I’m intrigued by the “Green Meditation” and how it sprang from your haiku practice. Again, thanks from ybonesy and I for your kinds words. I’m particularly heartened by seeing how a writer’s early work, such as your Seeds from a Birch Tree, continues to live on long after it is written. And how the early work informs the later work.
I also want to take a moment to extend my gratitude to Natalie Goldberg who introduced us to Clark Strand’s book (and countless other writers, poets, and artists). Everything she has taught me about having a practice, not only Writing Practice, but haiku, meditation, mandalas, art…whatever we make a practice…has given me so much ground, structure, and inspiration in my life. Deep Bow. Thank you.
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I had to do some light research about who Clark Strand is. I mean, the name was so familiar to me, and what do you know? I now feel silly for being the last person to know know who Clark Strand is!! 😛
I am thrilled that you joined us in the ‘ku practice here on redRavine, Clark! And it’s nice meeting you! 🙂
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Thanks, everyone, for embracing this new post. And thank you, yb and Bob, for your kind words about the distillation of centuries of history into this short blog post. I was telling yb yesterday what a difficult post it was to write. Partly because I am just getting familiar with these concepts myself. And partly, honing it down to one post. So I really appreciate that people are embracing trying the tanka, and, hopefully, moving on to the renga as we go along. It’s all new to me but I am having fun with it.
Bob, what book did you just finish about haiku, renga, tanka? I wondered if it was one of the ones that breathepeace left in a comment in mid-January (LINK). I want to purchase the ones she mentioned on haiku and poetry. (Oh, and just as a sidenote, the Silko book is one of my faves, well-written and the structure is so different than anything else I’ve read.)
From breathepeace’s comment:
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beneath silver skies
trees embrace shyly, leaves brush
aside their blushes
rain drips off white wooden eaves
a dark childhood memory
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QM, that is a beautiful completion to my ‘ku. And this is a fabulous post, albeit it does take a lot of time to digest! 😛
I can’t wait to see how this post will evolve throughout this year! I’m sure it will be lovely and fun. 🙂
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Awesome post. I’ve read the Silko book, too, and it is an all time favorite. I just put breathepeace’s other recommendation into my library’s hold system. So it looks like I’ll have some yummy reading in a few days. Thanks.
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I wanted to come back to this post & I must say, this is so new to me. I’m really looking forward to this new feature!
Thanks to QM & Clark Strand for introducing me to these practices! I have written many haiku, but now I want to do more & more!
Love this! D
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early laughter-green
grows between a warm change
time never walks past love
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early laughter-green
grows between a warm change
time never walks past love
it is written in the skies
a heart shaped moon in your eyes
***
QM, thank you for this course in ‘ku.
You are distilling the wisdom for us.
Clark, I am stunned to read your haiku and hear
about your latest book. What a joyful surprise
to learn about where you are in the world… right here on
redRavine!
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a moment to write
after tucking in three girls
i choose sleep instead
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hiding in the news
on poets and presidents
poem for abe lincoln
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squirreled tree
encases words of love
down memory lane
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@Laura: Lovely completion to my senryu. 🙂
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Last night our Poetry Group celebrated 1 year of reading poetry and sitting in silence together. The last poet to round out the year was Billy Collins. These 3 haiku sprang from the silence between poems. I scribbled them down with a Space Pen in a lime green SuperGirl notepad I borrowed from Liz. Gratitude to the lineage of poets and writers who came before us.
_______________
LINEAGE
sitting on the couch
minding my own business
listening to a poem
Billy Collins hums,
“startling brevity of life,”
streetlight shines like moon
wandering poets
silently walk the mountains
all writers as one
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[…] Gratitude to all who have loved. And Happy Valentine’s Day to our readers, straight from the heart. A few more related posts, and more thoughts on love: Valentine (Nebraska), Goodnight Valentine’s, valentine haiku, WRITING TOPIC: KINDS OF LOVE, haiku 2 (one-a-day). […]
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Was terribly busy these past few days and didn’t get to a computer.
Here’s mine for today:
not yet sunrise
lifting gray pages from clouds
wind and blackbirds
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not yet sunrise
lifting gray pages from clouds
wind and blackbirds
giving way to bright sunshine
celebrate family, friends
Sorry if I messed this up for you Lotus, I was going to change it some, but this just flowed out…D
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@alittlediddy: I really like the twist you got there, especially the thought of “giving way to bright sunshine.” I’m glad you caught that feeling I was hinting at! 😀
Here’s mine for today:
jagged crevice
seeks to be covered in mud
cold shoulder
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diddy, I think you’re doing a great job on the tanka. It’s so much fun for me to read these. Thanks to all who are contributing to this post. I look forward to a great year.
________________
jagged crevice
seeks to be covered in mud
cold shoulder
wraps a veiled, shroud-like shadow;
Monday’s blues turn to Tuesday
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a moment to write
after tucking in three girls
i choose sleep instead
slip into the winter’s dark
three girls grow up in my dream
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@QM: I too am having lots of fun with the tanka that we build upon the haiku/senryu. 🙂 It’s almost like freedom of association.
mountain stands erect
as landmark for fishermen
through the claws of waves
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early laughter-green
grows between a warm change
time never walks past love
it is written in the skies
a heart shaped moon in your eyes
I think of your eyes:
like the winter sea, and shape
my heart by the moon
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mountain stands erect
as landmark for fishermen
through the claws of waves
man still strives for survival
nature prevents the landslide
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staring at fire flames
dancing to the harmony
lost in the music
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stranger, so happy to see you here again. And wonderful that you moved into the linked poetry of renga. Thank you. I’m going to follow your lead.
_____________
early laughter-green
grows between a warm change
time never walks past love
it is written in the skies
a heart shaped moon in your eyes
I think of your eyes:
like the winter sea, and shape
my heart by the moon…
sirens wake to crashing waves,
eerie melody haunts me.
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early laughter-green
grows between a warm change
time never walks past love
it is written in the skies
a heart shaped moon in your eyes
I think of your eyes:
like the winter sea, and shape
my heart by the moon…
sirens wake to crashing waves,
eerie melody haunts me.
heartstrings cut shorter
the distance of your voice
alluring in charm, bliss
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pug on a long leash
lunges for horse pie morsels
no, i yank her back
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february wind
delivers whopping ear aches
when i walk hatless
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I’m going to try tanka with ybonesy’s last entry. I apologize in advance.
february wind
delivers whopping ear aches
when i walk hatless
still, i reflect that it is
better than going earless
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@Robert: Hehe, that made me laugh. Your sense of humor always leaks through in your senryu…and now with a tanka! 😛
balmy wind peels off
honeysuckle petals–
a butterfly
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pug on a long leash
lunges for horse pie morsels
no, I yank her back
playing follow the leader
in hopes of finding a cake
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diddy and Robert, both delightful tanka coming out of my original haiku.
I love the humor, and yes Robert, it would be worse to walk earless, wouldn’t hear the birds and the horses, they always greet us with loud snorts. Although I felt a bit like I was resenting my ears by the end of the walk, they were hurting so much.
diddy, Sony would love pie or cake made of digested grass. And my big dogs love to roll in it. What could be the appeal? I wonder.
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yb, because it is delicious (to them, of course) & full of nutrients. Trust me, been there with Abbey! D
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Robert Morse, so happy to see you. Your tanka does make me smile. Like Lotus mentions, your humor always shines through. 8)
______________-
cold puffs of hot breath
snowflake like a tumbleweed
flies off the green hood
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lonely chirp
disrupts the turquoise sky
flight of mind
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sending messages
colorful frayed prayer flags
I hear only wind
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6 inches of snow
tufts of white blow off branches
kindling spring fever
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[Hi all, nice to be here too.]
early laughter-green
grows between a warm change
time never walks past love
it is written in the skies
a heart shaped moon in your eyes
I think of your eyes:
like the winter sea, and shape
my heart by the moon…
sirens wake to crashing waves,
eerie melody haunts me.
heartstrings cut shorter
the distance of your voice
alluring in charm, bliss
will I know, upon some far,
galactic shore, surfing still
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a~lotus, may I add a little?
beneath silver skies
trees embrace shyly, leaves brush
aside their blushes;
shyness disappears
and color returns to cheek
romance becomes bold
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Oops!
I didn’t do that correctly…did a 5,7,5 instead of 7,7
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
6 inches of snow
tufts of white blow off branches
kindling spring fever…
longing to feel warmth again
with eyes closed I picture you
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february wind
delivers whopping ear aches
when i walk hatless;
why do i treat myself so?
now i feel sorry for me
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[…] -related to posts: Make Positive Effort For The Good, haiku 2 (one-a-day) […]
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oliverowl, so happy you are back! Liz was glad to talk to you today. How do you like the tanka and renga? I am finding it kind of fun.
_________________
6 inches of snow
tufts of white blow off branches
kindling spring fever…
longing to feel warmth again
with eyes closed I picture you
hiking Midwest woods
walking stick made of ironwood
punches through the ice
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ybonesy and all, there’s a new comment thread feature from WordPress that I just turned on. It might help with the haiku, tanka, renga threads in this post. Let’s see how we like it. It does seem to confuse some of the old comments though. With the new feature, you have to reply to the post of the person you are speaking to in order to get the nest. Not sure if we’ll like it yet or not. I’m replying now to a haiku from diddy from a few days ago. Well, we’ll try it out! Our readers can let us know if they like the comment threading. I think it’s supposed to help with the fact that they took the numbered comments away.
——————
staring at fire flames
dancing to the harmony
lost in the music
chimney draft, a single spark
escapes into the dark night
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ybonesy and readers, I just tried the new comment thread feature on a tanka reply to a haiku from diddy from the February 17, 2009 at 9:42 pm. It took the comment and moved it up about 5 days back. Not sure if I’m going to like that the comments are jumping around in time with the nesting. The time jumps are confusing. Seems like continuing linear commenting but adding the thread line might be more helpful. May turn the threading off again. We’ll see after today.
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[…] Postscript: For those of you in Albuquerque, you can get Entenmann’s Donuts in chocolate, powdered sugar, or glazed at Keller’s Farm Stores. -related to posts WRITING TOPIC — VELVEETA CHEESE and haiku 2 (one-a-day). […]
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qm, I’m feeling challenged; and a good feeling of stretching to wrap my mind around these new (to me,) forms of poetry. Hope you approve of mey “add-ons.”
hiking Midwest woods
walking stick made of ironwood
punches through the ice…
piercing into a cold heart
that will not accept my love
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@_@ <— My shocked expression, except that that this time, it’s a mild one. I thought something had happened to the comments section until QM explained what happened. Thanks for the heads up! To be perfectly honest, I like the comment feature before all of that. lol
brain teaser
like a child’s pinwheel
hot day turns windy
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early laughter-green
grows between a warm change
time never walks past love
it is written in the skies
a heart shaped moon in your eyes
I think of your eyes:
like the winter sea, and shape
my heart by the moon…
sirens wake to crashing waves,
eerie melody haunts me.
heartstrings cut shorter
the distance of your voice
alluring in charm, bliss
will I know, upon some far,
galactic shore, surfing still
nights I write away
damp smudges sealed in bottles:
puckered fish in nets
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A~Lotus, yes, I agree. So does ybonesy. We went back to our old comment thread. The nesting is too confusing because it jumps around in time. Too hard to follow once you get a number of comments going. It also looks a lot cleaner without the nesting. So it’s back to business as usual!
oliverowl, yes! I’m keeping the renga going.
_________________
6 inches of snow
tufts of white blow off branches
kindling spring fever…
longing to feel warmth again
with eyes closed I picture you
hiking Midwest woods
walking stick made of ironwood
punches through the ice…
piercing into a cold heart
that will not accept my love
confused robins fly
gray rabbit munches brown leaves
nothing goes to waste
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early laughter-green
grows between a warm change
time never walks past love
it is written in the skies
a heart shaped moon in your eyes
I think of your eyes:
like the winter sea, and shape
my heart by the moon…
sirens wake to crashing waves,
eerie melody haunts me.
heartstrings cut shorter
the distance of your voice
alluring in charm, bliss
will I know, upon some far,
galactic shore, surfing still
nights I write away
damp smudges sealed in bottles:
puckered fish in nets;
the loss is too much to bear,
floating behind hollow eyes.
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the darkening sky
carries the promise of rain
with each shade of gray
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early laughter-green
grows between a warm change
time never walks past love
it is written in the skies
a heart shaped moon in your eyes
I think of your eyes:
like the winter sea, and shape
my heart by the moon…
sirens wake to crashing waves,
eerie melody haunts me.
heartstrings cut shorter
the distance of your voice
alluring in charm, bliss
will I know, upon some far,
galactic shore, surfing still
nights I write away
damp smudges sealed in bottles:
puckered fish in nets;
the loss is too much to bear,
floating behind hollow eyes.
weaving from afar
is how we travel through dreams–
koi in silver lakes
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@oliverowl: Add away! 8) I’m glad and flattered that my haiku and senryu could be used as a creative springboard! I try to be subtle yet mysterious and open at the same time. 🙂
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[…] course would be to allow the Virgen to become the tree, as she is already. -related to posts haiku 2 (one-a-day), Mary In Minnesota (haiku for yb), Virgin Mary Sightings, and The Virgin Mary Appears On A […]
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http://alotus-poetry.livejournal.com/64807.html
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the darkening sky
carries the promise of rain
with each shade of gray,
the sun shines from the center
of a wounded cottonwood
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Lovely. 🙂
finding my sea legs
with simple five-seven-five
then i’ll try tanka
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chasing jackrabbit
tan mongrel trots through sagebrush
following it’s scent
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the darkening sky
carries the promise of rain
with each shade of gray,
the sun shines from the center
of a wounded cottonwood
wrapped around hands,
one finds rings of promise
broken tree bark
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@yb: I’m so happy that you’ve been joining us for all of this Japanese form challenge! 🙂 I’ve been enjoying your haiku and senryu.
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6 inches of snow
tufts of white blow off branches
kindling spring fever…
longing to feel warmth again
with eyes closed I picture you
hiking Midwest woods
walking stick made of ironwood
punches through the ice…
piercing into a cold heart
that will not accept my love
confused robins fly
gray rabbit munches brown leaves
nothing goes to waste
as nature and emotions
get recycled by seasons
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deoxygenated
garbled messages inflate
to sheep over fence
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the darkening sky
carries the promise of rain
with each shade of gray,
the sun shines from the center
of a wounded cottonwood
wrapped around hands,
one finds rings of promise
broken tree bark;
skin wrinkled and creased with age
releases bountiful seeds
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chasing jackrabbit
tan mongrel trots through sagebrush
following it’s scent
the seeking can offer more
peace of mind than the finding
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red bird on thin wire
freefloats above the flailing
human suffering
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http://alotus-poetry.livejournal.com/65132.html
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we rise from ashes
gravity on crosses
then return to ashes
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wind whips through bare elms
storm brewing from Wyoming
Heartland hunkers down
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chasing jackrabbit
tan mongrel trots through sagebrush
following its scent
the seeking can offer more
peace of mind than the finding
cave bear hibernates
two cubs spring from her loins
February birth
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Winter taunts flowers
With days like spring; early buds
Struck down by new cold.
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the darkening sky
carries the promise of rain
with each shade of gray,
the sun shines from the center
of a wounded cottonwood
wrapped around hands,
one finds rings of promise
broken tree bark;
skin wrinkled and creased with age
releases bountiful seeds
buried deep,
seeds take root and stretch,
circling a pond
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the darkening sky
carries the promise of rain
with each shade of gray,
the sun shines from the center
of a wounded cottonwood
wrapped around hands,
one finds rings of promise
broken tree bark;
skin wrinkled and creased with age
releases bountiful seeds
buried deep,
seeds take root and stretch,
circling a pond
February snowstorm drips
concentric rings, wheel of life
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chasing jackrabbit
tan mongrel trots through sagebrush
following its scent
the seeking can offer more
peace of mind than the finding
cave bear hibernates
two cubs spring from her loins
February birth
cycle of life continues
once again, all life reborn
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the darkening sky
carries the promise of rain
with each shade of gray,
the sun shines from the center
of a wounded cottonwood
wrapped around hands,
one finds rings of promise
broken tree bark;
skin wrinkled and creased with age
releases bountiful seeds
buried deep,
seeds take root and stretch,
circling a pond
February snowstorm drips
concentric rings, wheel of life
lonely morning fish
ripples the quiet pond,
breaking sunlight
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[…] One of my dearest friends is from Artesia, and I can tell you that there’s a lot of goodness in this place. Generosity is produced here. -related to posts PRACTICE: Roadside Attractions – 15min, WRITING TOPIC — ROADSIDE ATTRACTIONS , and haiku 2 (one-a-day). […]
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[…] -related to post: haiku 2 (one-a-day) […]
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picking up speed
the wind races with dark clouds
moon sliver looks on
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snowpack covers roof
reflections of winter sun
long moonlight shadows
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Winter taunts flowers
With days like spring; early buds
Struck down by new cold.
On the south embankment of
the railway, first daffs shout SPRING!
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[…] to post: haiku 2 (one-a-day), PRACTICE – Roadside Attractions — 15min, What Is Your Totem […]
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heavy snow, strong winds
just last week the smell of spring
winter packs a punch
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in the wind
leaves from trees flutter on edge
sudden flap of wings
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sunrise crows calling
mild weather hints of springtime
life begins to boil
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past midnight
dust steals away eyes;
sudden awakening
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chasing jackrabbit
tan mongrel trots through sagebrush
following its scent
the seeking can offer more
peace of mind than the finding
cave bear hibernates
two cubs spring from her loins
February birth
cycle of life continues
once again, all life reborn
fresh perspective
between gnarls of trees, sieves of leaves
sunrise meets the lake
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Winter taunts flowers
With days like spring; early buds
Struck down by new cold.
On the south embankment of
the railway, first daffs shout SPRING!
hybrid tea roses
topped with bucketed snow hats
curse lingering frost
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heavy snow, strong winds
just last week the smell of spring
winter packs a punch;
thawed dreams of black-eyed susans,
restless thoughts of wanting more.
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heavy snow, strong winds
just last week the smell of spring
winter packs a punch;
thawed dreams of black-eyed susans,
restless thoughts of wanting more.
dreams of longing
tucked under lashes and lips–
words run towards margins
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I’m sharing two today:
feathers in the air,
distance makes trees soft to land
feet first then head
past sunset
from foliage top to root,
wings become earthbound
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green tips of iris
poke up from winter garden
testing for spring air
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[…] -related to post: haiku 2 (one-a-day) […]
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arch over table
angel wings holding my heart
wild orchid dreams
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sunny warm morning
practice flexibility
snow for tomorrow
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on a cloudy day
parabolic smiles intersect
line of gaze
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heavy snow, strong winds
just last week the smell of spring
winter packs a punch;
thawed dreams of black-eyed susans,
restless thoughts of wanting more.
dreams of longing
tucked under lashes and lips–
words run towards margins,
black and white letters jump off,
mind stops — scrambles to make sense.
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woodpecker awake
morning doves sing on branches
sun salutations
two tall red roses
side by side in a wall vase
waiting for water
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look out the window
juniper bush bobs and weaves
darn! a windy day
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small breeze waves spruce limbs
grey morning sky holds promise:
afternoon flurries
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sunshine through slits
the eyes flicker and hold peace
like unwritten notes
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heavy snow, strong winds
just last week the smell of spring
winter packs a punch;
thawed dreams of black-eyed susans,
restless thoughts of wanting more.
dreams of longing
tucked under lashes and lips–
words run towards margins,
black and white letters jump off,
mind stops — scrambles to make sense.
following signs (blindly),
racing around cul-de-sacs
the mind, unnerved
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heavy snow, strong winds
just last week the smell of spring
winter packs a punch;
thawed dreams of black-eyed susans,
restless thoughts of wanting more.
dreams of longing
tucked under lashes and lips–
words run towards margins,
black and white letters jump off,
mind stops — scrambles to make sense.
following signs (blindly),
racing around cul-de-sacs
the mind, unnerved
reaches for a sense of peace,
silent shelter from the storm.
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tinge of sunlight
branches heavy with leaves
sky and earth synthesize
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grey foggy morning
cottonwood branches reaching
through haze like blind men
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[…] Red Ravine (recommended) […]
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penetrating fog
icy sleet pings the window
where I sit and write
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breathepeace & QM: Wow, both of your haiku/senryu about the fog are lovely and deep. I enjoyed reading them!!
It’s funny as I too have a fog senryu:
before sunrise
fog clings to trees like cobwebs
joggers break through
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blown from shingled roofs
on windy walk to mailbox
snow flurries swirling
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Don’t say ‘bursting out’
Spring busts out! A jailbreak from
Old winter’s slammer.
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Robert Morse — Love your exuberant description of spring! Oh, how I wish that it was bustin’ out here!
We’re still in winter’s slammer …
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@breathepeace: Wow, really? You should deliver a package of snow to me!! I wouldn’t mind some!! 😛
@Robert: Lovin’ the humor! An unexpected twist, I like it! 8)
on the windshield
raindrops collide, weave around
legs of ladybug
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Oh, boy, Robert, we are still in winter’s slammer, too! It’s -2, icy and slick and snowy, and the wind howled all night long. It’s good to imagine that it’s Spring in another part of this country and the world.
Thanks to all who visit here. I so enjoy waking up every morning and reading new haiku, tanka, renga. It’s a great gift that you keep coming back!
________________________
crystals of cracked ice
sitting between two windows
contemplating Spring
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blown from shingled roofs
on windy walk to mailbox
snow flurries swirling,
black metal door frozen shut,
how will I read my letters?
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[…] to posts WRITING TOPIC – WINDOW, haiku 2 (one-a-day), late winter haiku, and WRITING TOPIC – NAMES OF […]
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dangling tree swing rope
long shadows across snow lawn
sun obscures full moon
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two bright full moons shine
from dark sky and calm water
only one ripples
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QM and breathepeace: Beautiful haiku! I think we all got the haiku/senryu fever going on as we are all walking in the same universe! Once again, I wrote a haiku that has the “moon” in it, just like the both of you!! I wrote it while playing with my magnetic words on my board a few minutes before I left work to go home. How cool is that?
a little storm
why night amuses the moon
open hope, little faith
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A~Lotus, it’s true, isn’t it? How we often write about the same things in nature, from opposite ends of the world, because nature works the same everywhere, bless her heart. Thank goodness for something that consistent and grounding around us. 8)
________________
winter storm over
temps 3 degrees and rising
moon sets in the west
writer at her desk
pondering the Universe
forgetting cold feet
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8) QM, I love feeling grounded. In a sense, I’m sure the use of nature in haiku is the “ground” for all kinds of life. I mean, if you look at the bible, God created the land to ground things on something that is fluid (sea). So, if the Japanese wrote haiku for hundreds of years, it is the ground for equilibrium, balance, and things that are not chaotic. It nurtures a sense of peace(fulness) and unity.
I hope that made sense to you! I just happen to get those Eureka moments where everything just clicks and fits together like a puzzle! lol 😛
—————————————————
chilly day in March
flip-flops back to the closet
sweaters go out
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use shovel or rake
winter-spring tug-o’-war game
caught in the middle
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cold rain, thick fog
edgy trees become softer
against passing firetruck
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The moon/June lovers
Falling from their lofty perch
Yelled ‘May day! May day!’
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rain showers
chaotic world becomes mute
under their songs
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I wrote 2 today! 8)
———————————–
smell of wet and cold
brushstrokes across the Orient
the heart cartwheels
gentle spring rain
voice accented with earth
a balm for heartache
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heavy snow, strong winds
just last week the smell of spring
winter packs a punch;
thawed dreams of black-eyed susans,
restless thoughts of wanting more.
dreams of longing
tucked under lashes and lips–
words run towards margins,
black and white letters jump off,
mind stops — scrambles to make sense.
following signs (blindly),
racing around cul-de-sacs
the mind, unnerved
reaches for a sense of peace,
silent shelter from the storm.
faint rainbow
storm leaves the sun in its wake
upon the relieved brow
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heavy snow, strong winds
just last week the smell of spring
winter packs a punch;
thawed dreams of black-eyed susans,
restless thoughts of wanting more.
dreams of longing
tucked under lashes and lips–
words run towards margins,
black and white letters jump off,
mind stops — scrambles to make sense.
following signs (blindly),
racing around cul-de-sacs
the mind, unnerved
reaches for a sense of peace,
silent shelter from the storm.
faint rainbow
storm leaves the sun in its wake
upon the relieved brow;
blue sky streaked with rainwater
prism changes everything.
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thief in the night
coats dust on doors of dreams
morning gives fresh view
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gray skies again
open rain curtains for rainbows
with a pinch of luck
P.S. Happy St. Patty’s Day, red Raviners!! 🙂 8)
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steam rising from cup
sleeping in leaves me groggy
got the morning blues
afternoon pulses
beginning of something new
worn thoughts letting go
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Happy St. Patty’s to you, too, lotus!
_______________________
gray skies again
open rain curtains for rainbows
with a pinch of luck
and a bucket of hard work,
we’ll all share the pot of gold!
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water beads on skin
out the window two leaves swirl
in the bone dry wind
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The moon/June lovers
Falling from their lofty perch
Yelled ‘May day! May day!’
Yet later that December,
set the Winter nights on fire.
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brighter days
trees never looked so greener
and fuller with nests
filled with aqua light,
the world in tie-dyed softness
adieu to rain
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@QM: That is a beautiful haiku: “water beads on skin”. 8)
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a thousand miles
walk by faith, nature, and art
beauty transcends human
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vernal equinox
morning freshness through the soul
sunburst in our eyes
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brevity
fantasies capture more meaning
than a poet’s pen
femininity
crescents on nails gone
pink flush
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P.S. Happy World Poetry Day! 🙂 What I wrote below is not a renga, haiku, or senryu. I was just doing 9-8-7 syllable count. 😀
World Poetry Day
science is logical common sense
poetry makes self more human
art is nature on canvas
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During these hard times
Why lean and mean? How about
Slender and tender?
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Wonderful, Robert. I’m going to try that!
A~Lotus, Happy World Poetry Day to you. And thanks for the commemorative poem. Gearing up for National Poetry Month coming up!
It’s been a great weekend here. Cool but sunny.
______________
finch feeder hopping,
two young squirrels take flying leaps —
oaks form Grand Canyon
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vernal equinox
morning freshness through the soul
sunburst in our eyes;
New Moon, stars out of hiding
blink across the Milky Way.
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three swans float on Sound
white moons, blue water, iced toes
stars bright in your eyes
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I think Robert owns the art of senryu with his sense of humor in the human condition and human nature. 8)
@QM: I am soooo ready for NaPoWriMo (for National Poetry Writing Month) myself! This will be my second time doing this challenge–a poem a day! Woohoo! 🙂 And plus, I’ll still be doing this haiku/senryu/renga challenge as well!
—————————————-
vernal equinox
morning freshness through the soul
sunburst in our eyes;
New Moon, stars out of hiding
blink across the Milky Way.
tangible yet far,
fantasies pinned on a star
like spilt milk
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@QM: For the last photo of the previous Haiku Daily Challenge, what is that tree called, if you don’t mind me asking? I’m trying to write a poem and it is somewhat significant as I dreamt about a tree like that during my nap today. I’d like to know! Thank you! 8) Once I finish with this poem, I’ll share it with you and yb. 🙂
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A~Lotus, the tree in red Ravine’s Haiku (one-a-day) (LINK) from last year is a river birch or water birch. There are several kinds of birches and this one likes to be in swampy areas or near water. I love the scaly, papery bark on the river birches. It’s in sharp contrast to some of the smoother bark on the white birch. I read you can make syrup from the insides of the river birch. And I’ve written poetry on some of the bark that has peeled off. It makes good paper in a pinch! Look forward to your poem when you complete it. Dreaming of the river birch sounds like a good way to spend a nap. 8)
____________
clouds melt into fog
another gray rainy day
Minnesota weeps
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Beautiful, Laura.
A~Lotus, I admire that you are tackling NaPoWriMo for the second year in a row. What a great poetry practice. You go!
__________________
vernal equinox
morning freshness through the soul
sunburst in our eyes;
New Moon, stars out of hiding
blink across the Milky Way.
tangible yet far,
fantasies pinned on a star
like spilt milk…
crying for what has been lost,
yearning for that yet to come.
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skies heavy with thought
yet sunlight pours through in halos
around birch trees
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@QM: Yes, I had a dream of a birch tree while I was sleeping. I would say that it was an interesting, yet surreal experience. More details to follow once I tidy up my poem so that it could make some sense! 😉 It’s kind of hard to find the right words though, so I’m still playing around with this particular poem. Thank you so much for the link to the previous ‘ku challenge and the info about birch trees! Interestingly enough, I have a river birch at the hospital where I work at. I’d always wondered what it was called! Now I know. 8)
Also, I love the new renga we have going on. 8)
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belated fury
snow predicted yesterday
comes with howling wind
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Thanks, lotus. I really enjoy the tanka and renga, too. It stretches me into new territory. Love the birch tree dream. Will look forward to your poem. Beautiful birch haiku.
breathepeace, I think that same storm hit here in the form of gray wind and rain.
______________
belated fury
snow predicted yesterday
comes with howling wind,
knocking cobwebs from the brain
where I obsess on writing.
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blows of the wind
knock over hopeful heart once
again, edge of seat
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blows of the wind
knock over hopeful heart once
again, edge of seat
giving in, I forge ahead
reality takes me there
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[…] I start to feel crazy, my practices help sustain me: red Ravine, Writing Practice, mandalas, haiku. It’s helpful to get up at the same time, shower, get dressed, and eat lunch at noon. I do […]
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blows of the wind
knock over hopeful heart once
again, edge of seat
giving in, I forge ahead
reality takes me there
squall howls through door cracks
flakes of snow dot the brown grass
roar of March madness
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blows of the wind
knock over hopeful heart once
again, edge of seat
giving in, I forge ahead
reality takes me there
squall howls through door cracks
flakes of snow dot the brown grass
roar of March madness
describes basketball play-offs
and unpredictable spring
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lol. lovely renga, breathepeace.
_________________
warm hands and cold feet
going to dinner with friends
does a body good
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cool, mellow day
seeing things in yellow-green,
contrast to dull skies
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[…] -related to posts: haiku for the live oak, St. Simons Island haiku, black-eyed susan haiku, Georgia’s Scottish Highlanders (On Tartan & Targe), haiku 2 (one-a-day) […]
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braving a blizzard
to feast on sunflower seeds
house finch on feeder
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lightning pendulum
air molecules dance in rhythm,
send down raindrops
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Sharing a tanka today, which is written for the NAMI Walk I’m participating in May.
Many people say the mind is a dangerous thing, but I fully believe that it is ALWAYS A VALUABLE thing.
If you would like to donate on my behalf, please follow the link below:
http://www.nami.org/namiwalks09/HOU/kathyun
Thank you for the support!
—————————————————-
Like dandelions,
neurons nourish our senses,
dreams disperse to stars,
but until they gray with age,
nothing after that matters.
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It should have said “Some people” not “Many people” in the above comment.
“Some people say that the mind is a dangerous thing, but I fully believe that it is ALWAYS A VALUABLE thing.”
Oy, I feel silly when I make generalization mistakes like this.
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lifting veils of dew
winds must have blown away the clouds
clear blue skies
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[…] to posts: haiku 2 (one-a-day), susquehanna haiku, savannah river […]
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A~Lotus, I really like that last tanka written for the NAMI Walk in May. What a worthy cause. There is so much stigma connected to all forms of mental illness. I didn’t know the National Alliance on Mental Illness sponsored walks like that. I wish you well toward reaching your goal.
______________
blows of the wind
knock over hopeful heart once
again, edge of seat
giving in, I forge ahead
reality takes me there
squall howls through door cracks
flakes of snow dot the brown grass
roar of March madness
describes basketball play-offs
and unpredictable spring
sunny Sunday skies
splash blue calm before the storm
Red River holds still
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[…] -related to post: haiku 2 (one-a-day) […]
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hopeful April dreams
bring showers of comfort
under the foliage
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bound in stilettos
tired tiny feet draws purpose
on seizing chances
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@QM: Yes, there is so much more to mental illness. It’s only that I started working at a psychiatric hospital that I realize the sad reality of mental illnesses and disorders. And yes, I’m so excited about this event!
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take music through time
as you dream of gentle hands
blind to the ugly
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A~Lotus, I admire that you are doing that kind of work. I’ve been researching a little of the history of psychiatric hospitals and we have come a long way from the past. You are walking for a good cause.
____________
wind whips oak branches
snow flakes fly past the window
Spring as April Fool
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take music through time
as you dream of gentle hands
blind to the ugly;
out of dark cracks and crannies,
beauty reaches for the light
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your face wilts so soon
with dark ink against sunlight
pansies for your thoughts
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A~Lotus, that last haiku is especially lovely.
_____________
kissed by the Sun’s breath
hovering around freezing
Winter’s last hurrah
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constant low rumble
noisy invisible wind
swishes through spruce trees
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sudden downpour
vision sinks below horizon
but flowers look up
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@QM: Thank you! I didn’t realize what an effect it has until I read it again today. I sort of forgot that I’ve written it!! 😛
Anyway, I’ve noticed that you have gotten stronger with tanka!! 🙂 You have such interesting “endings” to the haiku/senryu when completing the tanka. I hope that made sense.
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I just picked up Clark Strand’s new book at Birchbark Books: How To Believe in God, Whether You Believe in Religion Or Not. The Ralph Waldo Emerson quote on the first page:
“God builds his temple in the heart on the ruins of churches and religions.”
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morning wind dance
elegant scent attracts a heart,
melts lips and toes
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Teri, that’s exciting about the new Clark Strand book. I will look forward to hearing more as you get more into it. Wonderful.
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A~Lotus, yep, makes sense. And thanks!
___________
birds swing on black wire
fresh air through open window
dog barking below
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black sky out windows
darkness engulfs city lights
twinkling like rogue stars
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quiet morning
how golden hoa mai* looks
as sun peeks through curtains
*”Hoa mai” is a yellow apricot flowering plant in Vietnamese.
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my complete person
more than the sum of my scars
not whole without them
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white fantasy world
snow drift blankets garden bed
in Wyoming spring
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Patty welcome! Hoa mai sounds wonderful lotus. breathepeace, your storm must have blown our way. 8)
_____________________
oak trees wear a coat
3 inches of sticky snow
squirrel tracks dot the deck
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under the sun
ferns and palms dance with delight
aloe holds them steady
spring afternoon
tidal waves through rooftops
wind orchestra
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death knocks at the door
April sun peers through clear glass
I’m chilled to the bone
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dark Death came and went
leaving Sun and Wind behind;
Kaia, rest in peace
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@QM: Sounds like a beloved passed away. Not sure if it’s a person or a pet. Either way, giving my sympathies. *hugs*
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dipped in navy ink,
the moon is almost too full
of poetic howls
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newspaper woman
in dirty T-shirt and shorts
her home at crossroads
at noon rest
voice huddles of nostalgia
life on pause
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generosity
smiles color in someone’s day
mirror of yourself
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snow pocket lingers
full moon reflects off branches
of long oak shadows
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A~Lotus, thank you. A friend’s cat lost to the call of Spirit; and ours is not feeling well. Been a long week!
__________
dipped in navy ink,
the moon is almost too full
of poetic howls,
dripping with rolling thunder,
skipping beats behind the stars
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childlike delight
among perforated palm trees
fluttering colors
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@QM: Get some rest! I can imagine what a week it must have been for you! *hugs* By the way, lovely tanka! Lovely ending! Now I’m going to see a way if I can continue it so it could be a renga. We’ll see as I find it sometimes it’s too beautiful without continuation! 😀 8)
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between words
awkward spaces buffer silence
glimpses of undertones
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Thanks, lotus. I did rest yesterday after taking Chaco to the U of M for more tests. Took a well-needed break. You are rocking with the poetry!
______________
Midwest Spring unfolds
sun peeks around the corner,
birdfeeders empty
oiled sunflower seeds
and two dancing cardinals
waiting in the wings
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It’s beautiful here today. Feels like Spring. Here’s a Spring haiku by Issa from Haiku — Everyman’s Library Pocket Poets translated by R.H. Blyth:
This ramshackle house,
And me just the same as ever —
The first day of spring.
— ISSA
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@QM: Issa’s work is wonderful! I’m glad you posted one for our reading pleasure.
On a much heavier note, this is the second time that this has happened to me this month. Today has been a frustrating day, but I am very fortunate to have it happen at the right time, right place, and there’s the right kind of people helping me change my tire!!
Hope you notice my pun in this Easter season! 8) And happy Easter to all!
pain in the rear (tire)
collecting second nail
in time for Easter
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at the gazebo
rain sheets interrupt chi flow
(brain)storm strikes
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sounds of rebirth
morning poet’s solo
after weekend thunderstorm
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A~Lotus, I hope it worked out with your flat tire! I had one about a month ago. I seem to run over a nail ever once in a while. But I have that Emergency Roadside Service so that really helps in those situations. BTW, I did get your Easter pun. Pretty clever with the nail.
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sounds of rebirth
morning poet’s solo
after weekend thunderstorm;
gray skies follow muted sun
writer’s got the Monday blues
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light breeze
birch leaves bend
around the road
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in spring rain
shrubs appear greener than
in sunny days
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I really don’t know where to post this, but this was one of the birch tree poems I’ve written for NaPoWriMo:
http://alotus-poetry.livejournal.com/71659.html
And I still need to go back to the other birch tree poem I was working on (the one I discussed somewhere in here)… 😛
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dry leaves
kicked to the curb
leaf blower
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Nice work on the birch tree poem A~Lotus. I checked out your link. Origami trees. 8)
I’ve been so behind in reading and commenting this week. I did walk the labyrinth Tuesday though. So refreshing. It was 63 degrees and sunny. Here are a couple of haiku from that walk.
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lying dead center
staring up at midday sun
red Converse All-Stars
warm tax day breezes
lift Spring buds off cherry tree
blowing cares away
sleeper or writer?
inquiring minds want to know —
masterful silence
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across a median
catching eyes and subtlety
earthquake meets the sea
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@QM: I’m glad you enjoyed the birch tree poem! Lately, I’ve been so fascinated with it as I always see it outside my window at work. And yes, I did have my tire fixed and all. Here’s to knocking on wood that I won’t get another flat!
I really like the third senryu. It is so peaceful. I need to take a labyrinth walk. I haven’t done so since I graduated from uni 2 years ago! And now, you’ve inspired me to reflect on my experiences with the labyrinth at my uni. I may write a haiku/senryu on it and post it on Twitter or something… 😉
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journey through rosettes
the troubled mind
centers its balance
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incoming rain
flower in her hair
awaits kisses from clouds
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THREE HAIKU CELEBRATING SPRING IN WYOMING
cottonwood tree creaks
under coat of icy sleet
buds, a tight fist, wait
next week trees will bloom
today shoveling deep snow
finches swarm feeder
“yippee — a snow day!”
hearing my children’s voices
call across decades
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dreams walk her
to the image of blue space
sip of jasmine tea
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@breathepeace: I love the energy vibrating through your haiku and senryu! 8)
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Thank you, A~Lotus. It’s a pleasure to jump back into the haiku stream with you!
renewed with sunshine
spring awakens under snow
tiny baby cries
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lotus, hope you get to walk the labyrinth there. It changes a person. 8)
breathepeace, I saw all that snow on the news last week. Could not believe it. Much warmer here but rainy today.
___________
cool inside the house
cats curled into little balls
sprinkles of rain shine
remembering hawk
standing tall on the deck rail
sky high point of view
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clarity
as if the storm never happened
sunny skies
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[…] -related to posts This, That & The Other, The Making Of A Painting Painter, and haiku 2 (one-a-day) […]
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@breathepeace: I surely hope you come back often! I was wondering where you are. I hope life is treating you well!
@QM: If I happen to go back and visit, I’ll write another senryu to commemorate it! 🙂 After all, haiku and senryu embody life’s wonderful moments.
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between the flesh
purple flowers bloom
a painful bump
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Artifice, layer
Atop layer. Pull them back!
There stands Susan Boyle.
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from neighbor’s backyard
the loudest midnight bark jolts
outcome of nightmare
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Robert Morse, you’re back! I was just thinking about you the other day and wondering if you were still writing the haiku.
A great statement about recent developments in popular culture with Idol and Susan Boyle. I was listening to an NPR show at noon yesterday about her appearance and how some want to make her over. I think she is fine the way she is. No artifice, no layers — she stands exactly as she is.
A~Lotus, that last one is dark. Was it really a nightmare?
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wind no longer blows
the lone rustle of tree tops
to my waiting ears
calm April morning
two squirrels chatter in the oaks —
me, clacking the keys
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from neighbor’s backyard
the loudest midnight bark jolts
outcome of nightmare;
sleep deprived, I toss and turn
morning brings sweet dreams.
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@QM: No, I didn’t have a nightmare, but goodness, you should’ve heard the commotion in the neighbor’s backyard! I think there were several dogs fighting–very ferociously in fact! I don’t know if any other neighbors heard it! I mean, here I was happily sitting enjoying the silence while reading my book, when everything erupted! That sure gave me the jolt! I like the tanka completion. 8)
—————————————-
RSVP to Earth
recycling
saves valuable pieces
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sunny warm Earth Day
grackles empty four feeders
spring arrives hungry
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spring chase
nibbling on pigeon’s feathers
the barrel-chested bird
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back from U of M
nibbling on red seedless grapes
Chaco rests on couch
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having discipline
is highly over-rated
by those who have none
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field of daffodils
hidden behind cedar hedge
who is my neighbor?
***
Love it breathepeace!
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soft sunset brushstrokes
of linelines in rocks
one falls through golden cracks
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EDIT
soft sunset brushstrokes
of LIFELINES in rocks
one falls through golden cracks
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Flood Aftermath
at the creek
gone fishing
tow truck reeling in white truck
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so cool to rest
spilling out thoughts and dreams
to a pillow that listens
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May four days away
still snow falls instead of rain
dreaming daffodils
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like ikebana
bamboo spirals towards the heavens
from pebbled water
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Hmm, I think it sounds better without the “like.”
EDIT:
ikebana
bamboo spirals towards the heavens
from pebbled water
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baring all within hands
succulent as your lips
flesh of a grapefruit
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A~Lotus, thanks for holding down the haiku post. 8) So great to see all your haiku. Tough call on the edited ikebana. Different lines change the meaning slightly. It’s fun to mess around with the editing. That last one is great — flesh of grapefruit.
breathepeace and laura, great to see your haiku here. Love it when you stop by.
I was out of town at a short writing retreat last weekend. Took a break from electronics. Am not quite back in the flow of life yet. It’s so jarring to come home sometimes. I’ve got some clear goals. Now to get going on them.
Here are a couple I wrote in Kansas City, Missouri last weekend:
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white petals in creek
native plants of Missouri
red-winged blackbird twill
wind in sycamores
silver green tree trunk spirals
reaching for the sky
common spiderwort
red buckeye of the Midwest
greets spotted bee-balm
stiff wind blows through hair
swallows page of black notebook
redbuds hold their own
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@QM: Welcome back! And of course, writing a haiku/senryu daily has become a meditative ritual for me, so of course, I’ll be lurking around here at least once at day. 😉
Fabulous series of haiku there! It sounds like a relaxing retreat!
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some days
between the white noise
cranes unfold to blank pages
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plucked from the tree
juice dribbling off lips
poem-granates: words, words, words
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This sounds like something that someone somewhere must have said before. Maybe it was in a fortune cookie.
Apology: Not
A saving grace when you are
Only saving face.
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across the table
ping pong ball bounces and clicks
there’s no place like love
@Robert: I think you’re right. I think I may have encountered it on a fortune cookie, too. 😀 But hey, it’s still a good one! 🙂
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in the mountains
flaming rocks sweep me off my feet
portage to divine kiss
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afternoon tea cups
petals of hoa hue* glisten
against the gray skies
(Note: “Hoa hue” is tuberoses in Vietnamese.)
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Robert Morse, I like that one! You have such a distinct style with your haiku.
A~Lotus, I didn’t know what a tuberose was so had to look it up. The tuberose (Polianthes tuberosa) is a perennial plant of the agave family Agavaceae, extracts of which are used as a middle note in perfumery. I love how it sounds in Vietnamese.
We did a bunch of yard work yesterday and it felt so good to be out in the yard. We are both quite sore today though. Used muscles I didn’t know I had. 8)
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winged friends abound
wasp lingers near the window
itching for a sting
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@QM: Every now and then I slip in bits of my language. It is a way to get connected to my language and culture. I’m glad you like it! 8)
I can imagine all the gardening must be really tiring!! I once did yard work with my family clearing out stuff from the garage and throwing away branches from the backyard from our old house. Now THAT was hard work!! So I can imagine!
Loving your ‘ku. 🙂
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capturing eloquence
love penned on pixels and space
no tea(rdrop) stains
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world in seesaw
carrying bags
under the eyes
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afternoon tea cups
petals of hoa hue* glisten
against the gray skies;
ants picnic on tight pink buds,
opening Spring peonies.
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break away shy ice
barriers bent and borrowed
misty kisses descend
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@QM: Lovely tanka! 8)
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I wrote lots today!!
sunset begins
a cheek curls up
into a gentle palm
year of the ox
father’s callous hands covered
in grimy tears
calculus
graphing inflection of words
in seventeen points
belly up
angular legs cut out shapes from clouds
ladybug on a rose
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starless night
sipping cup of full moon
in strong black coffee
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[…] -related to posts: WRITING TOPIC — NAMES OF FLOWERS, day after mother’s day haiku, haiku 2 (one-a-day) […]
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For Mother’s Day tribute:
smell of (c)love
twirls from the ruffles of your dress
pink carnations from my heart
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A~Lotus, I love the “sipping cup of full moon” haiku. Your Mother’s Day tribute is wonderful as well.
BTW, I plan to keep up the haiku practice during the short vacation ybonesy and I are taking. So I will be dropping them in here. It’s a good way to stay connected. I really appreciate that you stop by and look forward to your practice. 8)
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Spring is in the air
red Ravine on vacation
haiku writes itself
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I hope you and Yb have a wonderful time on your vacation! 8) I’ll be enjoying my break from school! I sooo need a mental vacation. Looking forward to both of your frequent drop-ins! 🙂 I’ll still be leaving little treasures here. 🙂 I sort of adopted this place as my sanctuary. I love writing with you and Yb!! It’s been a wonderful journey!! Take care!
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For my brother today:
simply organized
in a box of chocolates
birthday wishes
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hum of lawnmowers
travels from all directions
to my writing desk
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depth of songs in knots
changes along with the currents
summer silhouettes
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gale force winds whistling
air cracks between glass and wood
Casket Arts Building
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my uncut lawn grows
tall, white-haired dandelions
waiting for the wind
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warm Spring day awaits
the arrival of Summer
time to get away
working in the yard
good for the heart and the soul
dreams of toes in sand
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joining the pigeons
the toddler flaps her wings
but not toward the skies
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mourning dove’s low call
drowns out squeal of garbage truck
leaves a touch of Zen
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frosty midnight drive
fresh buds bow shivering heads
wind unrepentant
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I’ve been busy these past several days and did not get a chance to post in here, but I did write at least a haiku/senryu every day. I’m just glad that today is one of those lazy Sundays when I could just do things at my own pace! 8) Hope everyone is having a good weekend!
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like peppermint
accidental crack on the wall
jade bracelet splinters
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summer
clinging onto her Hawaiian hair
petals ride with the wind
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in the mountains
rain-beads drip off a branch
pressing prints in the still lake
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seed puffs fill the air
Minnesota in full green
cherry blooms vanish
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earthy bowls
collecting fuschia clusters
during the park trail
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black clouds approaching
wind sweeping spiderwort leaves
cold front running hot
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clouds break
into showers filling in holes
of unspoken contract
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Spring wind slowly fades
hostas stand at attention
listening to the rain
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fairy dust, pollen
queen bee rests on snapdragon
sneezing royally
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NOTE: This is autobiographical, but it is also ancient history.
She said, “I need space”
And then she proceeded to
Remove all of mine.
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@Robert: Wow, such poignant senryu (also sad, yet funny). You are truly a master of senryu.
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burnt grass, fried earthworms
kids tag clouds from trampoline
water war erupts
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I’m sharing a tanka today:
trees are parachutes
to summer thunderstorms–
each drop from a leaf,
a jewel landing gracefully
and captured in a puddle
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Happy Memorial Day
countless yet profound
like strewn poppies on graves
actions of heroes
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From a patient’s perspective:
from my hospital window
a blackbird sings
with the summer rain
my thoughts still chase after my home
only fortune can send me there
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That was a tanka I just submitted! 8)
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A~Lotus, agreed about Robert Morse. He is the master of senryu. Robert Morse, I always have a smile after reading your work.
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burnt grass, fried earthworms
kids tag clouds from trampoline
water war erupts;
crystalline drops fly sky high
below frosty innocence
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Or maybe it reads better with drops flying “over.” Below is so strange to read. But that’s what came out:
burnt grass, fried earthworms
kids tag clouds from trampoline
water war erupts;
crystalline drops fly sky high
above frosty innocence
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Normal won’t stay still
It’s a jittery Dow Jones
It’s a limbo stick.
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Normal won’t stay still
It’s a jittery Dow Jones
It’s a limbo stick.
Hoping for bend before break
or crashing to the hard floor!
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young cardinals swoop
canvassing the neighborhood
for signs of bright red
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a kiss stops
a teardrop mid-cheek
but draws an ocean upon the lips
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a kiss stops
a teardrop mid-cheek
but draws an ocean upon the lips
and when you come up for air
the current draws you away
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I wrote a tanka today!
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phoenix feathers
send maple leaves rising
from earth and ashes,
spiraling in the wind–a breath
of wisdom ripens with time
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@Robert: That is an absolutely beautiful completion to my senryu! 8)
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A~Lotus,
Thanks. Tanka is a good prescription for writers, i.e. almost all of us, who suffer from time to time from “blank page” or “blank screen” syndrome. If you write tanka, there is already something ON the page. Of course, it helps to have something well-written to work from which I certainly did in this case. I’ve only tried two so far. I may try more in the future.
QuoinMonkey,
I just reread the lines you added to create the tanka I started. Great word play!
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center of being
soft colors of mauve, beige, and rose
lift the mind each sunrise
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@Robert: So true indeed regarding tanka when it comes to “blank page” syndrome! LOL.
At any rate, please keep trying the tanka! 🙂 I look forward to reading your completions.
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laced with dew
maple tree adorned with strands of silk
spider’s gift of dawn
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And a tanka:
balance–
letting unanswered questions
go unanswered
between spaces of engagement
like lingering notes of mutual silence
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Ash tree says her Prayers
potent medicine against
Emerald Ash Borer
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Blackberries vibrate
And twitter tweets. The whole world
Has gone haywireless.
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folded words
tucked away in the desk drawer
you never returned my heart
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Tanka:
greetings
at a restaurant entrance
a smiling Buddha
sitting atop a hill of coins
my belly will too be full
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folded words
tucked away in the desk drawer
you never returned my heart
if not Special Deliv’ry
why not, at least, C.O.D.?
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Blackberries vibrate
And twitter tweets. The whole world
Has gone haywireless.
Social networks span the globe,
friending people with no face.
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Another tanka!
underneath shifting leaves
ants build an empire of secrets
trailed by scents
of nectar dripping like rain
from petals of scarlet cannas
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Wow, QM and Robert!! You both completed 2 wonderful tanka!! 8) 8) That really makes my day!
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city moon
i ride the train whistle
back to my birthplace
Happy moon gazing!
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Thanks, lotus. So happy you visit here! Willie, welcome aboard. Thanks for writing haiku with us!
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blessed rain drops fall
splashing purple finches play
manna from heaven
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all you can eat
before the picnic basket
summer lineup of ants
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Tanka today!
on its shoulder
the weight of its home
on unsteady ground
yet the turtle walks with time
in each reflective step
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Another tanka!
sitting
by the window
sunflowers tap the glass,
their eyes and stems longing for
the world on the other side
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body muscles sink
underneath the shade of palm trees
gray sand imprints
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I’m cross-commenting here. There’s a cool page at PBS about Frank Lloyd Wright and haiku. Go to the following link, then Haiku Gallery, and check out the PBS: The Poetry of Form: Frank Lloyd Wright & Haiku (LINK).
It’s FL Wright’s birthday; Liz and I visited Fallingwater a few years ago in PA (LINK).
We asked young writers around the country to submit haiku connected to the work of Frank Lloyd Wright. Haiku, like Wright’s work, is a poetic expression of our relationship to nature and the seasonal cycles of life.
“What Wright does in his architecture is make poetry. He makes images that people can relate to and he makes buildings that celebrate the various purposes for which they were designed.”—Neil Levine
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ant walks a tightrope;
broken strand of spaghetti,
waiting to be cooked
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sidewalk feast
ants swarm around carcass
of earthworm
classical conditioning
when the dryer beeps
I get up to fold away the day
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A~Lotus, I like that last one — folding away the day. Seems I’m always in the mood for haiku as I leave the Casket Arts Studio. I think this space is inspiring. 8)
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cottonwood seed floats
along frayed telephone wire
talking to the wind
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Tanka!
stagnant
summer heat slivers energy
little by little
like how a snake’s venom
sinks a prey into stupor
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scaling the brick walls
dragonfly echoes the drones
of the mosquito
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catching breaths
and writing them in the skies
exclamation of awe
golden trees caught between
the folds of sky and water
lapis blue mirrors
Both ‘ku are inspired by this wonderful photo: http://www.flickr.com/photos/chris_gin/3619040444/
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peonies’ scent
a little girl becomes
the butterfly
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folding paper
against the setting sun
egret taking off
next to a park bench
man at rest
with his bicycle
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the heron’s wing
brushes the morning moon
spring’s passing
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[…] has officially launched. This is a call for entries to share your essays, short stories, poems, haiku, watercolors, oils, photographs, and music about envy. One of you will win a new Amazon Kindle. And […]
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traveling among
street lights at night
summer smog
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bandit, thanks for posting with us. lovely.
A~Lotus, and I look forward to your haiku visits. Nothing like haiku and photographs, too. I kind of miss posting those. I can feel a few garden haiku/photos coming on. 8)
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mud dry summer bogs;
frogs, croakless and abandoned
cry out in silence
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the heron’s wing
brushes the morning moon
spring’s passing
summer vacation
stretching legs out to land
I happened to click over to the haiku page today and was so happy for the reminder about Clark Strand’s book which has been sitting on my shelf, largely unread for too long now. Time to pick it up! Time to write more haiku!
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I wrote a tanka today:
water fountain
wishes afloat on copper and silver
capturing light rays
sending poetry to the lips
once the soul dips in water
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throaty tremors
from cicadas and crickets
summer love songs
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humidity sags
quiet rain tumbles past leaves
graceful skydiving
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[…] daily haiku Post Yours Here […]
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lost
on wildwood road
water lilies directionless
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[…] daily haiku Post Yours Here […]
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pandora1022, thanks for joining us here. Hope you enjoy Clark Strand’s book that you plan to pull off the shelf. It was a thrill to have him comment here at the beginning of this post. Hope you’ll keep visiting here and leaving your haiku!
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long hours of light
Summer Solstice winding down
tunneling to dark
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night clouds unveil
the morning sun trailing
after the passing train
one more summer battle
mother bird flaps away crow
over egg shards
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first try…
long hours of light
Summer Solstice winding down
tunneling to dark
Thunderstorms arise o’erhead
bringing momentary night
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Terri, great tanka. Thanks for joining us here. I think I’ll add on to your tanka and get a renga going. I like expanding my practice. 8)
____________________
long hours of light
Summer Solstice winding down
tunneling to dark
Thunderstorms arise o’erhead
bringing momentary night
wilting heat index
sucks steam from sizzling pavement
cooling beads of sweat
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walking alone
in the woods again
choir of crickets
increases their tempo
around each bend
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scaling the brick walls
dragonfly echoes the drones
of the mosquito;
dry summer leaves no puddles
of standing water to breed.
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a brush on the cheek
as he turns away
not looking back
towards the sunset
his shadow leaning against her
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the wind
tap dancing on laundry lines
sun-dried tennis shoes
the trail after the rain
jogger’s leg up to wipe off mud
I follow suit
ear pressed to pillow
sounds of galloping horses
one hundred years of dreams
perhaps one day granted
by a prince of/or peace
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tangerine ice pop
bittersweet on my warm tongue
while rain spatters down
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Michelle F, thanks for visiting and dropping your haiku here. Much appreciated.
____________________–
wherever I walk
laundry room, kitchen, dining —
grief seems to follow
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bald eagle parents
would kill to protect their young
I know the feeling
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@breathepeace: That’s a good one–about parents in general!
@QM: I too know the feeling.
@Michelle F: Welcome aboard to red Ravine’s Haiku Home! 🙂
——————————-
disheartened
part of the time
I’m barely there
past 1 a.m.
my pen stops
when the crickets pause in mid-song
scorching heat
when skin makes contact with the wheel
hissing sounds (of pain)
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An overcast day
Thrashing at unwanted green
Beauty can prevail
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Aristotelean contract
sealed through email between friends
the world hushes
untangling clouds
revealing hearts of gold
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grey windy morning
read Vietnam War stories
inside, outside fog
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With thanks to Patricia Hampl and “The Florist’s Daughter” for the inspiration for this one:
perfect achievement
wasting time under rated
hot lake afternoon
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on some days
a foot massage is a luxury
tired of walking
in too many shoes
as some are steel-toed
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watching the ocean from a window:
the surf
white ponies gallop
through a broad expanse of blue
water to fine sand
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young doe on lakeshore
eating tender watercress
I was never wild
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version 2:
young doe on lakeshore
eating tender watercress
was I ever wild?
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@breathepeace: Sometimes I too explore the different versions when writing haiku. Each version is a different facet.
———————–
blushing
a shade darker
behind her shades
with a summer kiss
underneath the maple shade
time
in the American mind
use it or lose it
time
in Eastern philosophy
mind in the moment
if my pillow
were a storybook
I would catch dreams
spilling some as coins
into a wishing well
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[…] -related to posts: WRITING TOPIC – TOADS & FROGS, A Celebration Of GREEN On red Ravine…, What Is Your Totem Animal?, Cracking Envy (Or How I Learned To Stop Romancing A Deadly Sin), haiku 2 (one-a-day) […]
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cold July morning
day dream of waterskiing
sitting by hot fire
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breathepeace, oliverowl, lotus, Michelle F,so good to read your haiku, senryu, tanka. Like old friends to me.
breathepeace, today I like the question version. Was I ever wild?
_______________
tall daylilies bloom
on a low hill far away
right in front of me
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young doe on lakeshore
eating tender watercress
was I ever wild?
I can’t remember a time
my Spirit knew to let go
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the surf
white ponies gallop
through a broad expanse of blue
water to fine sand;
I hid behind blue seashells,
spirals of hollowed out bone
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Oscar has three chins
And is working on a fourth.
A man with a goal.
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It feels good to rest here. 🙂
———————
gift of self
when one pauses a life
trading breaths
so that trust melts passion
in the other’s eyes and heart
(tanka)
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dark and overcast
day before the holiday
a lawnmower growls
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ybonesy, just checking in and saw the July 4th post. So fun to see it. Am heading out shortly to meet some friends for lunch. Back later to comment to all!
___________________________
dark and overcast
day before the holiday
a lawnmower growls;
clouds perch on the horizon
wanting nothing more than rain
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Trust your voice. Don’t let
Your diff’rent drummer become
A distant drummer.
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dark and overcast
day before the holiday
a lawnmower growls;
clouds perch on the horizon
wanting nothing more than rain
storm clouds tease us
passing through the jeweled trees
on this side of life
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A living poem —
A golden leaf on the breeze
Flows to life’s four winds.
Surveyor of breath
Healing to mind and body —
Artist soul released.
First warm ray of sun
Plants seeds of infinity,
The journey maker.
Harvest life’s garden —
Dismantler of time breathes
Eternal moments.
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@A. Hoyt: Those are lovely pieces. Thank you for sharing them with us. 🙂
—————————-
soft touch of focus
your eyes kiss my body
ever so slowly
I become undone
no words to fill the page (tanka)
tight finances
cupping my appetite
in the bowl of my hands
rainy days
search for warm invitations
but too many closed doors
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So happy to see your posts. Welcome A. Hoyt. Welcome back A~Lotus and Robert Morse. Always a pleasure. Continuing the renga.
________________
dark and overcast
day before the holiday
a lawnmower growls;
clouds perch on the horizon
wanting nothing more than rain
storm clouds tease us
passing through the jeweled trees
on this side of life —
nothing taken for granted
will stay with us very long
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Tanka from A. Hoyt’s haiku:
_______________
A living poem –
A golden leaf on the breeze
Flows to life’s four winds.
Scattered in all directions,
She lands safely on the ground.
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Tanka from Robert Morse’s haiku:
________________
Trust your voice. Don’t let
Your diff’rent drummer become
A distant drummer.
Walk in another’s footsteps,
The path will lead you back Home.
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@QM: Nice renga completions! 🙂
—————————
when alone
I read your e-love letters
more than three times
so that I could still capture
the missed cadence of your heart
(version 2 – tanka)
many paths
as how a diamond is cleaved
so could love
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dark and overcast
day before the holiday
a lawnmower growls;
clouds perch on the horizon
wanting nothing more than rain
storm clouds tease us
passing through the jeweled trees
on this side of life –
nothing taken for granted
will stay with us very long
cool sun at midday
life is full of suffering —
followed by moonlight
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Tanka from A~Lotus’s haiku
*****
cool sun at midday
life is full of suffering –
followed by moonlight
but then comes the promised dawn
when life is full of wonder
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My memory’s good
I recall the first time I
Was absent-minded.
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Robert Morse, great way to end that renga. I’m going to repost the whole renga chain here.
_______________
dark and overcast
day before the holiday
a lawnmower growls;
clouds perch on the horizon
wanting nothing more than rain
storm clouds tease us
passing through the jeweled trees
on this side of life –
nothing taken for granted
will stay with us very long
cool sun at midday
life is full of suffering –
followed by moonlight
but then comes the promised dawn
when life is full of wonder
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Tanka from Robert Morse’s senryu:
_______________
My memory’s good
I recall the first time I
Was absent-minded.
Last moments are forgotten —
Decades long past, cut in stone.
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[…] Time) I was wide awake. So wide awake, I even broke the 5-7-5 structure on the Sleeplessness senryu (not typical of my […]
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[…] add your own. Or, write a haiku inspired by these taters. Heck, how about a Writing Practice on Everything I know about […]
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PINE TREE HAIKU BLUES
I’m called evergreen
Bu I’m feelin’ everblue
Cue them dogwood days.
Snow-heavy branches
Droop down–no weepin’ willow
Ever been so low.
JUST PLAIN OL’ HAIKU BLUES
I keep screwin’ up
I just can’t win. I once lost
An Easter-Egg Hunt.
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spring noon;
outblued by the sky-
the blue bird.
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Robert Morse, love the Pine Tree Haiku Blues! Welcome manoj saranathan. Thanks for leaving your haiku.
_____________
skipped eating breakfast —
old leftover spaghetti
lunch swallows me whole
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stacking thoughts
around your face
falling for you
our footprints become a collage
the soft sand untouched by waves
(tanka)
without forgiveness
love stops short
of intertwined dreams
like wall-climbing vines
unable to cling onto passing clouds
(tanka)
counting down days
like haiku syllables
no ease for a lover’s heart
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cloudy morning;
they face every direction-
sunflowers !
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coneflowers ripen;
white butterflies, red willow —
Summer slow walking
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It was a two haiku day:
saltwater reeds dance
sweat dripping down my forehead
breathing in a breeze
chocolate heads, cattails
twisted spine of willowbark
branches bow to river
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“You couldn’t ask for
A better day”. Well, you could
But why push your luck?
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Liz and her mother
eating waffles in the sun,
off to pick raspberries
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proof-
reading your lips
sealed in saliva
I find that waiting
leaves more room for errors
(tanka)
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sipping Chardonnay
peering into the future
after Camelot
—
Thanks for the comment Robert!
How lucky are we?
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heart sinks in sadness
while happiness for youth
adventures abounds
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Family Tree Haiku
__________________
searching for the past —
ancestors frozen in time
have digital names
great, great grandmother
stern face, wearing long black dress
stands in the garden
those who came before
happy to be remembered
will not forget us
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Tanka for Michelle:
heart sinks in sadness
while happiness for youth
adventures abounds
a mother’s mixed emotions
her son a continent away
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Thanks Roma, that was perfect!
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[…] -related to posts toenail art haiku, WRITING TOPIC – FEET & TOES and haiku 2 (one-a-day). […]
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night rain, thunder rolls
Ethel Freeman’s Sestina
the poet’s lightning
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sad trip back to camp
neighbors came to visit us
hugs & sun made day
Raining here now at home, the visit to camp (We sold it, knowing health issues no longer made it our retirement dream. But, we sold to an awesome man that has become a great friend). Our neighbors there all got together & we are going back next week-end after I return from another visit to see my family. We had a great time! The man who bought our place has also made us an extra key, as we had turned ours over to him. What a good day we had! Very relaxing & probably too much info in the haiku post. D
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Thyme grows day by day
parsley, sage, rosemary, and
wish I had more time
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@alittlediddy: Glad you had a great time at camp! And it’s okay, sometimes I do little updates like that too. 8) It’s refreshing to come back to this Haiku post and just pop in for a hello!
————–
a week later
you still haven’t changed
your mind
your thoughts still collect dust
on our unfinished poem (tanka)
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A~Lotus, you are so right. Nice to slow down sometimes and catch up.
diddy, sad news and so sorry for the loss of your camp. What nice people you have sold it to though. Maybe that’s the best of both worlds. Glad you got to go back and visit.
___________________
ghosts rise to surface
objects of the Titanic
cling tight to the past
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running
through the snaky path
a Zen moment
lost with incense sticks
falling from pine trees
(tanka)
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passing time
she combs away thoughts
of her lover
each strand of hair
falls to the ground like a dying leaf
(tanka)
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haiku for deep summer
____________
water drops glisten
on a single blade of grass
while sprinkling the lawn
spritzing and spraying
robin lands atop lilac,
a makeshift birdbath
oily seeds, millet
cardinals empty feeders
filled two days ago
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Some tanka for thought:
broken cap
a fallen acorn
from its sea foam sky
I fold away origami
mums for the autumn festival (tanka)
my belly
spilling over the top
of my jeans
I need to stop being
and eating a cupcake (tanka)
on some days
I need an impulse
to not think
see how different I’d be
if I had someone else’s thinking cap (tanka)
splitting money
our differences lay on the table
I miss the warmth
of each coin you toss
in our backyard birdbath (tanka)
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A~Lotus, like your tanka. Always happy when you visit. 8)
____________
thunder and gray rain
ping the AC — tempered glass
window of silence
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A~Lotus, splitting money is my favorite, both sad and lovely.
full moon at midnight
illuminates cloudy sky
dark water journey
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@QM and breathepeace: Thank you both! I’m glad you liked “splitting money”! That tanka in particular was somewhat difficult to write, but in the end, it was worth it. 8) I too enjoy both of your haiku.
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mindful
of each other’s inner circle
the sun
like a dart slides through
termite holes of an old tree stump (tanka)
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the hot summer days
reminders of what awaits
deck gets final stain
Mary returns but
this year there is no Harry
call without any reply
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Three haiku from today’s kayak ride:
summer’s great surprise
eaglet sits on white pine nest
steps from edge to fly!
loons call through forest
echoing from lake to lake
three note “where are you?”
at a loss for words
what does this lake mean to me?
fifty-four summers
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life’s great mysteries
revealed here every day
sit still and notice
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diddy, what happened to Harry? 😦 Glad you stopped by.
breathepeace, always a pleasure when you drop by. Makes me smile. Wish I knew how to kayak. Liz and I talk about taking a short class but haven’t done it yet.
______________
raw contemplation
sitting in endless silence
searching for wild mind
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QM, not sure what happened to Harry, but Mary must miss him. They were here when we moved into this house. I remember their baby catbirds, who perched in one of our hemlock trees last year. I would imagine they have returned as well. D
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QM — no lessons needed. Just rent a kayak like I did and jump in on a calm lake. That’s all you need for a lesson … unless you’re trying Lake Superior, the ocean or a raging river, in which case you’d want to know how to roll the thing. The only caution is, once you try it, you may want to own a kayak.
rhythm of paddle,
soft breeze, bird song, eaglet cries:
morning symphony
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QM: ‘searching for wild mind’ is wonderful.
Hi everyone, I see you’ve all kept creatively busy. As for me:
On cyber-ocean
sometimes make landfall only
once in a long while.
Have been on my travels, through other syllables and spaces. But just wanted to let you know that the Red Ravine Haiku Ripple continues to spread. I have some pre-intermediate (and that is LOW level English) Japanese students this week, so I threw them into English haiku (Japanese version optional) to see what would happen. The URL for the results follows – I think they’d be chuffed as anything if one or two of you could find it in your hearts to comment on anything they wrote – comments in pre-intermediate English of course [or Japanese], and preferably in the form of haiku! – they are all about 18 or so (except one Italian lady), and who knows if one of them might at that tender age be precipitated into the arms of poetry for a lifetime!
http://94stranger.wordpress.com/2009/08/12/haiku-from-students/
Peace!
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stranger, so great to hear from you. And what a fantastic job you have. I just stopped by your blog and left a few comments. Some really wonderful haiku there. I hope other red Ravine readers who write haiku with us here will check them out. I’m curious how the experience was for the Japanese students (and one Italian!) to write haiku in English, since, of course, the art form has been alive in their country for thousands of years. Would love to hear more about it. Maybe I’ll stop by your site at a later time and turn one of their haiku into a tanka (though I’m pretty new at tanka).
ybonesy is out of the country in Vietnam. I’ll be sure to make sure she sees this when she gets back. (Or she might on her check-in but her time logged in is limited.) I’m so appreciative that you stopped by, stranger, on a haiku ripple. 8)
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[…] -related to posts: WRITING TOPIC – TOOLS OF THE TRADE, haiku 2 (one-a-day) […]
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It’s almost 1:30am where I am. I am indeed exhausted, but thrilled to know that I have finally finished summer school! However, I am awake and extremely thirsty for poetry or anything creative and artistic! 😛 I have missed this place and can finally return! However, in my absence from here, I am still practicing my Daily Haiku Challenge. However, I have stretched it to include tanka, senryu, six-word stories, American sentences, and micropoetry. The process of writing short forms of poetry is fascinating since I tend to be rather wordy and hence, write rather lengthy poems. Nevertheless, this haiku journey is so fruitful, and I am happy to say how we collaborate and share our work on here–it’s magnificent and profound. I am learning so much from all of you and look forward to spend a few minutes on here everyday if I can.
@94stranger: I have visited your site and am pleased to read your students’ haiku. I love the simplicity of them; for some, I like their keen observation. Thank you so much for sharing the haiku experience with us. 8)
And now for a few of my haiku, senryu, and tanka since I haven’t posted here for a while now. Please enjoy!
———————————
in sepia photos
I still think of you
wrapped in honeybee scents
humming over the river
lost in your apostrophes (tanka)
sky parenthesis
a flock of black wings through silver
streams of clouds
falling down in
exclamation points
only the rain
can demand such attention
before getting lost in puddles (tanka)
on my chest
a blank journal counts my breaths
during my sleep
summer playtime
I find myself
among matted wings of bats
the tree and I
play shadow puppets (tanka)
More of my work can be found at Twitter: http://twitter.com/alotus_poetry. I also do a monthly compilation of all of this work over at http://alotus-poetry.livejournal.com.
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3 Haiku
In the Season of Dragon Fruits
Magenta dragon fruits blossom
on the side
of tropical cacti
rain drizzles
to twelve inches
Hurricane season
Seasons
In the tropics
they measure seasons
thus:
Lychee season
Mango season
Dragon fruit season
Slipper Orchid season
Hurricane Season
The black seeds that spot
the deep magenta of
soft,sweet dragon fruits
tropical nopalitos
contain hurricanes
jewelled with
rainbows
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late summer evening
rubbery smell
of tires
skidding along my side
the biker boy trying to catch my eye (tanka)
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Thanks QM and others who’ve dropped by – I really appreciate. Don’t know exactly what the Japanese hieroglyphics are – a ‘free translation’ of the English, as far as I know.
I was re-reading QM’s preface to the original haiku launch last year, and I think it’s true and very strange how this focus on the outer in some bizarre way becomes an activator of the inner – I don’t pretend to understand it, but I feel it.
I’m writing a little poetry, not haiku by and large, and again it’s intriguing how the effort of conforming to a strict rhythm and rhyme scheme, which ought to be purely a constraint, can nevertheless be a liberation. Anyone know why?
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To 94stranger,
I think the liberation comes from knowing the structure. Once Natalie decided what the structure for “Bones” was, to paraphrase her liberally, she was able to let it rip. Knowing the structure, rather than being a limitation, can open things up.
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stranger, thanks for stopping by again. It was a pleasure to visit your site and see all the haiku from your Japanese students. Thanks for bringing it to our attention.
About your question, Robert Morse is exactly right. The liberation comes from the actual structure. The concept seems at odds but that’s what works.
I learned about structure in two places: one was from Natalie Goldberg (as Robert Morse mentions) around my writing. The other was in art school at MCAD and with my professors there. They taught me that in order to deviate and break structure in my art, I first needed to learn how the masters did it. Once I learned the history of art and photography, the structure of the way others created, I was free to break it.
Of course there are tons self-taught artists who go about learning about art differently and do brilliant work. There are many ways to learn and that was just the way I was taught.
With the writing, it was Natalie who really drove it home for me. I learn the structure of Writing Practice, or haiku, slow walking or meditation, work within those structures for a long time (even though I want to rebel against them), then I get to break them and make them my own.
The truth is I always go back to the structure when I get stuck, am feeling down, or like my writing or art isn’t worth a darn. The structure keeps me going through hard times. The structure frees me up to work within it. Odd but true.
Sorry to go on so long about it but it reminded me that this blog that ybonesy and I created all these years ago now was created around a structure we learned about writing. One that we learned, believed in, and wanted to pass on to others. And now we break it in all kinds of ways. But usually always go back.
I’m grateful to all who visit and participate on red Ravine. I learn so much from all of you. Deep gratitude.
_____________
balanced on a pin
within or out of structure
community holds
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morning glory
the butterfly’s wings
catches silk
and wet drops of sunlight
underneath the spider’s walk (tanka)
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balanced on a pin
within or out of structure
community holds
a meditative journey
the power of one collective voice
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Thanks Robert and QM – it’s a rare treat to have you guys reflect deeply on something which, by and large, is a doing here on RR – which I’m sure is the way it should be.
Pigeons peck up crumbs
so small I can’t even see.
Stay close to the ground!
And there’s a strange thing – a piece of writing (i.e. this above) which goes from thought to haiku with no doctoring, manipulation, syllable searching etc… a rare thing for me – almost a first.
And I learn from you too – this is why I take off sometimes – paradox only apparent.
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I really have some catching up to do! So much travel this summer…all enjoyable. Thanks, QM, for your haiku written after my trip to yours and Liz’s home…made me smile. I drove home this Saturday from Cheyenne, in rain showers, inspiring this haiku:
driving, dodging drops
wipers keep time to bluegrass
rain, road and rhythm
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I’ve been writing a lot of tanka lately (posted on Twitter). Here are a few:
Chinese buffet
sparrows line up
at the entrance
pecking on
scattered fried rice and sesame seeds
a bruised sky
on a Friday
my thoughts flicker
like SOS signals
only you can decipher
the scrape
of your nails
across the chalkboard
makes my knees buckle
and my eyes water
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lotus, so glad summer school is over for you. Will you be starting a new semester in the Fall? Or are you done? I also appreciate when you stop by here and leave your poetry. It’s a gift. I’ve seen your work on Twitter as well and know your poetry practice is going strong! [BTW, like how you completed the tanka on community.]
Feroza, so great to see you on red Ravine. And thanks for leaving your haiku here. Hope you stop by again.
breathepeace, no kayak lessons needed, eh? That is good to know. I guess we’ll just have to take a chance and dive into one of the lakes here like you have done. May not happen this summer. But maybe next.
stranger, thanks for stopping by again. One other thing about practice and structure — it can be anything. It can be haiku, writing practice, mandalas, painting. Anything we practice regularly takes us new places, helps us through when times get lean. And something like haiku or writing practice can enrich our art practices. It’s so great how it works that way. It’s all a cycle.
_____________
out to the garden
summer in her last hurrah
has a gift for me
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[…] -related to too many posts to mention them all, but here are few: Birthday Of Mabel Dodge Luhan, Sunrise On Taos Mountain (Reflections On Writing Retreats), Sitting in Solidarity, A Taste Of Ghost Ranch, and haiku 2 (one-a-day). […]
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@QM: It was a short break. I am now starting school again this week (for the fall)! LOL. Looks like I may be in school for years to come. I’m glad you like the community tanka; that’s how I feel whenever I come to visit you and everyone else here on red Ravine. 8) It’s become one of my favorite homes online. I’m glad you say my poetry is a gift. It is something I have learned to accept because I want to be able to write poetry for the mental health/psychiatric field because for them words and emotions go so strongly together, and I hope the words I write will heal those who are in pain.
Here are a few psychologically charged ones I’ve written:
brushing over
these thorny bushes
my hands
now remember how they felt
when you abused me (tanka)
couple arguing
in the distance
thunder claps
with strong hands
grandfather used to chop sugarcane
into toothbrushes
but now his hands are too stiff
to mime how tall I’ve grown (tanka)
And to lighten the heavy atmosphere a bit:
in our front yard
a splendid thousand suns
the orange tree
from the bird bath
taking a little sip
a stray dog
Chinese buffet
sparrows line up
at the entrance
pecking on
scattered fried rice and sesame seeds (tanka)
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Nice work, A~Lotus. I’m drawn to the grandfather and sugar cane one. And the Chinese buffet. I’m glad you are broaching painful subjects in your work. Poetry seems a good place to do that. I have no doubt your work will be healing for others.
Can not believe you are back in school already. Is it daunting to know you’ll be in school for some time to come? I remember when Liz was back in school for 2 years and working full-time. She felt like it took her a long time to complete her classes but she stuck with it and graduated. What a joyful day that was.
I’m glad this is one of your homes away from home on the electronic page. Remember to keep breathing when you’re rushing from class to work to class!
____________
green berries, red stems
monarch brushes blackened screen
bumping against wind
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Hi QM, yb, a~ lotus, et al,
It was nice to visit Red Ravine and then see your VERY informative piece on Haiku,QM. Next time I teach poetry, I’ll send students to the site… It was good to see Clark on there too.. “Seeds” really taught me a lot about practice and sitting. I’m supposed to revise a “feminist” article I wrote about silence, into one about the strengths of silence… And I will draw on our intensive to write about that– but alas, I think they want me to make it scholarly… so I’ll send the meditative piece to you all, if you’ll consider it… well, first of all it is nice to still be alive after the scare the doc gave me in the Spring.. I’m taking my chemo in Hawaii and there is something about Hawaii that inspires Haiku. So I wanted to add a few more after today’s gorgeous sunset. When I was “diagnosed” for the second time this past spring, I wanted to change my spiritual memoir to”Prayers and Practices for survival,” to “Bad God: Loving God for Better or for Worse.” Maybe I’ll get on Clark’s site and put some of my thoughts down. And just after QM’s comment I happened to drive past a Kayak store! I thought one only kayaked on the Rio Grande… And as we speak, write, our colleagues are sitting in Maybel’s zendo.. send some love for us to Georgia’s blue flowers:
Anyway,
my dancing orchids
each day, twist and turn to face
the shifting sun
the august sun
hits the water while i chase
the elusive green flash
(QM, someday you have to photograph that– if you can actually catch it– in its split second)
the water kisses the sky
on the distant southern horizon
in a jealous green flash
I have a vast expanse of ocean outside my window, a view I’m likely to loose again, like I lost the one of the watermelon Sandias, because someone is building a many million dollar house with an elevator. But on one side the view from Pearl Harbor and the airport towards Waikiki will stay and I can watch the cruise ships go by.
mock orange fragrances
the night time drizzle
aromatherapy for a summer evening
Goodnight
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@QM: I am glad you are enjoying my work just as I’m enjoying yours. 8) It is an interesting journey to be able to write what is painful although sometimes the pain (of whatever that may be) has never been my personal experience. For example, if the pain is about cancer, I would like to write about that even if I have not experienced it myself. It is my hope to reach out to others that way. 🙂
It is sometimes daunting to think about how many more years I’ll be in school. But since I already have a degree in psych, I’m only going forward to pursue nursing school. After that, I want to be done BEING in school, but not necessarily be done with education itself. After all, education is a lifelong process. I think some people forget about that fact. And yes, sometimes we have to stick to things in order to see the end of the tunnel! lol
@Feroza Jussawalla: Thank you for continuing to join us in this writing journey. Your writing is lovely. I will pray for your speedy and comforting recovery and rest. I am glad that you are finding writing and teaching something wonderful in your life. I think in the human experience, these two things are the oldest forms of human connection and strength. God bless.
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looking into puddles
my cheeks dimpled
with raindrops
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driving home
through the night
I lost your pearly smile
in the midst
of pine trees (tanka)
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umbrellas open
wet, lacy pines blow raindrops
tall dignitaries
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TEACHER-FROM-HELL HAIKU
“Don’t play with your words.
–Look! You just spilled some of them!
Have you no manners?”
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reading your poems
I count the times you make me smile
this morning glory
flying south
our love
growing further apart
like bird specks
in the marbled skies (tanka)
not alone
I wake up smiling
to the sun
sharing
my pillow (tanka)
picking seeds
from the pomegranate
I taste the deepest red
of our lovemaking
humming along with cicadas (tanka)
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holding
a tiny heart
within my hands
this hummingbird has already seen
the entire world with its wings (tanka)
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Feroza, sending prayers and good energy to you in Hawaii. Thank you for leaving your beautiful poetry here. I imagine the ocean is a good muse. I think the strengths of silence are many, though silence seems harder and harder to come by in our world today. Sounds like a great topic. BTW, sun on water is indeed hard to photograph.
Laura, A~Lotus, Robert Morse, I continue to enjoy your haiku and look forward to your visits here!
_____________
mid-September blooms
small frog near a toad lily
fading summer dreams
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QM, we must be thinking along the same lines. I wrote this one yesterday. D
Sun bursts through the clouds
autumn attempts sneak preview
lonely rosebud blooms
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[…] Mister Potato hero among veggies Here to save the day -Related to topic post I Found Potatoes In My Pantry (& They Scared The Hell Out Of Me) and haiku 2 (one-a-day) […]
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[…] -related to post: haiku 2 (one-a-day) […]
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purple Rebel waits
noisy fan sprays me with air
tailwind drives me home
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somehow
this late summer winds
through my chest
and I am left shivering
with a cold and a dull heartache (tanka)
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head bobbing, weaving
robin sits on roof gutter
slow to catch my eye
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[…] -related to post: haiku 2 (one-a-day) […]
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White clouds hovering
Rorschach Tests up in the sky.
“I swear that’s a swan.”
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cerulean sky
over green cottonwood leaves
fading to yellow
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[…] to posts: haiku 2 (one-a-day), Are You River, Desert, Mountains, Ocean, Lake, City, Or None Of The […]
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sin weighs heavily
across my shoulders a robe
difficult to wear
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just like pirate’s map
contrails form white vapor X
over precious Earth
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brutal autumn wind
rips limb from old cottonwood —
I stand as witness
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Wonderful to see all of your haiku here. I feel like I am among friends after writing haiku, senryu, tanka, renga with you for several years. Thanks breathepeace, oliverowl, Robert Morse, A~Lotus, diddy.
_______
finally, the rain
hot, humid, dry September
proves to be a tease
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Stumbled upon this site while searching out Haiku examples, really do like what I see here.
I don’t consider myself a very good Haiku writer, but would appreciate any advice on these attempts of mine;
a subtle sunset
succumbs to autumn’s eve –
‘I wish you were here’
…………………………………..
quarter light shadows
dull clarity to a haze –
ant hills are mountains
…………………………………..
chaos on the battle field
helmets strewn in autumn dusk –
harvest time again
…………………………………..
fireflies flicker
within autumns sunset –
slowly my plane lands
………………………………….
sprinklers whispering
shimmering ‘cross summer lawns –
house burning brightly
………………………………….
grey-red mosaic
drying below the May sun
a recent roadkill
………………………………….
opaque midday moon
creates halo above earth
yet darkness falls fast
monsoon hides stars
as day becomes dusky
man is colourless
………………………………….
stood on broken snow
deer smoulder silently –
caught in cross-hairs
…………………………………
And my fav of all i’ve ever written
sunbathing wet stones
beneath waterfalls cascade –
dog with cocked leg
………………………………….
Hope this post isn’t too long, would really like honest comments.
Take care
Fug
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for you, Littlebit
and those that loved you so much
may you rest in peace
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@QM and yb: Has it really been over a year since I’ve taken this writing journey with the both of you? Wow! Along the way, I’m learning so much from you both! It is amazing and never cease to be boring! I love how we share all our artwork within our writings too. The creative spirit is always nurtured that way–like how stories are nurtured and become more exciting around a bonfire or a campfire! That’s why I’ve adopted this place as my writing home as well. 8) It’s a way to rest from the stresses in life. I too am thankful and glad to join you ladies in this writing adventure/journey.
@Fug: Thank you for sharing your work with us. They all have lovely images, and some are profound. I enjoyed them immensely. 🙂
——————————-
My tanka for today:
riding a raft
out of a dead leaf
a caterpillar
swims upstream
towards a drainage pipe
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A~Lotus, yes, can you believe it? Almost one full year has passed again. I’m glad you feel at home here. Because I’d sure miss you if you didn’t stop by. I appreciate your haiku and positive comments. Thank you.
Fug-azi, I enjoyed the haiku you left and hope you’re still writing. I like the “quarter light shadows” haiku. Hope you stop by again.
________
black cat sleeps on couch
shadows fall near the full moon
eyes droop with the weight
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fug, “grey red mosaic” is haunting … a powerful haiku.
fierce wind starts and stops
returns cold and leaves no doubt:
summer is over
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Fug,
I enjoyed your work. My favorite, if I must choose, is the first, “a subtle sunset.” There is a definite leap that the reader must make from the second to the third lines.
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Thank you all for your comments, gives me hope that perhaps I can, after all, write something close to a Haiku.
………………………..
early april showers
timber shudders –
chainsaw cuts deep
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Lovely senryu and haiku I’m reading today. Thought I can get us back on track with a renga again hopefully?
black cat sleeps on couch
shadows fall near the full moon
eyes droop with the weight–
these heavy bags
that the heart carries
LikeLike
Fug-azi, I’m so glad you came back to add your haiku. And thanks to all who gave feedback. So wonderful to visit this thread of haiku writers. It has a calming influence on me.
A~Lotus, THANK YOU for getting the renga going again. It was what I had hoped to learn this year on this haiku post – the fine art of linking haiku and senryu with other haiku writers. And it’s only October, plenty of time to explore renga a little more.
Adding on to your tanka to keep renga going:
________________
black cat sleeps on couch
shadows fall near the full moon
eyes droop with the weight–
these heavy bags
that the heart carries
sun hides behind gray
burdens are what we make them
dark hinges on light
LikeLike
black cat sleeps on couch
shadows fall near the full moon
eyes droop with the weight–
these heavy bags
that the heart carries
sun hides behind gray
burdens are what we make them
dark hinges on light
a forty watt sun
brings only hues of comfort –
false hope arises
LikeLike
black cat sleeps on couch
shadows fall near the full moon
eyes droop with the weight–
these heavy bags
that the heart carries
sun hides behind gray
burdens are what we make them
dark hinges on light
a forty watt sun
brings only hues of comfort –
false hope arises;
100 ways of seeing
the unpaved roads less traveled
LikeLike
after the rain
feet-deep in mud
white ducks
sloshing
towards a sunlit ground
LikeLike
black cat sleeps on couch
shadows fall near the full moon
eyes droop with the weight–
these heavy bags
that the heart carries
sun hides behind gray
burdens are what we make them
dark hinges on light
a forty watt sun
brings only hues of comfort –
false hope arises;
100 ways of seeing
the unpaved roads less traveled
on this journey
I collect many sticks and stones–
all for a bonfire
LikeLike
black cat sleeps on couch
shadows fall near the full moon
eyes droop with the weight–
these heavy bags
that the heart carries
sun hides behind gray
burdens are what we make them
dark hinges on light
a forty watt sun
brings only hues of comfort –
false hope arises;
100 ways of seeing
the unpaved roads less traveled
on this journey
I collect many sticks and stones–
all for a bonfire
trailing in the wake of stars
yet untouched by human hands
LikeLike
black cat sleeps on couch
shadows fall near the full moon
eyes droop with the weight–
these heavy bags
that the heart carries
sun hides behind gray
burdens are what we make them
dark hinges on light
a forty watt sun
brings only hues of comfort –
false hope arises;
100 ways of seeing
the unpaved roads less traveled
on this journey
I collect many sticks and stones–
all for a bonfire
trailing in the wake of stars
yet untouched by human hands
on a stargazer lily–
a mantis praying
to the sun
LikeLike
black cat sleeps on couch
shadows fall near the full moon
eyes droop with the weight–
these heavy bags
that the heart carries
sun hides behind gray
burdens are what we make them
dark hinges on light
a forty watt sun
brings only hues of comfort –
false hope arises;
100 ways of seeing
the unpaved roads less traveled
on this journey
I collect many sticks and stones–
all for a bonfire
trailing in the wake of stars
yet untouched by human hands
on a stargazer lily–
a mantis praying
to the sun…
is it that I am not worthy
enough to touch the heavens?
LikeLike
black cat sleeps on couch
shadows fall near the full moon
eyes droop with the weight–
these heavy bags
that the heart carries
sun hides behind gray
burdens are what we make them
dark hinges on light
a forty watt sun
brings only hues of comfort –
false hope arises;
100 ways of seeing
the unpaved roads less traveled
on this journey
I collect many sticks and stones–
all for a bonfire
trailing in the wake of stars
yet untouched by human hands
on a stargazer lily–
a mantis praying
to the sun…
is it that I am not worthy
enough to touch the heavens?
winter sun–
snow angels catching
the snowman’s tears
LikeLike
black cat sleeps on couch
shadows fall near the full moon
eyes droop with the weight–
these heavy bags
that the heart carries
sun hides behind gray
burdens are what we make them
dark hinges on light
a forty watt sun
brings only hues of comfort –
false hope arises;
100 ways of seeing
the unpaved roads less traveled
on this journey
I collect many sticks and stones–
all for a bonfire
trailing in the wake of stars
yet untouched by human hands
on a stargazer lily–
a mantis praying
to the sun…
is it that I am not worthy
enough to touch the heavens?
winter sun–
snow angels catching
the snowman’s tears;
drops glisten, Icarus wings
doused by the cries of children
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[…] to posts This Time Of Year, Irrigation Day In The Rio Grande Valley and haiku 2 (one-a-day). Possibly related posts: (automatically generated)lifeline — rio grande haikucold haikuThe Mighty […]
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Winter makes debut
sparrows huddled at feeders
snow dust on their wings
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Building on the haiku of breathepeace & Fuz-azi to create tanka, and the start of a new renga.
___________________
opaque midday moon
creates halo above earth
yet darkness falls fast —
what’s lurking in the shadows?
Fear numbs, leaves no time to dwell.
fierce wind starts and stops
returns cold and leaves no doubt:
summer is over;
biting frost wilts the Spirit,
reflection ignites new spark.
LikeLike
opaque midday moon
creates halo above earth
yet darkness falls fast –
what’s lurking in the shadows?
Fear numbs, leaves no time to dwell.
fierce wind starts and stops
returns cold and leaves no doubt:
summer is over;
biting frost wilts the Spirit,
reflection ignites new spark.
by the fireplace,
the candle and I
dance to pages in my notebook
LikeLike
opaque midday moon
creates halo above earth
yet darkness falls fast –
what’s lurking in the shadows?
Fear numbs, leaves no time to dwell.
fierce wind starts and stops
returns cold and leaves no doubt:
summer is over;
biting frost wilts the Spirit,
reflection ignites new spark.
by the fireplace,
the candle and I
dance to pages in my notebook —
letters expose obscure words,
teach me to read between lines
LikeLike
[…] -related to post: haiku 2 (one-a-day) […]
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One seagull feather
hairy sculptures of seagrass
piled up on the dunes
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[…] All is well on my travels. Wrote these haiku on the plane yesterday morning. So much has happened since I arrived in Pennsylvania. Feels like I’ve been […]
LikeLike
morning in Georgia
dense fog over Clarks Hill Lake
clarity of mind
LikeLike
One seagull feather
hairy sculptures of seagrass
piled up on the dunes;
lady bugs and beetles land,
shelter from the cold, coarse sand
LikeLike
Hello from Taos … and a couple haiku:
room full of sniffles
outside chamisa blooming
neither one will stop
church bells chiming noon
faithful rush to attend mass
God is sitting here
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Wonderful to hear from you in Taos, breathepeace. Greetings from morning in Georgia:
family pillars
Aunt Cassie and Uncle Claude
live on through stories
Clarks Hill Lake at dawn
pulling me into the fog
a woodpecker drums
grazing middle age
amazed by what I don’t know
I wouldn’t go back
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FOR NATALIE
keep your hand moving
worst shit in America
even with haiku
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the leaf would not leave
persistent, stubborn, clinging
to frosted windshield
Boy, have I missed writing haiku! Hope my life gets back to normal, soon, so I can do more!
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Ha! oo, you should come to our house!
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[…] to posts: haiku 2 (one-a-day), WRITING TOPIC — MEMORIES OF CARS, WRITING TOPIC– ROADSIDE ATTRACTIONS, you can’t […]
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I sing the joys of
Physical therapy. Where
New aches meet old ones.
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Hello everyone! I’ve been gone for quite a while! Whew! It’s good to sit a while and write haiku.
Please enjoy!
ellipses–
cloud puffs arrange and rearrange
my list of worries
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Bitter persimmons replace
Sweet mangoes on steamy afternoons
October vog in Hawaii
(Snow in Albuquerque)
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One seagull feather
hairy sculptures of seagrass
piled up on the dunes;
lady bugs and beetles land,
shelter from the cold, coarse sand
found in the sand
someone lost a loved one–
this wedding band
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Great to see you all here — Robert Morse, A~Lotus, oliverowl, Feroza, breathpeace, diddy. Adding on to the last renga:
One seagull feather
hairy sculptures of seagrass
piled up on the dunes;
lady bugs and beetles land,
shelter from the cold, coarse sand
found in the sand
someone lost a loved one–
this wedding band,
years of what could and could not
happen in a span of life
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TO ALL: just found this site and I really like it! I wanted to try I’m guessing what would be called “tanka” style!
One seagull feather
hairy sculptures of seagrass
piled up on the dunes;
lady bugs and beetles land,
shelter from the cold, coarse sand
found in the sand
someone lost a loved one–
this wedding band,
years of what could and could not
happen in a span of life
lifes changing seasons
happy, sad, up, down, laugh, cry-
stay or go away
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Seraph, thanks for stopping by and adding your poetry. Hope you’ll come back. Adding to the renga:
____________
One seagull feather
hairy sculptures of seagrass
piled up on the dunes;
lady bugs and beetles land,
shelter from the cold, coarse sand
found in the sand
someone lost a loved one–
this wedding band,
years of what could and could not
happen in a span of life
lifes changing seasons
happy, sad, up, down, laugh, cry-
stay or go away;
underneath the roiling waves
calm moonlight draws me back in
LikeLike
@QM: It’s wonderful to start writing more renga. After all, instead of NaNoWriMo this month, I’m doing a solo renga, which will have its own complete post on my poetry website. 8) I want to see how far I can go with the verses.
—————————————————–
One seagull feather
hairy sculptures of seagrass
piled up on the dunes;
lady bugs and beetles land,
shelter from the cold, coarse sand
found in the sand
someone lost a loved one–
this wedding band,
years of what could and could not
happen in a span of life
lifes changing seasons
happy, sad, up, down, laugh, cry-
stay or go away;
underneath the roiling waves
calm moonlight draws me back in
breathing in bath salts,
I think of the tears I tasted
when you said goodbye
LikeLike
Thank you QM…I really enjoy this site and junction of everyones creative thoughts!!! Lotus—what is your poetry site address? I’d like to check it out!
************************************************
One seagull feather
hairy sculptures of seagrass
piled up on the dunes;
lady bugs and beetles land,
shelter from the cold, coarse sand
found in the sand
someone lost a loved one–
this wedding band,
years of what could and could not
happen in a span of life
lifes changing seasons
happy, sad, up, down, laugh, cry-
stay or go away;
underneath the roiling waves
calm moonlight draws me back in
breathing in bath salts,
I think of the tears I tasted
when you said goodbye
bitter wind off oceans spray
turns my heart cold like that day
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wind floats leaves to sky
dried foilage touches blue and white-
looking out front door
sun shines between leaf bared limbs
smile-turn to go start my day
WOW! That felt really good to try! my first tanka..i think? This would be a fun job!! LOL!!!!
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A~Lotus, the solo renga sounds challenging. What a great exercise and practice. Hope you’ll drop the link in for us.
Seraph, I always love it when new people join in the tanka and renga. It’s been fun this year to see what’s happened with this post. I’ve been churning over the new post for next year. We’ll see where it goes.
Keeping the renga going:
____________
One seagull feather
hairy sculptures of seagrass
piled up on the dunes;
lady bugs and beetles land,
shelter from the cold, coarse sand
found in the sand
someone lost a loved one–
this wedding band,
years of what could and could not
happen in a span of life
lifes changing seasons
happy, sad, up, down, laugh, cry-
stay or go away;
underneath the roiling waves
calm moonlight draws me back in
breathing in bath salts,
I think of the tears I tasted
when you said goodbye
bitter wind off oceans spray
turns my heart cold like that day
bare truth, baldfaced lie,
why does nothing satisfy?
how fickle my heart
LikeLike
@Seraph: Here’s my link: http://alotus-poetry.livejournal.com. Scroll down to about 4 posts, and you can read a whole bunch of Japanese poetry and other short form poetry that I’ve been writing this year. As of now, I have over 500. Enjoy!
@QM: Will post the solo renga when November is over. 🙂
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@QM: P.S. I can’t wait to see what’s in store for the new year’s post! 8)
—————————————
One seagull feather
hairy sculptures of seagrass
piled up on the dunes;
lady bugs and beetles land,
shelter from the cold, coarse sand
found in the sand
someone lost a loved one–
this wedding band,
years of what could and could not
happen in a span of life
lifes changing seasons
happy, sad, up, down, laugh, cry-
stay or go away;
underneath the roiling waves
calm moonlight draws me back in
breathing in bath salts,
I think of the tears I tasted
when you said goodbye
bitter wind off oceans spray
turns my heart cold like that day
bare truth, baldfaced lie,
why does nothing satisfy?
how fickle my heart
swinging between trees
like a hammock
LikeLike
Thanks A~Lotus!!!!
One seagull feather
hairy sculptures of seagrass
piled up on the dunes;
lady bugs and beetles land,
shelter from the cold, coarse sand
found in the sand
someone lost a loved one–
this wedding band,
years of what could and could not
happen in a span of life
lifes changing seasons
happy, sad, up, down, laugh, cry-
stay or go away;
underneath the roiling waves
calm moonlight draws me back in
breathing in bath salts,
I think of the tears I tasted
when you said goodbye
bitter wind off oceans spray
turns my heart cold like that day
bare truth, baldfaced lie,
why does nothing satisfy?
how fickle my heart
swinging between trees
like a hammock
creaking bending trees
crying out pains agony-
red eyes of griefs lava tears
LikeLike
Wow, this is so fun to watch. I want to play:
_______________________
One seagull feather
hairy sculptures of seagrass
piled up on the dunes;
lady bugs and beetles land,
shelter from the cold, coarse sand
found in the sand
someone lost a loved one–
this wedding band,
years of what could and could not
happen in a span of life
lifes changing seasons
happy, sad, up, down, laugh, cry-
stay or go away;
underneath the roiling waves
calm moonlight draws me back in
breathing in bath salts,
I think of the tears I tasted
when you said goodbye
bitter wind off oceans spray
turns my heart cold like that day
bare truth, baldfaced lie,
why does nothing satisfy?
how fickle my heart
swinging between trees
like a hammock
creaking bending trees
crying out pains agony-
red eyes of griefs lava tears
into the wind I let it go
a feather across the sand
LikeLike
@yb: Lovely addition to the renga!! 8) Thanks for joining us! 🙂
——————————–
One seagull feather
hairy sculptures of seagrass
piled up on the dunes;
lady bugs and beetles land,
shelter from the cold, coarse sand
found in the sand
someone lost a loved one–
this wedding band,
years of what could and could not
happen in a span of life
lifes changing seasons
happy, sad, up, down, laugh, cry-
stay or go away;
underneath the roiling waves
calm moonlight draws me back in
breathing in bath salts,
I think of the tears I tasted
when you said goodbye
bitter wind off oceans spray
turns my heart cold like that day
bare truth, baldfaced lie,
why does nothing satisfy?
how fickle my heart
swinging between trees
like a hammock
creaking bending trees
crying out pains agony-
red eyes of griefs lava tears
into the wind I let it go
a feather across the sand
between power lines
the crows can’t decide whether
to leave or stay
LikeLike
Continue. Continue. Continue. More renga.
——————————–
One seagull feather
hairy sculptures of seagrass
piled up on the dunes;
lady bugs and beetles land,
shelter from the cold, coarse sand
found in the sand
someone lost a loved one–
this wedding band,
years of what could and could not
happen in a span of life
lifes changing seasons
happy, sad, up, down, laugh, cry-
stay or go away;
underneath the roiling waves
calm moonlight draws me back in
breathing in bath salts,
I think of the tears I tasted
when you said goodbye
bitter wind off oceans spray
turns my heart cold like that day
bare truth, baldfaced lie,
why does nothing satisfy?
how fickle my heart
swinging between trees
like a hammock
creaking bending trees
crying out pains agony-
red eyes of griefs lava tears
into the wind I let it go
a feather across the sand
between power lines
the crows can’t decide whether
to leave or stay
feet hold fast to shifting ground
head says run through whir of wire
LikeLike
Maybe I like this ending better. A little shift between feet and head:
——————————–
One seagull feather
hairy sculptures of seagrass
piled up on the dunes;
lady bugs and beetles land,
shelter from the cold, coarse sand
found in the sand
someone lost a loved one–
this wedding band,
years of what could and could not
happen in a span of life
lifes changing seasons
happy, sad, up, down, laugh, cry-
stay or go away;
underneath the roiling waves
calm moonlight draws me back in
breathing in bath salts,
I think of the tears I tasted
when you said goodbye
bitter wind off oceans spray
turns my heart cold like that day
bare truth, baldfaced lie,
why does nothing satisfy?
how fickle my heart
swinging between trees
like a hammock
creaking bending trees
crying out pains agony-
red eyes of griefs lava tears
into the wind I let it go
a feather across the sand
between power lines
the crows can’t decide whether
to leave or stay
feet hold fast to whir of wire
head says run to shifting ground
LikeLike
bare oak branches hide
behind the dancing Fall skies
drawing down the Moon
LikeLike
One seagull feather
hairy sculptures of seagrass
piled up on the dunes;
lady bugs and beetles land,
shelter from the cold, coarse sand
found in the sand
someone lost a loved one–
this wedding band,
years of what could and could not
happen in a span of life
lifes changing seasons
happy, sad, up, down, laugh, cry-
stay or go away;
underneath the roiling waves
calm moonlight draws me back in
breathing in bath salts,
I think of the tears I tasted
when you said goodbye
bitter wind off oceans spray
turns my heart cold like that day
bare truth, baldfaced lie,
why does nothing satisfy?
how fickle my heart
swinging between trees
like a hammock
creaking bending trees
crying out pains agony-
red eyes of griefs lava tears
into the wind I let it go
a feather across the sand
between power lines
the crows can’t decide whether
to leave or stay
feet hold fast to whir of wire
head says run to shifting ground
from the earth
a crack
of fresh earthworms
LikeLike
A~Lotus, this might be the longest renga we’ve all kept going yet. Rewarding.
_________
One seagull feather
hairy sculptures of seagrass
piled up on the dunes;
lady bugs and beetles land,
shelter from the cold, coarse sand
found in the sand
someone lost a loved one–
this wedding band,
years of what could and could not
happen in a span of life
lifes changing seasons
happy, sad, up, down, laugh, cry-
stay or go away;
underneath the roiling waves
calm moonlight draws me back in
breathing in bath salts,
I think of the tears I tasted
when you said goodbye
bitter wind off oceans spray
turns my heart cold like that day
bare truth, baldfaced lie,
why does nothing satisfy?
how fickle my heart
swinging between trees
like a hammock
creaking bending trees
crying out pains agony-
red eyes of griefs lava tears
into the wind I let it go
a feather across the sand
between power lines
the crows can’t decide whether
to leave or stay
feet hold fast to whir of wire
head says run to shifting ground
from the earth
a crack
of fresh earthworms
slither through the pouring rain
clinging to last bits of life
LikeLike
Winter Approaches haiku trilogy
___________________
dark when I arise
a day’s work and darker yet
where is the sunlight?
Earth plays close to vest
Solstice hides in the shadows
seasonal secrets
Winter searches skies
looking for the Northern Star
to find her way home
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@QM: Indeed. I love to see how there are so many people jumping in with the renga! 8)
———————————
One seagull feather
hairy sculptures of seagrass
piled up on the dunes;
lady bugs and beetles land,
shelter from the cold, coarse sand
found in the sand
someone lost a loved one–
this wedding band,
years of what could and could not
happen in a span of life
lifes changing seasons
happy, sad, up, down, laugh, cry-
stay or go away;
underneath the roiling waves
calm moonlight draws me back in
breathing in bath salts,
I think of the tears I tasted
when you said goodbye
bitter wind off oceans spray
turns my heart cold like that day
bare truth, baldfaced lie,
why does nothing satisfy?
how fickle my heart
swinging between trees
like a hammock
creaking bending trees
crying out pains agony-
red eyes of griefs lava tears
into the wind I let it go
a feather across the sand
between power lines
the crows can’t decide whether
to leave or stay
feet hold fast to whir of wire
head says run to shifting ground
from the earth
a crack
of fresh earthworms
slither through the pouring rain
clinging to last bits of life
the soccer field–
a marshland for herons
after the rain
LikeLike
[…] to posts: haiku 2 (one-a-day), haiku for Kohler Arts Possibly related posts: (automatically generated)My YarnAwakening the Dragon […]
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[…] ybonesy takes off her mask to unveil her Etsy store, featuring these new items: daily haiku Post Yours Here guest writers & featured artists Michelle McCaulley – October 2009 Bob Chrisman – October […]
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Happy Sunday, A~Lotus.
———————————
One seagull feather
hairy sculptures of seagrass
piled up on the dunes;
lady bugs and beetles land,
shelter from the cold, coarse sand
found in the sand
someone lost a loved one–
this wedding band,
years of what could and could not
happen in a span of life
lifes changing seasons
happy, sad, up, down, laugh, cry-
stay or go away;
underneath the roiling waves
calm moonlight draws me back in
breathing in bath salts,
I think of the tears I tasted
when you said goodbye
bitter wind off oceans spray
turns my heart cold like that day
bare truth, baldfaced lie,
why does nothing satisfy?
how fickle my heart
swinging between trees
like a hammock
creaking bending trees
crying out pains agony-
red eyes of griefs lava tears
into the wind I let it go
a feather across the sand
between power lines
the crows can’t decide whether
to leave or stay
feet hold fast to whir of wire
head says run to shifting ground
from the earth
a crack
of fresh earthworms
slither through the pouring rain
clinging to last bits of life
the soccer field–
a marshland for herons
after the rain
reminds me of Nebraska
slow drum of Janis Ian
naked oak and birch
still in the November wind
haiku for the sky
LikeLike
@QM: Thank you so much! Happy Sunday to you, too! I enjoyed my day today as it is my birthday (AND I don’t have work!)! 8)
———————–
One seagull feather
hairy sculptures of seagrass
piled up on the dunes;
lady bugs and beetles land,
shelter from the cold, coarse sand
found in the sand
someone lost a loved one–
this wedding band,
years of what could and could not
happen in a span of life
lifes changing seasons
happy, sad, up, down, laugh, cry-
stay or go away;
underneath the roiling waves
calm moonlight draws me back in
breathing in bath salts,
I think of the tears I tasted
when you said goodbye
bitter wind off oceans spray
turns my heart cold like that day
bare truth, baldfaced lie,
why does nothing satisfy?
how fickle my heart
swinging between trees
like a hammock
creaking bending trees
crying out pains agony-
red eyes of griefs lava tears
into the wind I let it go
a feather across the sand
between power lines
the crows can’t decide whether
to leave or stay
feet hold fast to whir of wire
head says run to shifting ground
from the earth
a crack
of fresh earthworms
slither through the pouring rain
clinging to last bits of life
the soccer field–
a marshland for herons
after the rain
reminds me of Nebraska
slow drum of Janis Ian
naked oak and birch
still in the November wind
haiku for the sky
only my breath caught
in the branches
LikeLike
One seagull feather
hairy sculptures of seagrass
piled up on the dunes;
lady bugs and beetles land,
shelter from the cold, coarse sand
found in the sand
someone lost a loved one–
this wedding band,
years of what could and could not
happen in a span of life
lifes changing seasons
happy, sad, up, down, laugh, cry-
stay or go away;
underneath the roiling waves
calm moonlight draws me back in
breathing in bath salts,
I think of the tears I tasted
when you said goodbye
bitter wind off oceans spray
turns my heart cold like that day
bare truth, baldfaced lie,
why does nothing satisfy?
how fickle my heart
swinging between trees
like a hammock
creaking bending trees
crying out pains agony-
red eyes of griefs lava tears
into the wind I let it go
a feather across the sand
between power lines
the crows can’t decide whether
to leave or stay
feet hold fast to whir of wire
head says run to shifting ground
from the earth
a crack
of fresh earthworms
slither through the pouring rain
clinging to last bits of life
the soccer field–
a marshland for herons
after the rain
reminds me of Nebraska
slow drum of Janis Ian
naked oak and birch
still in the November wind
haiku for the sky
only my breath caught
in the branches
birdsong–
my dog echoes the warbler
with her sore throat
LikeLike
A~Lotus, so December 15th is your birthday? Happy belated birthday!
___________________
One seagull feather
hairy sculptures of seagrass
piled up on the dunes;
lady bugs and beetles land,
shelter from the cold, coarse sand
found in the sand
someone lost a loved one–
this wedding band,
years of what could and could not
happen in a span of life
lifes changing seasons
happy, sad, up, down, laugh, cry-
stay or go away;
underneath the roiling waves
calm moonlight draws me back in
breathing in bath salts,
I think of the tears I tasted
when you said goodbye
bitter wind off oceans spray
turns my heart cold like that day
bare truth, baldfaced lie,
why does nothing satisfy?
how fickle my heart
swinging between trees
like a hammock
creaking bending trees
crying out pains agony-
red eyes of griefs lava tears
into the wind I let it go
a feather across the sand
between power lines
the crows can’t decide whether
to leave or stay
feet hold fast to whir of wire
head says run to shifting ground
from the earth
a crack
of fresh earthworms
slither through the pouring rain
clinging to last bits of life
the soccer field–
a marshland for herons
after the rain
reminds me of Nebraska
slow drum of Janis Ian
naked oak and birch
still in the November wind
haiku for the sky
only my breath caught
in the branches
birdsong–
my dog echoes the warbler
with her sore throat;
the trill can be heard for miles,
is the bark worse than the bite?
LikeLike
@QM: Thank you! It was a wonderful Sunday! 🙂
——————————————-
One seagull feather
hairy sculptures of seagrass
piled up on the dunes;
lady bugs and beetles land,
shelter from the cold, coarse sand
found in the sand
someone lost a loved one–
this wedding band,
years of what could and could not
happen in a span of life
lifes changing seasons
happy, sad, up, down, laugh, cry-
stay or go away;
underneath the roiling waves
calm moonlight draws me back in
breathing in bath salts,
I think of the tears I tasted
when you said goodbye
bitter wind off oceans spray
turns my heart cold like that day
bare truth, baldfaced lie,
why does nothing satisfy?
how fickle my heart
swinging between trees
like a hammock
creaking bending trees
crying out pains agony-
red eyes of griefs lava tears
into the wind I let it go
a feather across the sand
between power lines
the crows can’t decide whether
to leave or stay
feet hold fast to whir of wire
head says run to shifting ground
from the earth
a crack
of fresh earthworms
slither through the pouring rain
clinging to last bits of life
the soccer field–
a marshland for herons
after the rain
reminds me of Nebraska
slow drum of Janis Ian
naked oak and birch
still in the November wind
haiku for the sky
only my breath caught
in the branches
birdsong–
my dog echoes the warbler
with her sore throat;
the trill can be heard for miles,
is the bark worse than the bite?
from the birch tree
I peel away the bark
and write this haiku
LikeLike
532.
One seagull feather
hairy sculptures of seagrass
piled up on the dunes;
lady bugs and beetles land,
shelter from the cold, coarse sand
found in the sand
someone lost a loved one–
this wedding band,
years of what could and could not
happen in a span of life
lifes changing seasons
happy, sad, up, down, laugh, cry-
stay or go away;
underneath the roiling waves
calm moonlight draws me back in
breathing in bath salts,
I think of the tears I tasted
when you said goodbye
bitter wind off oceans spray
turns my heart cold like that day
bare truth, baldfaced lie,
why does nothing satisfy?
how fickle my heart
swinging between trees
like a hammock
creaking bending trees
crying out pains agony-
red eyes of griefs lava tears
into the wind I let it go
a feather across the sand
between power lines
the crows can’t decide whether
to leave or stay
feet hold fast to whir of wire
head says run to shifting ground
from the earth
a crack
of fresh earthworms
slither through the pouring rain
clinging to last bits of life
the soccer field–
a marshland for herons
after the rain
reminds me of Nebraska
slow drum of Janis Ian
naked oak and birch
still in the November wind
haiku for the sky
only my breath caught
in the branches
birdsong–
my dog echoes the warbler
with her sore throat;
the trill can be heard for miles,
is the bark worse than the bite?
from the birch tree
I peel away the bark
and write this haiku
I find the sap sweet, congealed
While my tears remain bitter
The backyard rubble
Holds wisps of waylaid dreams It’s
Slim pickings for birds.
LikeLike
@Robert: Wonderful addition to our renga! 8)
——————————————
One seagull feather
hairy sculptures of seagrass
piled up on the dunes;
lady bugs and beetles land,
shelter from the cold, coarse sand
found in the sand
someone lost a loved one–
this wedding band,
years of what could and could not
happen in a span of life
lifes changing seasons
happy, sad, up, down, laugh, cry-
stay or go away;
underneath the roiling waves
calm moonlight draws me back in
breathing in bath salts,
I think of the tears I tasted
when you said goodbye
bitter wind off oceans spray
turns my heart cold like that day
bare truth, baldfaced lie,
why does nothing satisfy?
how fickle my heart
swinging between trees
like a hammock
creaking bending trees
crying out pains agony-
red eyes of griefs lava tears
into the wind I let it go
a feather across the sand
between power lines
the crows can’t decide whether
to leave or stay
feet hold fast to whir of wire
head says run to shifting ground
from the earth
a crack
of fresh earthworms
slither through the pouring rain
clinging to last bits of life
the soccer field–
a marshland for herons
after the rain
reminds me of Nebraska
slow drum of Janis Ian
naked oak and birch
still in the November wind
haiku for the sky
only my breath caught
in the branches
birdsong–
my dog echoes the warbler
with her sore throat;
the trill can be heard for miles,
is the bark worse than the bite?
from the birch tree
I peel away the bark
and write this haiku
I find the sap sweet, congealed
While my tears remain bitter
The backyard rubble
Holds wisps of waylaid dreams It’s
Slim pickings for birds;
they are dreamcatchers
tying each nightmare to the bare branches.
LikeLike
One seagull feather
hairy sculptures of seagrass
piled up on the dunes;
lady bugs and beetles land,
shelter from the cold, coarse sand
found in the sand
someone lost a loved one–
this wedding band,
years of what could and could not
happen in a span of life
lifes changing seasons
happy, sad, up, down, laugh, cry-
stay or go away;
underneath the roiling waves
calm moonlight draws me back in
breathing in bath salts,
I think of the tears I tasted
when you said goodbye
bitter wind off oceans spray
turns my heart cold like that day
bare truth, baldfaced lie,
why does nothing satisfy?
how fickle my heart
swinging between trees
like a hammock
creaking bending trees
crying out pains agony-
red eyes of griefs lava tears
into the wind I let it go
a feather across the sand
between power lines
the crows can’t decide whether
to leave or stay
feet hold fast to whir of wire
head says run to shifting ground
from the earth
a crack
of fresh earthworms
slither through the pouring rain
clinging to last bits of life
the soccer field–
a marshland for herons
after the rain
reminds me of Nebraska
slow drum of Janis Ian
naked oak and birch
still in the November wind
haiku for the sky
only my breath caught
in the branches
birdsong–
my dog echoes the warbler
with her sore throat;
the trill can be heard for miles,
is the bark worse than the bite?
from the birch tree
I peel away the bark
and write this haiku
I find the sap sweet, congealed
While my tears remain bitter
The backyard rubble
Holds wisps of waylaid dreams It’s
Slim pickings for birds;
they are dreamcatchers
tying each nightmare to bare branches.
(Actually, I like this one better without the extra “the”.)
LikeLike
A~Lotus & Robert Morse, really nice. Lotus, I do that, too, reworking sometimes. I like it without the “the,” too.
_____________-
One seagull feather
hairy sculptures of seagrass
piled up on the dunes;
lady bugs and beetles land,
shelter from the cold, coarse sand
found in the sand
someone lost a loved one–
this wedding band,
years of what could and could not
happen in a span of life
lifes changing seasons
happy, sad, up, down, laugh, cry-
stay or go away;
underneath the roiling waves
calm moonlight draws me back in
breathing in bath salts,
I think of the tears I tasted
when you said goodbye
bitter wind off oceans spray
turns my heart cold like that day
bare truth, baldfaced lie,
why does nothing satisfy?
how fickle my heart
swinging between trees
like a hammock
creaking bending trees
crying out pains agony-
red eyes of griefs lava tears
into the wind I let it go
a feather across the sand
between power lines
the crows can’t decide whether
to leave or stay
feet hold fast to whir of wire
head says run to shifting ground
from the earth
a crack
of fresh earthworms
slither through the pouring rain
clinging to last bits of life
the soccer field–
a marshland for herons
after the rain
reminds me of Nebraska
slow drum of Janis Ian
naked oak and birch
still in the November wind
haiku for the sky
only my breath caught
in the branches
birdsong–
my dog echoes the warbler
with her sore throat;
the trill can be heard for miles,
is the bark worse than the bite?
from the birch tree
I peel away the bark
and write this haiku
I find the sap sweet, congealed
While my tears remain bitter
The backyard rubble
Holds wisps of waylaid dreams It’s
Slim pickings for birds;
they are dreamcatchers
tying each nightmare to bare branches.
crows light on the wing
Raven holds November court
while hummers fly South
LikeLike
One seagull feather
hairy sculptures of seagrass
piled up on the dunes;
lady bugs and beetles land,
shelter from the cold, coarse sand
found in the sand
someone lost a loved one–
this wedding band,
years of what could and could not
happen in a span of life
lifes changing seasons
happy, sad, up, down, laugh, cry-
stay or go away;
underneath the roiling waves
calm moonlight draws me back in
breathing in bath salts,
I think of the tears I tasted
when you said goodbye
bitter wind off oceans spray
turns my heart cold like that day
bare truth, baldfaced lie,
why does nothing satisfy?
how fickle my heart
swinging between trees
like a hammock
creaking bending trees
crying out pains agony-
red eyes of griefs lava tears
into the wind I let it go
a feather across the sand
between power lines
the crows can’t decide whether
to leave or stay
feet hold fast to whir of wire
head says run to shifting ground
from the earth
a crack
of fresh earthworms
slither through the pouring rain
clinging to last bits of life
the soccer field–
a marshland for herons
after the rain
reminds me of Nebraska
slow drum of Janis Ian
naked oak and birch
still in the November wind
haiku for the sky
only my breath caught
in the branches
birdsong–
my dog echoes the warbler
with her sore throat;
the trill can be heard for miles,
is the bark worse than the bite?
from the birch tree
I peel away the bark
and write this haiku
I find the sap sweet, congealed
While my tears remain bitter
The backyard rubble
Holds wisps of waylaid dreams It’s
Slim pickings for birds;
they are dreamcatchers
tying each nightmare to bare branches.
crows light on the wing
Raven holds November court
while hummers fly South
dipping in the sunlight
they pull away the clouds
LikeLike
One seagull feather
hairy sculptures of seagrass
piled up on the dunes;
lady bugs and beetles land,
shelter from the cold, coarse sand
found in the sand
someone lost a loved one–
this wedding band,
years of what could and could not
happen in a span of life
lifes changing seasons
happy, sad, up, down, laugh, cry-
stay or go away;
underneath the roiling waves
calm moonlight draws me back in
breathing in bath salts,
I think of the tears I tasted
when you said goodbye
bitter wind off oceans spray
turns my heart cold like that day
bare truth, baldfaced lie,
why does nothing satisfy?
how fickle my heart
swinging between trees
like a hammock
creaking bending trees
crying out pains agony-
red eyes of griefs lava tears
into the wind I let it go
a feather across the sand
between power lines
the crows can’t decide whether
to leave or stay
feet hold fast to whir of wire
head says run to shifting ground
from the earth
a crack
of fresh earthworms
slither through the pouring rain
clinging to last bits of life
the soccer field–
a marshland for herons
after the rain
reminds me of Nebraska
slow drum of Janis Ian
naked oak and birch
still in the November wind
haiku for the sky
only my breath caught
in the branches
birdsong–
my dog echoes the warbler
with her sore throat;
the trill can be heard for miles,
is the bark worse than the bite?
from the birch tree
I peel away the bark
and write this haiku
I find the sap sweet, congealed
While my tears remain bitter
The backyard rubble
Holds wisps of waylaid dreams It’s
Slim pickings for birds;
they are dreamcatchers
tying each nightmare to bare branches.
crows light on the wing
Raven holds November court
while hummers fly South
dipping in the sunlight
they pull away the clouds
Sun sextile Saturn
Thanksgiving relationships
may take a quick turn
LikeLike
[…] to post: haiku 2 (one-a-day) Possibly related posts: (automatically generated)Tuesday’s Blog Hop– Sweet Georgia […]
LikeLike
Thanksgiving already?
The turkey gets the hatchet
Then here comes Santa.
A surprise attack,
Neighbor’s Xmas lights are on,
Pre-emptive bastard.
And so it begins,
the big Thanksgiving countdown,
5-4-3-2-feast!
No-guilt Thanksgiving,
any ‘li’l orphan turkeys,
go to Foster Farms.
The counterattack!
Bandoliers of xmas lights,
staple gun in-hand.
Swaying on ladder,
A sly smile creeps over me,
Christmas Shock & Awe.
Donner and Blitzen,
are Lightening and Thunder,
What about Rudolph?
Its a Noble Fir
until day after Christmas,
then its a dead tree.
Then comes New Years eve,
Banging, tooting and blowing,
1 & 2 sound good.
LikeLike
“Gobble-gobble-gob…”
(hatchet sound, the line moves up)
“Gobble-gobble-gob…”
LikeLike
Staple, then plug in,
lest Edison’s Medicine,
be sampled first-hand.
(re: hanging the Christmas lights)
LikeLike
Consummatum est,
ab inconvenienti,
Omnibus lucet.
(re: hanging the Christmas lights)
LikeLike
Walljasper, you’ve got some rockin’ poetry there. Your sense of humor comes out in the poetry. It reminds me of Robert Morse’s style. I like it. Welcome to red Ravine.
A~Lotus, did I read on Twitter that you’re taking a hiatus from poetry until the beginning of December? Will miss you. Can you believe another year has flown by. Whoa.
________
Thanksgiving’s over
Midwest darkness comes early
full stomach, light heart
LikeLike
Adding a few lines to make a tanka from Walljasper’s haiku:
Staple, then plug in,
lest Edison’s Medicine,
be sampled first-hand.
And the Ghost of Christmas past
glows wildly across the land.
LikeLike
Ah – QuinMonkey – I like the calm resolve of your poetry re: Thanksgiving.
Your tanka addtion made me smile. ‘Really like the tanka tradition – it’s wonderful.
And thank you for your kind welcome. Happy Thanksgiving.
Walljasper
LikeLike
Adding a few lines to make a tanka from QuinMonkey haiku:
Thanksgiving’s over
Midwest darkness comes early
full stomach, light heart
The sky fades to black sable,
My joys, the glimmer of stars.
LikeLike
Revision already. 😉 Adding a few lines to make a tanka from QuinMonkey haiku:
Thanksgiving’s over
Midwest darkness comes early
full stomach, light heart
Skies fade, dark sea of sable,
My joys, the glimmer of stars.
LikeLike
Walljasper, thank you. Hope your Holiday was wonderful as well. Really fun to have you here on the haiku post. It’s a joy for me when new people drop in. Adds so much to the practice. Moving into renga with your last tanka. Happy Friday.
__________
Thanksgiving’s over
Midwest darkness comes early
full stomach, light heart
Skies fade, dark sea of sable,
My joys, the glimmer of stars.
Black Friday glows red
dewy frost on window panes
grounds the scattered mind
LikeLike
[…] -related to post: haiku 2 (one-a-day) […]
LikeLike
Oh no! Just got a haiku from a friend and turned him on to tanka, adding 2 7-syllable lines to his haiku.
Happiness with friends
Turkey, Stuffing, Wine and laughs
Nap on the sofa
Stomach growls, its time to eat.
Hey, it’s been fifteen minutes.
I blame QuoinMonkey. Heheh. 😉
LikeLike
Walljasper, fun tanka. I’d love to take the blame! It’s fun to turn others on to tanka and renga. To expand the practice. Still pondering the new haiku post for 2010. Hope your friend likes the tanka!
I’m going to keep going with this older renga, see what happens. It’s the longest one we’ve had going in this post this year. All are free to join in!
____________
One seagull feather
hairy sculptures of seagrass
piled up on the dunes;
lady bugs and beetles land,
shelter from the cold, coarse sand
found in the sand
someone lost a loved one–
this wedding band,
years of what could and could not
happen in a span of life
lifes changing seasons
happy, sad, up, down, laugh, cry-
stay or go away;
underneath the roiling waves
calm moonlight draws me back in
breathing in bath salts,
I think of the tears I tasted
when you said goodbye
bitter wind off oceans spray
turns my heart cold like that day
bare truth, baldfaced lie,
why does nothing satisfy?
how fickle my heart
swinging between trees
like a hammock
creaking bending trees
crying out pains agony-
red eyes of griefs lava tears
into the wind I let it go
a feather across the sand
between power lines
the crows can’t decide whether
to leave or stay
feet hold fast to whir of wire
head says run to shifting ground
from the earth
a crack
of fresh earthworms
slither through the pouring rain
clinging to last bits of life
the soccer field–
a marshland for herons
after the rain
reminds me of Nebraska
slow drum of Janis Ian
naked oak and birch
still in the November wind
haiku for the sky
only my breath caught
in the branches
birdsong–
my dog echoes the warbler
with her sore throat;
the trill can be heard for miles,
is the bark worse than the bite?
from the birch tree
I peel away the bark
and write this haiku
I find the sap sweet, congealed
While my tears remain bitter
The backyard rubble
Holds wisps of waylaid dreams It’s
Slim pickings for birds;
they are dreamcatchers
tying each nightmare to bare branches.
crows light on the wing
Raven holds November court
while hummers fly South
dipping in the sunlight
they pull away the clouds
Sun sextile Saturn
Thanksgiving relationships
may take a quick turn
family feuds holding still —
peace returns, if just one day
on the corner, the Raven
returning for a quick meal
dissolves into night
LikeLike
Adding to your haiku to create a tanka:
———————————
on the corner, the Raven
returning for a quick meal
dissolves into night
The autumn also takes wing,
A snowflake heralds winter.
LikeLike
Thanks, Walljasper! I’m going to add it into the renga and keep going.
____________
One seagull feather
hairy sculptures of seagrass
piled up on the dunes;
lady bugs and beetles land,
shelter from the cold, coarse sand
found in the sand
someone lost a loved one–
this wedding band,
years of what could and could not
happen in a span of life
lifes changing seasons
happy, sad, up, down, laugh, cry-
stay or go away;
underneath the roiling waves
calm moonlight draws me back in
breathing in bath salts,
I think of the tears I tasted
when you said goodbye
bitter wind off oceans spray
turns my heart cold like that day
bare truth, baldfaced lie,
why does nothing satisfy?
how fickle my heart
swinging between trees
like a hammock
creaking bending trees
crying out pains agony-
red eyes of griefs lava tears
into the wind I let it go
a feather across the sand
between power lines
the crows can’t decide whether
to leave or stay
feet hold fast to whir of wire
head says run to shifting ground
from the earth
a crack
of fresh earthworms
slither through the pouring rain
clinging to last bits of life
the soccer field–
a marshland for herons
after the rain
reminds me of Nebraska
slow drum of Janis Ian
naked oak and birch
still in the November wind
haiku for the sky
only my breath caught
in the branches
birdsong–
my dog echoes the warbler
with her sore throat;
the trill can be heard for miles,
is the bark worse than the bite?
from the birch tree
I peel away the bark
and write this haiku
I find the sap sweet, congealed
While my tears remain bitter
The backyard rubble
Holds wisps of waylaid dreams It’s
Slim pickings for birds;
they are dreamcatchers
tying each nightmare to bare branches.
crows light on the wing
Raven holds November court
while hummers fly South
dipping in the sunlight
they pull away the clouds
Sun sextile Saturn
Thanksgiving relationships
may take a quick turn
family feuds holding still –
peace returns, if just one day
on the corner, the Raven
returning for a quick meal
dissolves into night
The autumn also takes wing,
A snowflake heralds winter.
trees crawl toward the sky
ochre moonlight silhouettes
dreaming of Solstice
LikeLike
One seagull feather
hairy sculptures of seagrass
piled up on the dunes;
lady bugs and beetles land,
shelter from the cold, coarse sand
found in the sand
someone lost a loved one–
this wedding band,
years of what could and could not
happen in a span of life
lifes changing seasons
happy, sad, up, down, laugh, cry-
stay or go away;
underneath the roiling waves
calm moonlight draws me back in
breathing in bath salts,
I think of the tears I tasted
when you said goodbye
bitter wind off oceans spray
turns my heart cold like that day
bare truth, baldfaced lie,
why does nothing satisfy?
how fickle my heart
swinging between trees
like a hammock
creaking bending trees
crying out pains agony-
red eyes of griefs lava tears
into the wind I let it go
a feather across the sand
between power lines
the crows can’t decide whether
to leave or stay
feet hold fast to whir of wire
head says run to shifting ground
from the earth
a crack
of fresh earthworms
slither through the pouring rain
clinging to last bits of life
the soccer field–
a marshland for herons
after the rain
reminds me of Nebraska
slow drum of Janis Ian
naked oak and birch
still in the November wind
haiku for the sky
only my breath caught
in the branches
birdsong–
my dog echoes the warbler
with her sore throat;
the trill can be heard for miles,
is the bark worse than the bite?
from the birch tree
I peel away the bark
and write this haiku
I find the sap sweet, congealed
While my tears remain bitter
The backyard rubble
Holds wisps of waylaid dreams It’s
Slim pickings for birds;
they are dreamcatchers
tying each nightmare to bare branches.
crows light on the wing
Raven holds November court
while hummers fly South
dipping in the sunlight
they pull away the clouds
Sun sextile Saturn
Thanksgiving relationships
may take a quick turn
family feuds holding still –
peace returns, if just one day
on the corner, the Raven
returning for a quick meal
dissolves into night
The autumn also takes wing,
A snowflake heralds winter.
trees crawl toward the sky
ochre moonlight silhouettes
dreaming of Solstice
The nights are long and heavy
but soon the light will lift us.
LikeLike
Nice, ybonesy.
___________
One seagull feather
hairy sculptures of seagrass
piled up on the dunes;
lady bugs and beetles land,
shelter from the cold, coarse sand
found in the sand
someone lost a loved one–
this wedding band,
years of what could and could not
happen in a span of life
lifes changing seasons
happy, sad, up, down, laugh, cry-
stay or go away;
underneath the roiling waves
calm moonlight draws me back in
breathing in bath salts,
I think of the tears I tasted
when you said goodbye
bitter wind off oceans spray
turns my heart cold like that day
bare truth, baldfaced lie,
why does nothing satisfy?
how fickle my heart
swinging between trees
like a hammock
creaking bending trees
crying out pains agony-
red eyes of griefs lava tears
into the wind I let it go
a feather across the sand
between power lines
the crows can’t decide whether
to leave or stay
feet hold fast to whir of wire
head says run to shifting ground
from the earth
a crack
of fresh earthworms
slither through the pouring rain
clinging to last bits of life
the soccer field–
a marshland for herons
after the rain
reminds me of Nebraska
slow drum of Janis Ian
naked oak and birch
still in the November wind
haiku for the sky
only my breath caught
in the branches
birdsong–
my dog echoes the warbler
with her sore throat;
the trill can be heard for miles,
is the bark worse than the bite?
from the birch tree
I peel away the bark
and write this haiku
I find the sap sweet, congealed
While my tears remain bitter
The backyard rubble
Holds wisps of waylaid dreams It’s
Slim pickings for birds;
they are dreamcatchers
tying each nightmare to bare branches.
crows light on the wing
Raven holds November court
while hummers fly South
dipping in the sunlight
they pull away the clouds
Sun sextile Saturn
Thanksgiving relationships
may take a quick turn
family feuds holding still –
peace returns, if just one day
on the corner, the Raven
returning for a quick meal
dissolves into night
The autumn also takes wing,
A snowflake heralds winter.
trees crawl toward the sky
ochre moonlight silhouettes
dreaming of Solstice
The nights are long and heavy
but soon the light will lift us.
trenches around fire
reflected deep in your eyes
labyrinthine pools
LikeLike
Wow… I’m impressed how long this renga is going! 8)
——————————-
One seagull feather
hairy sculptures of seagrass
piled up on the dunes;
lady bugs and beetles land,
shelter from the cold, coarse sand
found in the sand
someone lost a loved one–
this wedding band,
years of what could and could not
happen in a span of life
lifes changing seasons
happy, sad, up, down, laugh, cry-
stay or go away;
underneath the roiling waves
calm moonlight draws me back in
breathing in bath salts,
I think of the tears I tasted
when you said goodbye
bitter wind off oceans spray
turns my heart cold like that day
bare truth, baldfaced lie,
why does nothing satisfy?
how fickle my heart
swinging between trees
like a hammock
creaking bending trees
crying out pains agony-
red eyes of griefs lava tears
into the wind I let it go
a feather across the sand
between power lines
the crows can’t decide whether
to leave or stay
feet hold fast to whir of wire
head says run to shifting ground
from the earth
a crack
of fresh earthworms
slither through the pouring rain
clinging to last bits of life
the soccer field–
a marshland for herons
after the rain
reminds me of Nebraska
slow drum of Janis Ian
naked oak and birch
still in the November wind
haiku for the sky
only my breath caught
in the branches
birdsong–
my dog echoes the warbler
with her sore throat;
the trill can be heard for miles,
is the bark worse than the bite?
from the birch tree
I peel away the bark
and write this haiku
I find the sap sweet, congealed
While my tears remain bitter
The backyard rubble
Holds wisps of waylaid dreams It’s
Slim pickings for birds;
they are dreamcatchers
tying each nightmare to bare branches.
crows light on the wing
Raven holds November court
while hummers fly South
dipping in the sunlight
they pull away the clouds
Sun sextile Saturn
Thanksgiving relationships
may take a quick turn
family feuds holding still –
peace returns, if just one day
on the corner, the Raven
returning for a quick meal
dissolves into night
The autumn also takes wing,
A snowflake heralds winter.
trees crawl toward the sky
ochre moonlight silhouettes
dreaming of Solstice
The nights are long and heavy
but soon the light will lift us.
trenches around fire
reflected deep in your eyes
labyrinthine pools…
I think of the night we held
each other from our own shadows
LikeLike
One seagull feather
hairy sculptures of seagrass
piled up on the dunes;
lady bugs and beetles land,
shelter from the cold, coarse sand
found in the sand
someone lost a loved one–
this wedding band,
years of what could and could not
happen in a span of life
lifes changing seasons
happy, sad, up, down, laugh, cry-
stay or go away;
underneath the roiling waves
calm moonlight draws me back in
breathing in bath salts,
I think of the tears I tasted
when you said goodbye
bitter wind off oceans spray
turns my heart cold like that day
bare truth, baldfaced lie,
why does nothing satisfy?
how fickle my heart
swinging between trees
like a hammock
creaking bending trees
crying out pains agony-
red eyes of griefs lava tears
into the wind I let it go
a feather across the sand
between power lines
the crows can’t decide whether
to leave or stay
feet hold fast to whir of wire
head says run to shifting ground
from the earth
a crack
of fresh earthworms
slither through the pouring rain
clinging to last bits of life
the soccer field–
a marshland for herons
after the rain
reminds me of Nebraska
slow drum of Janis Ian
naked oak and birch
still in the November wind
haiku for the sky
only my breath caught
in the branches
birdsong–
my dog echoes the warbler
with her sore throat;
the trill can be heard for miles,
is the bark worse than the bite?
from the birch tree
I peel away the bark
and write this haiku
I find the sap sweet, congealed
While my tears remain bitter
The backyard rubble
Holds wisps of waylaid dreams It’s
Slim pickings for birds;
they are dreamcatchers
tying each nightmare to bare branches.
crows light on the wing
Raven holds November court
while hummers fly South
dipping in the sunlight
they pull away the clouds
Sun sextile Saturn
Thanksgiving relationships
may take a quick turn
family feuds holding still –
peace returns, if just one day
on the corner, the Raven
returning for a quick meal
dissolves into night
The autumn also takes wing,
A snowflake heralds winter.
trees crawl toward the sky
ochre moonlight silhouettes
dreaming of Solstice
The nights are long and heavy
but soon the light will lift us.
trenches around fire
reflected deep in your eyes
labyrinthine pools…
I think of the night we held
each other from our own shadows
Your softest caress,
each tremble and kiss of tress,
a single raindrop.
LikeLike
So sorry to intrude on the flow , however, tonight I must add a very simple one of my own, though it might be a bummer to some. It comes from my heart.
for every life
there is a reason to live
and there is an end
Rest in peace, Uncle Francis. Rest in peace. You went hunting today & found peace. I loved you so much!
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Hello everyone! Here was my solo renga I wrote for November, although I wished I had more time to finish it. Ah well. I can always start on another solo renga. 8)
http://alotus-poetry.livejournal.com/82425.html
LikeLike
It has come to this:
An ad on a vomit bag.
Is nothing sacred?
LikeLike
Added two line to Robert Morses haiku to create a tanka.
It has come to this:
An ad on a vomit bag.
Is nothing sacred?
Sacred cow branding?
Or designer-stigmatas?
Open your hands and hearts,
Brand all with love and kindness,
lest they wander lost.
LikeLike
It has come to this:
An ad on a vomit bag.
Is nothing sacred?
Sacred cow branding?
Or designer-stigmatas?
Open your hands and hearts,
Brand all with love and kindness,
lest they wander lost.
Besides, emetophobes won’t…
I repeat, won’t read puke bags.
LikeLike
It has come to this:
An ad on a vomit bag.
Is nothing sacred?
Sacred cow branding?
Or designer-stigmatas?
Open your hands and hearts,
Brand all with love and kindness,
lest they wander lost.
Besides, emetophobes won’t…
I repeat, won’t read puke bags.
Offer them ideas.
A greasy pork chop and fried octopus,
from dirty ashtray.
These are mental images,
to cure one of mal de mer.
LikeLike
It has come to this:
An ad on a vomit bag.
Is nothing sacred?
Sacred cow branding?
Or designer-stigmatas?
Open your hands and hearts,
Brand all with love and kindness,
lest they wander lost.
Besides, emetophobes won’t…
I repeat, won’t read puke bags.
Offer them ideas.
A greasy pork chop and fried octopus,
from dirty ashtray.
These are mental images,
to cure one of mal de mer.
Yet, on second thought
one might not regain sea legs
while eating frog’s legs
LikeLike
It has come to this:
An ad on a vomit bag.
Is nothing sacred?
Sacred cow branding?
Or designer-stigmatas?
Open your hands and hearts,
Brand all with love and kindness,
lest they wander lost.
Besides, emetophobes won’t…
I repeat, won’t read puke bags.
Offer them ideas.
A greasy pork chop and fried octopus,
from dirty ashtray.
These are mental images,
to cure one of mal de mer.
Yet, on second thought
one might not regain sea legs
while eating frog’s legs.
Probing the divine flower,
calms and flattens stomachs.
LikeLike
alittlediddy
So sorry to hear of the passing of your Uncle Francis. I hope that it be ok to build a tanka upon your kind haiku..
for every life
there is a reason to live
and there is an end
And in this divine resort,
God grant us late, quick checkout.
LikeLike
Continuing the diddy/Walljasper tanka:
________
for every life
there is a reason to live
and there is an end
And in this divine resort,
God grant us late, quick checkout.
soulful salvation
a rest of quiet peace; not
exasperation
LikeLike
Continuing the Robert Morse/yb/Walljasper renga:
_____________
It has come to this:
An ad on a vomit bag.
Is nothing sacred?
Sacred cow branding?
Or designer-stigmatas?
Open your hands and hearts,
Brand all with love and kindness,
lest they wander lost.
Besides, emetophobes won’t…
I repeat, won’t read puke bags.
Offer them ideas.
A greasy pork chop and fried octopus,
from dirty ashtray.
These are mental images,
to cure one of mal de mer.
Yet, on second thought
one might not regain sea legs
while eating frog’s legs.
Probing the divine flower,
calms and flattens stomachs.
jumping through mind hoops
e.e. cummings comes to mind;
humor of Mark Twain
LikeLike
Continuing the group renga:
_________________
One seagull feather
hairy sculptures of seagrass
piled up on the dunes;
lady bugs and beetles land,
shelter from the cold, coarse sand
found in the sand
someone lost a loved one–
this wedding band,
years of what could and could not
happen in a span of life
lifes changing seasons
happy, sad, up, down, laugh, cry-
stay or go away;
underneath the roiling waves
calm moonlight draws me back in
breathing in bath salts,
I think of the tears I tasted
when you said goodbye
bitter wind off oceans spray
turns my heart cold like that day
bare truth, baldfaced lie,
why does nothing satisfy?
how fickle my heart
swinging between trees
like a hammock
creaking bending trees
crying out pains agony-
red eyes of griefs lava tears
into the wind I let it go
a feather across the sand
between power lines
the crows can’t decide whether
to leave or stay
feet hold fast to whir of wire
head says run to shifting ground
from the earth
a crack
of fresh earthworms
slither through the pouring rain
clinging to last bits of life
the soccer field–
a marshland for herons
after the rain
reminds me of Nebraska
slow drum of Janis Ian
naked oak and birch
still in the November wind
haiku for the sky
only my breath caught
in the branches
birdsong–
my dog echoes the warbler
with her sore throat;
the trill can be heard for miles,
is the bark worse than the bite?
from the birch tree
I peel away the bark
and write this haiku
I find the sap sweet, congealed
While my tears remain bitter
The backyard rubble
Holds wisps of waylaid dreams It’s
Slim pickings for birds;
they are dreamcatchers
tying each nightmare to bare branches.
crows light on the wing
Raven holds November court
while hummers fly South
dipping in the sunlight
they pull away the clouds
Sun sextile Saturn
Thanksgiving relationships
may take a quick turn
family feuds holding still –
peace returns, if just one day
on the corner, the Raven
returning for a quick meal
dissolves into night
The autumn also takes wing,
A snowflake heralds winter.
trees crawl toward the sky
ochre moonlight silhouettes
dreaming of Solstice
The nights are long and heavy
but soon the light will lift us.
trenches around fire
reflected deep in your eyes
labyrinthine pools…
I think of the night we held
each other from our own shadows
Your softest caress,
each tremble and kiss of tress,
a single raindrop,
creating dry dust devils
littered with blurred distinctions.
LikeLike
#
Continuing the Robert Morse/yb/Walljasper renga:
_____________
It has come to this:
An ad on a vomit bag.
Is nothing sacred?
Sacred cow branding?
Or designer-stigmatas?
Open your hands and hearts,
Brand all with love and kindness,
lest they wander lost.
Besides, emetophobes won’t…
I repeat, won’t read puke bags.
Offer them ideas.
A greasy pork chop and fried octopus,
from dirty ashtray.
These are mental images,
to cure one of mal de mer.
Yet, on second thought
one might not regain sea legs
while eating frog’s legs.
Probing the divine flower,
calms and flattens stomachs.
jumping through mind hoops
e.e. cummings comes to mind;
humor of Mark Twain
Whole lotta jumpin’ go’n on
In Calaveras County.
Sliding through worm holes
Ol’ H. G. Wells comes to mind;
Brakes would be handy.
LikeLike
[…] ybonesy wrote about art as play, community art, something dear to our hearts on red Ravine. The renga has heated up in the Daily Haiku. And we made plans to go to Lake Pepin in the Midwest writing group I am a part […]
LikeLike
Continuing the Robert Morse/yb/Walljasper renga:
_____________
It has come to this:
An ad on a vomit bag.
Is nothing sacred?
Sacred cow branding?
Or designer-stigmatas?
Open your hands and hearts,
Brand all with love and kindness,
lest they wander lost.
Besides, emetophobes won’t…
I repeat, won’t read puke bags.
Offer them ideas.
A greasy pork chop and fried octopus,
from dirty ashtray.
These are mental images,
to cure one of mal de mer.
Yet, on second thought
one might not regain sea legs
while eating frog’s legs.
Probing the divine flower,
calms and flattens stomachs.
jumping through mind hoops
e.e. cummings comes to mind;
humor of Mark Twain
Whole lotta jumpin’ go’n on
In Calaveras County.
Sliding through worm holes
Ol’ H. G. Wells comes to mind;
Brakes would be handy.
Invisible man flees scene,
hoping someone will see him.
LikeLike
Or Aldous Huxley,
Seer of socialist folly,
Eyeless In Gaza.
A voice for Albert Hoffman
or at least his Problem Child.
LikeLike
Continuing the Robert Morse/yb/Walljasper renga:
_____________
It has come to this:
An ad on a vomit bag.
Is nothing sacred?
Sacred cow branding?
Or designer-stigmatas?
Open your hands and hearts,
Brand all with love and kindness,
lest they wander lost.
Besides, emetophobes won’t…
I repeat, won’t read puke bags.
Offer them ideas.
A greasy pork chop and fried octopus,
from dirty ashtray.
These are mental images,
to cure one of mal de mer.
Yet, on second thought
one might not regain sea legs
while eating frog’s legs.
Probing the divine flower,
calms and flattens stomachs.
jumping through mind hoops
e.e. cummings comes to mind;
humor of Mark Twain
Whole lotta jumpin’ go’n on
In Calaveras County.
Sliding through worm holes
Ol’ H. G. Wells comes to mind;
Brakes would be handy.
Invisible man flees scene,
hoping someone will see him.
Or Aldous Huxley,
Seer of socialist folly,
Eyeless In Gaza.
A voice for Albert Hoffman
or at least his Problem Child.
Aldous knew O’Keeffe
typed books at Kiowa Ranch
under Lawrence Tree
LikeLike
And more on the Robert Morse/yb/Walljasper renga:
_____________
It has come to this:
An ad on a vomit bag.
Is nothing sacred?
Sacred cow branding?
Or designer-stigmatas?
Open your hands and hearts,
Brand all with love and kindness,
lest they wander lost.
Besides, emetophobes won’t…
I repeat, won’t read puke bags.
Offer them ideas.
A greasy pork chop and fried octopus,
from dirty ashtray.
These are mental images,
to cure one of mal de mer.
Yet, on second thought
one might not regain sea legs
while eating frog’s legs.
Probing the divine flower,
calms and flattens stomachs.
jumping through mind hoops
e.e. cummings comes to mind;
humor of Mark Twain
Whole lotta jumpin’ go’n on
In Calaveras County.
Sliding through worm holes
Ol’ H. G. Wells comes to mind;
Brakes would be handy.
Invisible man flees scene,
hoping someone will see him.
Or Aldous Huxley,
Seer of socialist folly,
Eyeless In Gaza.
A voice for Albert Hoffman
or at least his Problem Child.
Aldous knew O’Keeffe
typed books at Kiowa Ranch
under Lawrence Tree
Look up! Reach toward the tree top
but don’t forget the journey.
LikeLike
Such happy rascality…a few more lines.
————————————————
It has come to this:
An ad on a vomit bag.
Is nothing sacred?
Sacred cow branding?
Or designer-stigmatas?
Open your hands and hearts,
Brand all with love and kindness,
lest they wander lost.
Besides, emetophobes won’t…
I repeat, won’t read puke bags.
Suggestive power,
A greasy pork chop and fried octopus,
from dirty ashtray.
These are mental images,
to cure one of mal de mer.
Yet, on second thought
one might not regain sea legs
while eating frog’s legs.
Probing the divine flower,
calms and flattens stomachs.
jumping through mind hoops
e.e. cummings comes to mind;
humor of Mark Twain
Whole lotta jumpin’ go’n on
In Calaveras County.
Sliding through worm holes
Ol’ H. G. Wells comes to mind;
Brakes would be handy.
Invisible man flees scene,
hoping someone will see him.
Or Aldous Huxley,
Seer of socialist folly,
Eyeless In Gaza.
A voice for Albert Hoffman
or at least his Problem Child.
Aldous knew O’Keeffe
typed books at Kiowa Ranch
under Lawrence Tree
Look up! Reach toward the tree top
but don’t forget the journey.
A naughty dream date,
Aimee Semple McPherson,
and Sinclair Lewis.
Lewis wrote about her
as Sharon Falconer.
Another Sinclair
was also interested,
He was an Upton.
But it was Pete Seeger who
sang of McPherson’s virtue.
‘Twas Seeger’s refrain,
that “the dents in the mattress
fit Aimee’s caboose.”
‘that bared the dented psyche,
of our “modern” pop culture.
LikeLike
Ach, just found an extra syllable in the last post – corrected.
Such happy rascality…a few more lines.
————————————————
It has come to this:
An ad on a vomit bag.
Is nothing sacred?
Sacred cow branding?
Or designer-stigmatas?
Open your hands and hearts,
Brand all with love and kindness,
lest they wander lost.
Besides, emetophobes won’t…
I repeat, won’t read puke bags.
Suggestive powers,
A greasy pork chop and fried octopus,
from dirty ashtray.
These are mental images,
to cure one of mal de mer.
Yet, on second thought
one might not regain sea legs
while eating frog’s legs.
Speaking of matters of legs,
we’re covering quite a spread.
jumping through mind hoops
e.e. cummings comes to mind;
humor of Mark Twain
Whole lotta jumpin’ go’n on
In Calaveras County.
Sliding through worm holes
Ol’ H. G. Wells comes to mind;
Brakes would be handy.
Invisible man flees scene,
hoping someone will see him.
Or Aldous Huxley,
Seer of socialist folly,
Eyeless In Gaza.
A voice for Albert Hoffman
or at least his Problem Child.
Aldous knew O’Keeffe
typed books at Kiowa Ranch
under Lawrence Tree
Look up! Reach toward the tree top
but don’t forget the journey.
A naughty dream date,
Aimee Semple McPherson,
and Sinclair Lewis.
Lewis wrote about her
‘Elmer Gantry” gal.
Another Sinclair
was also interested,
He was an Upton.
But it was Pete Seeger who
sang of McPherson’s virtue.
‘Twas Seeger’s refrain,
that “the dents in the mattress
fit Aimee’s caboose.”
‘that bared the dented psyche,
of our “modern” pop culture.
LikeLike
Twain is consarned wry,
“Such happy rascality”,
is his catchphrase child.
LikeLike
It has come to this:
An ad on a vomit bag.
Is nothing sacred?
Sacred cow branding?
Or designer-stigmatas?
Open your hands and hearts,
Brand all with love and kindness,
lest they wander lost.
Besides, emetophobes won’t…
I repeat, won’t read puke bags.
Suggestive powers,
A greasy pork chop and fried octopus,
from dirty ashtray.
These are mental images,
to cure one of mal de mer.
Yet, on second thought
one might not regain sea legs
while eating frog’s legs.
And speaking of splayed legs,
we’re covering quite a spread.
jumping through mind hoops
e.e. cummings comes to mind;
humor of Mark Twain
Whole lotta jumpin’ go’n on
In Calaveras County.
Sliding through worm holes
Ol’ H. G. Wells comes to mind;
Brakes would be handy.
Invisible man flees scene,
hoping someone will see him.
Twain is consarned wry,
“Such happy rascality”,
is his catchphrase child.
Left to fend laughs for itself,
in his novel “Roughing It”.
Or Aldous Huxley,
Seer of socialist folly,
Eyeless In Gaza.
A voice for Albert Hoffman
or at least his Problem Child.
Aldous knew O’Keeffe
typed books at Kiowa Ranch
under Lawrence Tree
Look up! Reach toward the tree top
but don’t forget the journey.
A naughty dream date,
Aimee Semple McPherson,
and Sinclair Lewis.
She was Sharon Falconer,
penned in “Elmer Gantry”.
Another Sinclair
was also interested,
He was an Upton.
Then there was Pete Seeger whose
ballad belied her scandal.
‘Twas Seeger’s refrain,
that “the dents in the mattress
fit Aimee’s caboose.”
and bared the dented psyche,
of our “modern” pop culture.
LikeLike
[…] — 15 min (by QuoinMonkey), Berth Of The Nightowl haiku, Memorial — Day & Night, haiku 2 (one-a-day), 40 Days, 8 Flags, & 1 Mennonite […]
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Continuing our group renga:
————————————————
One seagull feather
hairy sculptures of seagrass
piled up on the dunes;
lady bugs and beetles land,
shelter from the cold, coarse sand
found in the sand
someone lost a loved one–
this wedding band,
years of what could and could not
happen in a span of life
lifes changing seasons
happy, sad, up, down, laugh, cry-
stay or go away;
underneath the roiling waves
calm moonlight draws me back in
breathing in bath salts,
I think of the tears I tasted
when you said goodbye
bitter wind off oceans spray
turns my heart cold like that day
bare truth, baldfaced lie,
why does nothing satisfy?
how fickle my heart
swinging between trees
like a hammock
creaking bending trees
crying out pains agony-
red eyes of griefs lava tears
into the wind I let it go
a feather across the sand
between power lines
the crows can’t decide whether
to leave or stay
feet hold fast to whir of wire
head says run to shifting ground
from the earth
a crack
of fresh earthworms
slither through the pouring rain
clinging to last bits of life
the soccer field–
a marshland for herons
after the rain
reminds me of Nebraska
slow drum of Janis Ian
naked oak and birch
still in the November wind
haiku for the sky
only my breath caught
in the branches
birdsong–
my dog echoes the warbler
with her sore throat;
the trill can be heard for miles,
is the bark worse than the bite?
from the birch tree
I peel away the bark
and write this haiku
I find the sap sweet, congealed
While my tears remain bitter
The backyard rubble
Holds wisps of waylaid dreams It’s
Slim pickings for birds;
they are dreamcatchers
tying each nightmare to bare branches.
crows light on the wing
Raven holds November court
while hummers fly South
dipping in the sunlight
they pull away the clouds
Sun sextile Saturn
Thanksgiving relationships
may take a quick turn
family feuds holding still –
peace returns, if just one day
on the corner, the Raven
returning for a quick meal
dissolves into night
The autumn also takes wing,
A snowflake heralds winter.
trees crawl toward the sky
ochre moonlight silhouettes
dreaming of Solstice
The nights are long and heavy
but soon the light will lift us.
trenches around fire
reflected deep in your eyes
labyrinthine pools…
I think of the night we held
each other from our own shadows
Your softest caress,
each tremble and kiss of tress,
a single raindrop,
creating dry dust devils
littered with blurred distinctions.
on the windshield
cracks become softer
in the fog
LikeLike
[…] -Related to post haiku 2 (one-a-day) […]
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Lotus, I’ve fallen behind this week on the renga! Continuing our group renga:
————————————————
One seagull feather
hairy sculptures of seagrass
piled up on the dunes;
lady bugs and beetles land,
shelter from the cold, coarse sand
found in the sand
someone lost a loved one–
this wedding band,
years of what could and could not
happen in a span of life
lifes changing seasons
happy, sad, up, down, laugh, cry-
stay or go away;
underneath the roiling waves
calm moonlight draws me back in
breathing in bath salts,
I think of the tears I tasted
when you said goodbye
bitter wind off oceans spray
turns my heart cold like that day
bare truth, baldfaced lie,
why does nothing satisfy?
how fickle my heart
swinging between trees
like a hammock
creaking bending trees
crying out pains agony-
red eyes of griefs lava tears
into the wind I let it go
a feather across the sand
between power lines
the crows can’t decide whether
to leave or stay
feet hold fast to whir of wire
head says run to shifting ground
from the earth
a crack
of fresh earthworms
slither through the pouring rain
clinging to last bits of life
the soccer field–
a marshland for herons
after the rain
reminds me of Nebraska
slow drum of Janis Ian
naked oak and birch
still in the November wind
haiku for the sky
only my breath caught
in the branches
birdsong–
my dog echoes the warbler
with her sore throat;
the trill can be heard for miles,
is the bark worse than the bite?
from the birch tree
I peel away the bark
and write this haiku
I find the sap sweet, congealed
While my tears remain bitter
The backyard rubble
Holds wisps of waylaid dreams It’s
Slim pickings for birds;
they are dreamcatchers
tying each nightmare to bare branches.
crows light on the wing
Raven holds November court
while hummers fly South
dipping in the sunlight
they pull away the clouds
Sun sextile Saturn
Thanksgiving relationships
may take a quick turn
family feuds holding still –
peace returns, if just one day
on the corner, the Raven
returning for a quick meal
dissolves into night
The autumn also takes wing,
A snowflake heralds winter.
trees crawl toward the sky
ochre moonlight silhouettes
dreaming of Solstice
The nights are long and heavy
but soon the light will lift us.
trenches around fire
reflected deep in your eyes
labyrinthine pools…
I think of the night we held
each other from our own shadows
Your softest caress,
each tremble and kiss of tress,
a single raindrop,
creating dry dust devils
littered with blurred distinctions.
on the windshield
cracks become softer
in the fog —
-1 freezes in place,
fingers draw cold words–your name.
LikeLike
Walljasper, this one’s turned quite literary. Adding on:
_________
It has come to this:
An ad on a vomit bag.
Is nothing sacred?
Sacred cow branding?
Or designer-stigmatas?
Open your hands and hearts,
Brand all with love and kindness,
lest they wander lost.
Besides, emetophobes won’t…
I repeat, won’t read puke bags.
Suggestive powers,
A greasy pork chop and fried octopus,
from dirty ashtray.
These are mental images,
to cure one of mal de mer.
Yet, on second thought
one might not regain sea legs
while eating frog’s legs.
And speaking of splayed legs,
we’re covering quite a spread.
jumping through mind hoops
e.e. cummings comes to mind;
humor of Mark Twain
Whole lotta jumpin’ go’n on
In Calaveras County.
Sliding through worm holes
Ol’ H. G. Wells comes to mind;
Brakes would be handy.
Invisible man flees scene,
hoping someone will see him.
Twain is consarned wry,
“Such happy rascality”,
is his catchphrase child.
Left to fend laughs for itself,
in his novel “Roughing It”.
Or Aldous Huxley,
Seer of socialist folly,
Eyeless In Gaza.
A voice for Albert Hoffman
or at least his Problem Child.
Aldous knew O’Keeffe
typed books at Kiowa Ranch
under Lawrence Tree
Look up! Reach toward the tree top
but don’t forget the journey.
A naughty dream date,
Aimee Semple McPherson,
and Sinclair Lewis.
She was Sharon Falconer,
penned in “Elmer Gantry”.
Another Sinclair
was also interested,
He was an Upton.
Then there was Pete Seeger whose
ballad belied her scandal.
‘Twas Seeger’s refrain,
that “the dents in the mattress
fit Aimee’s caboose.”
and bared the dented psyche,
of our “modern” pop culture.
they’re turning in graves
What’s with Dylan sings Christmas?
he does what he wants
LikeLike
@QM: Lovely completion, I must say. 8)
——————————————–
One seagull feather
hairy sculptures of seagrass
piled up on the dunes;
lady bugs and beetles land,
shelter from the cold, coarse sand
found in the sand
someone lost a loved one–
this wedding band,
years of what could and could not
happen in a span of life
lifes changing seasons
happy, sad, up, down, laugh, cry-
stay or go away;
underneath the roiling waves
calm moonlight draws me back in
breathing in bath salts,
I think of the tears I tasted
when you said goodbye
bitter wind off oceans spray
turns my heart cold like that day
bare truth, baldfaced lie,
why does nothing satisfy?
how fickle my heart
swinging between trees
like a hammock
creaking bending trees
crying out pains agony-
red eyes of griefs lava tears
into the wind I let it go
a feather across the sand
between power lines
the crows can’t decide whether
to leave or stay
feet hold fast to whir of wire
head says run to shifting ground
from the earth
a crack
of fresh earthworms
slither through the pouring rain
clinging to last bits of life
the soccer field–
a marshland for herons
after the rain
reminds me of Nebraska
slow drum of Janis Ian
naked oak and birch
still in the November wind
haiku for the sky
only my breath caught
in the branches
birdsong–
my dog echoes the warbler
with her sore throat;
the trill can be heard for miles,
is the bark worse than the bite?
from the birch tree
I peel away the bark
and write this haiku
I find the sap sweet, congealed
While my tears remain bitter
The backyard rubble
Holds wisps of waylaid dreams It’s
Slim pickings for birds;
they are dreamcatchers
tying each nightmare to bare branches.
crows light on the wing
Raven holds November court
while hummers fly South
dipping in the sunlight
they pull away the clouds
Sun sextile Saturn
Thanksgiving relationships
may take a quick turn
family feuds holding still –
peace returns, if just one day
on the corner, the Raven
returning for a quick meal
dissolves into night
The autumn also takes wing,
A snowflake heralds winter.
trees crawl toward the sky
ochre moonlight silhouettes
dreaming of Solstice
The nights are long and heavy
but soon the light will lift us.
trenches around fire
reflected deep in your eyes
labyrinthine pools…
I think of the night we held
each other from our own shadows
Your softest caress,
each tremble and kiss of tress,
a single raindrop,
creating dry dust devils
littered with blurred distinctions.
on the windshield
cracks become softer
in the fog —
-1 freezes in place,
fingers draw cold words–your name.
linked crescents–
I fitted your faded last name
around my lip print
LikeLike
Continuing the diddy/Walljasper renga:
________
for every life
there is a reason to live
and there is an end
And in this divine resort,
God grant us late, quick checkout.
soulful salvation
a rest of quiet peace; not
exasperation.
Still, I wonder what happens
to our dreams after we die?
LikeLike
Lotus, thank you! I’m really enjoying the three renga we’ve got going near the end of the year here. I enjoy writing with others in community. The poems go directions I would never otherwise think of. Hope you are well.
——————————————–
One seagull feather
hairy sculptures of seagrass
piled up on the dunes;
lady bugs and beetles land,
shelter from the cold, coarse sand
found in the sand
someone lost a loved one–
this wedding band,
years of what could and could not
happen in a span of life
lifes changing seasons
happy, sad, up, down, laugh, cry-
stay or go away;
underneath the roiling waves
calm moonlight draws me back in
breathing in bath salts,
I think of the tears I tasted
when you said goodbye
bitter wind off oceans spray
turns my heart cold like that day
bare truth, baldfaced lie,
why does nothing satisfy?
how fickle my heart
swinging between trees
like a hammock
creaking bending trees
crying out pains agony-
red eyes of griefs lava tears
into the wind I let it go
a feather across the sand
between power lines
the crows can’t decide whether
to leave or stay
feet hold fast to whir of wire
head says run to shifting ground
from the earth
a crack
of fresh earthworms
slither through the pouring rain
clinging to last bits of life
the soccer field–
a marshland for herons
after the rain
reminds me of Nebraska
slow drum of Janis Ian
naked oak and birch
still in the November wind
haiku for the sky
only my breath caught
in the branches
birdsong–
my dog echoes the warbler
with her sore throat;
the trill can be heard for miles,
is the bark worse than the bite?
from the birch tree
I peel away the bark
and write this haiku
I find the sap sweet, congealed
While my tears remain bitter
The backyard rubble
Holds wisps of waylaid dreams It’s
Slim pickings for birds;
they are dreamcatchers
tying each nightmare to bare branches.
crows light on the wing
Raven holds November court
while hummers fly South
dipping in the sunlight
they pull away the clouds
Sun sextile Saturn
Thanksgiving relationships
may take a quick turn
family feuds holding still –
peace returns, if just one day
on the corner, the Raven
returning for a quick meal
dissolves into night
The autumn also takes wing,
A snowflake heralds winter.
trees crawl toward the sky
ochre moonlight silhouettes
dreaming of Solstice
The nights are long and heavy
but soon the light will lift us.
trenches around fire
reflected deep in your eyes
labyrinthine pools…
I think of the night we held
each other from our own shadows
Your softest caress,
each tremble and kiss of tress,
a single raindrop,
creating dry dust devils
littered with blurred distinctions.
on the windshield
cracks become softer
in the fog —
-1 freezes in place,
fingers draw cold words–your name.
linked crescents–
I fitted your faded last name
around my lip print —
morning sun, and it’s still there,
remnants of what used to be.
LikeLike
Walljasper, this one’s turned quite literary. Adding on:
_________
It has come to this:
An ad on a vomit bag.
Is nothing sacred?
Sacred cow branding?
Or designer-stigmatas?
Open your hands and hearts,
Brand all with love and kindness,
lest they wander lost.
Besides, emetophobes won’t…
I repeat, won’t read puke bags.
Suggestive powers,
A greasy pork chop and fried octopus,
from dirty ashtray.
These are mental images,
to cure one of mal de mer.
Yet, on second thought
one might not regain sea legs
while eating frog’s legs.
And speaking of splayed legs,
we’re covering quite a spread.
jumping through mind hoops
e.e. cummings comes to mind;
humor of Mark Twain
Whole lotta jumpin’ go’n on
In Calaveras County.
Sliding through worm holes
Ol’ H. G. Wells comes to mind;
Brakes would be handy.
Invisible man flees scene,
hoping someone will see him.
Twain is consarned wry,
“Such happy rascality”,
is his catchphrase child.
Left to fend laughs for itself,
in his novel “Roughing It”.
Or Aldous Huxley,
Seer of socialist folly,
Eyeless In Gaza.
A voice for Albert Hoffman
or at least his Problem Child.
Aldous knew O’Keeffe
typed books at Kiowa Ranch
under Lawrence Tree
Look up! Reach toward the tree top
but don’t forget the journey.
A naughty dream date,
Aimee Semple McPherson,
and Sinclair Lewis.
She was Sharon Falconer,
penned in “Elmer Gantry”.
Another Sinclair
was also interested,
He was an Upton.
Then there was Pete Seeger whose
ballad belied her scandal.
‘Twas Seeger’s refrain,
that “the dents in the mattress
fit Aimee’s caboose.”
and bared the dented psyche,
of our “modern” pop culture.
they’re turning in graves
What’s with Dylan sings Christmas?
he does what he wants.
And much like a rolling stone,
‘becomes a complete unknown.
LikeLike
Continuing the renga with diddy & QuoinMonkey
for every life
there is a reason to live
and there is an end
And in this divine resort,
God grant us late, quick checkout.
soulful salvation
a rest of quiet peace; not
exasperation.
Still, I wonder what happens
to our dreams after we die?
Perhaps they live on,
in the hearts and minds we touch,
then eternity.
LikeLike
@QM and everyone: I am doing well. I’m so glad that the academic semester is over, and now I have more time to enjoy and do things I WANT to do! 8) Then, there is Christmas! I can’t wait.
Yes, I too am enjoying this renga as it is coming to the end of the year. That is the beauty of it; you never know what to expect!
—————————————-
One seagull feather
hairy sculptures of seagrass
piled up on the dunes;
lady bugs and beetles land,
shelter from the cold, coarse sand
found in the sand
someone lost a loved one–
this wedding band,
years of what could and could not
happen in a span of life
lifes changing seasons
happy, sad, up, down, laugh, cry-
stay or go away;
underneath the roiling waves
calm moonlight draws me back in
breathing in bath salts,
I think of the tears I tasted
when you said goodbye
bitter wind off oceans spray
turns my heart cold like that day
bare truth, baldfaced lie,
why does nothing satisfy?
how fickle my heart
swinging between trees
like a hammock
creaking bending trees
crying out pains agony-
red eyes of griefs lava tears
into the wind I let it go
a feather across the sand
between power lines
the crows can’t decide whether
to leave or stay
feet hold fast to whir of wire
head says run to shifting ground
from the earth
a crack
of fresh earthworms
slither through the pouring rain
clinging to last bits of life
the soccer field–
a marshland for herons
after the rain
reminds me of Nebraska
slow drum of Janis Ian
naked oak and birch
still in the November wind
haiku for the sky
only my breath caught
in the branches
birdsong–
my dog echoes the warbler
with her sore throat;
the trill can be heard for miles,
is the bark worse than the bite?
from the birch tree
I peel away the bark
and write this haiku
I find the sap sweet, congealed
While my tears remain bitter
The backyard rubble
Holds wisps of waylaid dreams It’s
Slim pickings for birds;
they are dreamcatchers
tying each nightmare to bare branches.
crows light on the wing
Raven holds November court
while hummers fly South
dipping in the sunlight
they pull away the clouds
Sun sextile Saturn
Thanksgiving relationships
may take a quick turn
family feuds holding still –
peace returns, if just one day
on the corner, the Raven
returning for a quick meal
dissolves into night
The autumn also takes wing,
A snowflake heralds winter.
trees crawl toward the sky
ochre moonlight silhouettes
dreaming of Solstice
The nights are long and heavy
but soon the light will lift us.
trenches around fire
reflected deep in your eyes
labyrinthine pools…
I think of the night we held
each other from our own shadows
Your softest caress,
each tremble and kiss of tress,
a single raindrop,
creating dry dust devils
littered with blurred distinctions.
on the windshield
cracks become softer
in the fog —
-1 freezes in place,
fingers draw cold words–your name.
linked crescents–
I fitted your faded last name
around my lip print –
morning sun, and it’s still there,
remnants of what used to be.
the future so uncertain
as I drive through
the Monday car wash
LikeLike
lotus, I like the mystery of it, too. Bet you are so happy for the seasonal break from school. Rest well! (BTW, it’s true about the parrot at our car wash.)
_____________
One seagull feather
hairy sculptures of seagrass
piled up on the dunes;
lady bugs and beetles land,
shelter from the cold, coarse sand
found in the sand
someone lost a loved one–
this wedding band,
years of what could and could not
happen in a span of life
lifes changing seasons
happy, sad, up, down, laugh, cry-
stay or go away;
underneath the roiling waves
calm moonlight draws me back in
breathing in bath salts,
I think of the tears I tasted
when you said goodbye
bitter wind off oceans spray
turns my heart cold like that day
bare truth, baldfaced lie,
why does nothing satisfy?
how fickle my heart
swinging between trees
like a hammock
creaking bending trees
crying out pains agony-
red eyes of griefs lava tears
into the wind I let it go
a feather across the sand
between power lines
the crows can’t decide whether
to leave or stay
feet hold fast to whir of wire
head says run to shifting ground
from the earth
a crack
of fresh earthworms
slither through the pouring rain
clinging to last bits of life
the soccer field–
a marshland for herons
after the rain
reminds me of Nebraska
slow drum of Janis Ian
naked oak and birch
still in the November wind
haiku for the sky
only my breath caught
in the branches
birdsong–
my dog echoes the warbler
with her sore throat;
the trill can be heard for miles,
is the bark worse than the bite?
from the birch tree
I peel away the bark
and write this haiku
I find the sap sweet, congealed
While my tears remain bitter
The backyard rubble
Holds wisps of waylaid dreams It’s
Slim pickings for birds;
they are dreamcatchers
tying each nightmare to bare branches.
crows light on the wing
Raven holds November court
while hummers fly South
dipping in the sunlight
they pull away the clouds
Sun sextile Saturn
Thanksgiving relationships
may take a quick turn
family feuds holding still –
peace returns, if just one day
on the corner, the Raven
returning for a quick meal
dissolves into night
The autumn also takes wing,
A snowflake heralds winter.
trees crawl toward the sky
ochre moonlight silhouettes
dreaming of Solstice
The nights are long and heavy
but soon the light will lift us.
trenches around fire
reflected deep in your eyes
labyrinthine pools…
I think of the night we held
each other from our own shadows
Your softest caress,
each tremble and kiss of tress,
a single raindrop,
creating dry dust devils
littered with blurred distinctions.
on the windshield
cracks become softer
in the fog —
-1 freezes in place,
fingers draw cold words–your name.
linked crescents–
I fitted your faded last name
around my lip print –
morning sun, and it’s still there,
remnants of what used to be.
the future so uncertain
as I drive through
the Monday car wash —
when I pay, their parrot talks,
Cackles “I love you” out loud.
LikeLike
Continuing the renga with diddy & Walljasper:
_____________
for every life
there is a reason to live
and there is an end
And in this divine resort,
God grant us late, quick checkout.
soulful salvation
a rest of quiet peace; not
exasperation.
Still, I wonder what happens
to our dreams after we die?
Perhaps they live on,
in the hearts and minds we touch,
then eternity.
Or disappear like the wind,
ideas whose time never came.
LikeLike
Rolling on with Walljasper, yb, Robert Morse, and all:
_______
It has come to this:
An ad on a vomit bag.
Is nothing sacred?
Sacred cow branding?
Or designer-stigmatas?
Open your hands and hearts,
Brand all with love and kindness,
lest they wander lost.
Besides, emetophobes won’t…
I repeat, won’t read puke bags.
Suggestive powers,
A greasy pork chop and fried octopus,
from dirty ashtray.
These are mental images,
to cure one of mal de mer.
Yet, on second thought
one might not regain sea legs
while eating frog’s legs.
And speaking of splayed legs,
we’re covering quite a spread.
jumping through mind hoops
e.e. cummings comes to mind;
humor of Mark Twain
Whole lotta jumpin’ go’n on
In Calaveras County.
Sliding through worm holes
Ol’ H. G. Wells comes to mind;
Brakes would be handy.
Invisible man flees scene,
hoping someone will see him.
Twain is consarned wry,
“Such happy rascality”,
is his catchphrase child.
Left to fend laughs for itself,
in his novel “Roughing It”.
Or Aldous Huxley,
Seer of socialist folly,
Eyeless In Gaza.
A voice for Albert Hoffman
or at least his Problem Child.
Aldous knew O’Keeffe
typed books at Kiowa Ranch
under Lawrence Tree
Look up! Reach toward the tree top
but don’t forget the journey.
A naughty dream date,
Aimee Semple McPherson,
and Sinclair Lewis.
She was Sharon Falconer,
penned in “Elmer Gantry”.
Another Sinclair
was also interested,
He was an Upton.
Then there was Pete Seeger whose
ballad belied her scandal.
‘Twas Seeger’s refrain,
that “the dents in the mattress
fit Aimee’s caboose.”
and bared the dented psyche,
of our “modern” pop culture.
they’re turning in graves
What’s with Dylan sings Christmas?
he does what he wants.
And much like a rolling stone,
‘becomes a complete unknown.
disjointed puzzle
Springsteen’s Santa comes to town
all dressed in bright red
LikeLike
It has come to this:
An ad on a vomit bag.
Is nothing sacred?
Sacred cow branding?
Or designer-stigmatas?
Open your hands and hearts,
Brand all with love and kindness,
lest they wander lost.
Besides, emetophobes won’t…
I repeat, won’t read puke bags.
Suggestive powers,
A greasy pork chop and fried octopus,
from dirty ashtray.
These are mental images,
to cure one of mal de mer.
Yet, on second thought
one might not regain sea legs
while eating frog’s legs.
And speaking of splayed legs,
we’re covering quite a spread.
jumping through mind hoops
e.e. cummings comes to mind;
humor of Mark Twain
Whole lotta jumpin’ go’n on
In Calaveras County.
Sliding through worm holes
Ol’ H. G. Wells comes to mind;
Brakes would be handy.
Invisible man flees scene,
hoping someone will see him.
Twain is consarned wry,
“Such happy rascality”,
is his catchphrase child.
Left to fend laughs for itself,
in his novel “Roughing It”.
Or Aldous Huxley,
Seer of socialist folly,
Eyeless In Gaza.
A voice for Albert Hoffman
or at least his Problem Child.
Aldous knew O’Keeffe
typed books at Kiowa Ranch
under Lawrence Tree
Look up! Reach toward the tree top
but don’t forget the journey.
A naughty dream date,
Aimee Semple McPherson,
and Sinclair Lewis.
She was Sharon Falconer,
penned in “Elmer Gantry”.
Another Sinclair
was also interested,
He was an Upton.
Then there was Pete Seeger whose
ballad belied her scandal.
‘Twas Seeger’s refrain,
that “the dents in the mattress
fit Aimee’s caboose.”
and bared the dented psyche,
of our “modern” pop culture.
they’re turning in graves
What’s with Dylan sings Christmas?
he does what he wants.
And much like a rolling stone,
‘becomes a complete unknown.
disjointed puzzle
Springsteen’s Santa comes to town
all dressed in bright red
Hark! The Big Man’s ho-ho-ho’s
Crack The Boss up near the close.
LikeLike
Continuing the renga with diddy & QuoinMonkey:
_____________
for every life
there is a reason to live
and there is an end
And in this divine resort,
God grant us late, quick checkout.
soulful salvation
a rest of quiet peace; not
exasperation.
Still, I wonder what happens
to our dreams after we die?
Perhaps they live on,
in the hearts and minds we touch,
then eternity.
Or disappear like the wind,
ideas whose time never came.
All is illusion.
so say the masters of Zen,
and the winds of time.
LikeLike
Ach, just posted and now have to make a quick last-line revision.
Continuing the renga with diddy & QuoinMonkey:
_____________
for every life
there is a reason to live
and there is an end
And in this divine resort,
God grant us late, quick checkout.
soulful salvation
a rest of quiet peace; not
exasperation.
Still, I wonder what happens
to our dreams after we die?
Perhaps they live on,
in the hearts and minds we touch,
then eternity.
Or disappear like the wind,
ideas whose time never came.
All is illusion.
so say the masters of Zen,
and whispers the wind.
LikeLike
Continuing the renga with diddy & QuoinMonkey:
_____________
for every life
there is a reason to live
and there is an end
And in this divine resort,
God grant us late, quick checkout.
soulful salvation
a rest of quiet peace; not
exasperation.
Still, I wonder what happens
to our dreams after we die?
Perhaps they live on,
in the hearts and minds we touch,
then eternity.
Or disappear like the wind,
ideas whose time never came.
All is illusion.
so say the masters of Zen,
and whispers the wind.
Monkey Mind clings to what’s “real”
while life passes by in zeal.
LikeLike
Continuing the renga with diddy & QuoinMonkey:
_____________
for every life
there is a reason to live
and there is an end
And in this divine resort,
God grant us late, quick checkout.
soulful salvation
a rest of quiet peace; not
exasperation.
Still, I wonder what happens
to our dreams after we die?
Perhaps they live on,
in the hearts and minds we touch,
then eternity.
Or disappear like the wind,
ideas whose time never came.
All is illusion.
so say the masters of Zen,
and whispers the wind.
Monkey Mind clings to what’s “real”
while life passes by in zeal.
Our earthly moment,
gestation for mind and soul,
to transcend mere time.
LikeLike
Hearing snores of spouse,
stirs murderous rage with joy
that they are alive.
LikeLike
Christmas Mocha?
Out comes holiday brandy,
Oh joy to the world.
LikeLike
Walljasper, your place sounds fun today. In the Holiday Spirit! We just discovered that our cat Mr. Stripeypants loves homemade shortbread cookies. 8)
____
packages arrive
Mr. Pants loves fresh shortbread
sent from his Nana
LikeLike
So cute. 😉
What a great pen name
Mister Shortbread Stripeypants,
perfect for renga writer.
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Walljasper, love your Stripeypants haiku. Just read it to Liz and she loved it, too. Mr. Pants was just eating one of our cookbooks. More Stripeypants haiku:
____________
Mr. Stripeypants
bites holes out of Chapter 10
he loves challah bread!
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[…] -related to posts: Virgin Mary Sightings, Winter Solstice — Making Light Of The Dark, “K” Is For Kramarczuk’s, Runes, Oracles, & Alphabets, voyeur haiku, haiku 2 (one-a-day) […]
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Mr. Stripeypants
bites holes out of Chapter 10
he loves challah bread!
Kiddush kittycat chutzpah,
Kenahora, Stripeypants!
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Galaxy Dog
consciousness eternally
makes use of
available resources
to value itself
imagining light refracted
jagged mountains
gentle streams
blue skies
and bright yellow
baby chickens
*
Short Zen Poems – Mindfulness, Meditation – Unique collection of over 200 zen poems. Original, insightful, enlightening, full of paradox, wisdom and humor. Subjects include mindfulness, meditation, waking up, realization, etc.
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Walljasper, another great Stripeypants haiku/tanka! I expect to be writing a few more over the Holidays. He’s quite a character. 8)
This morning I’m thinking about work, making money, time. And the blessed 4 days off I get after today to do whatever I want creatively.
___________
devouring time
underneath the work ethic
wolf in sheep’s clothing
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Continuing QuoinMonkey’s haiku to a tanka.
devouring time
underneath the work ethic
wolf in sheep’s clothing.
Toss a coin into a pond,
the ripples subside quickly.
That which glimmers so,
quietly fades from sight and
we race the sunset.
___________
We love our little critters too – Lately, ‘am owned and pawned by an 8.5 lb. tyrant, also know as a Yorkshire Terrier.
‘Hope you, Liz and Mr. Stripeypants have a lovely holiday.
Thanks always for the warm welcome and hospitality.
Walljasper
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the old cottage felt
so sad; fading snow, seen from
an empty window.
seasons’ greetings to everyone I know, especially QM and yb.
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Ach, revision to recent tanka addition to QuoinMonkey’s haiku.
devouring time
underneath the work ethic
wolf in sheep’s clothing.
Toss a coin into a pond,
the ripples subside quickly.
That which glimmers bright
quietly fades from our sight,
we race the sunset.
___________
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[…] to posts: haiku 2 (one-a-day), Poem For The Trees (Keepers Of The Light), A Few Of My Favorite Things, On Eating December […]
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Walljasper, it’s been a pleasure to meet you via red Ravine. I feel happy when others stop by this space and leave their poetry. Much gratitude. Sounds wonderful to have a Yorkshire Terrier. Sometimes we talk about getting a dog. But we’d need so much more space than this little cottage!
stranger, so happy to hear from you. Hope all is well! Thank you for stopping by!
Continuing renga with Walljasper:
___________
devouring time
underneath the work ethic
wolf in sheep’s clothing.
Toss a coin into a pond,
the ripples subside quickly.
That which glimmers bright
quietly fades from our sight,
we race the sunset.
Full throttle, going nowhere —
What remains? An empty shell.
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It has come to this:
An ad on a vomit bag.
Is nothing sacred?
Sacred cow branding?
Or designer-stigmatas?
Open your hands and hearts,
Brand all with love and kindness,
lest they wander lost.
Besides, emetophobes won’t…
I repeat, won’t read puke bags.
Suggestive powers,
A greasy pork chop and fried octopus,
from dirty ashtray.
These are mental images,
to cure one of mal de mer.
Yet, on second thought
one might not regain sea legs
while eating frog’s legs.
And speaking of splayed legs,
we’re covering quite a spread.
jumping through mind hoops
e.e. cummings comes to mind;
humor of Mark Twain
Whole lotta jumpin’ go’n on
In Calaveras County.
Sliding through worm holes
Ol’ H. G. Wells comes to mind;
Brakes would be handy.
Invisible man flees scene,
hoping someone will see him.
Twain is consarned wry,
“Such happy rascality”,
is his catchphrase child.
Left to fend laughs for itself,
in his novel “Roughing It”.
Or Aldous Huxley,
Seer of socialist folly,
Eyeless In Gaza.
A voice for Albert Hoffman
or at least his Problem Child.
Aldous knew O’Keeffe
typed books at Kiowa Ranch
under Lawrence Tree
Look up! Reach toward the tree top
but don’t forget the journey.
A naughty dream date,
Aimee Semple McPherson,
and Sinclair Lewis.
She was Sharon Falconer,
penned in “Elmer Gantry”.
Another Sinclair
was also interested,
He was an Upton.
Then there was Pete Seeger whose
ballad belied her scandal.
‘Twas Seeger’s refrain,
that “the dents in the mattress
fit Aimee’s caboose.”
and bared the dented psyche,
of our “modern” pop culture.
they’re turning in graves
What’s with Dylan sings Christmas?
he does what he wants.
And much like a rolling stone,
‘becomes a complete unknown.
disjointed puzzle
Springsteen’s Santa comes to town
all dressed in bright red
Hark! The Big Man’s ho-ho-ho’s
Crack The Boss up near the close.
Lady Greensleeves sings
‘Twas the night before Christmas —
hot broadside ballad
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white on white on white
moon and cloud and snow reflect
in a darkened space
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butter sugar love
a little flour power
Pants must have more
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Oops! Just realized I’m one syllable short in my last line above. Let’s makd\e that
butter sugar love
a little flour power
Pants must have shortbread
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oliverowl, you’re back! And with a Mr. Stripeypants haiku. I noticed your moon haiku, too. Yesterday the moon was glowing in a crystal blue winter sky. I think it’s near full at the New Year. It’s the time of year when light plays a huge role in health and making it through the dark winters here. Every day gets a little brighter. Wrote this one leaving work last night in the dark and walking the glassy parking lot to my car.
_____________
frozen winter sky
slow walking the parking lot
moonlight on black ice
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Happy New Year, red Raviners! 🙂 8) Here’s to another new year on this haiku/tanka/senryu, etc. journey!
———————————————-
New Year’s Eve
all the skyscrapers eclipsed
by the fog
New Year’s Eve
the explosions in your eyes
before our kiss
sharing my secrets
to the Virgin Mother
my future less dark
at the shrine
sharing resolutions with the Buddha
a homeless man
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Happy New Year, lotus! And to all of our other haiku/tanka/renga writers. It’s sure been a fun year on this post. I’m chewing on the haiku post for 2010. I’m looking forward to the New Year. Hope it’s a little less stressful than last. Happy New Year!
____________
New Year’s Eve Blue Moon
cookin’ up the black-eyed peas
always takes me back
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Continuing QuoinMonkey’s New Year dish!
———————–
New Year’s Eve Blue Moon
cookin’ up the black-eyed peas
always takes me back
Lawd, thas’ whole lottah peppah,
this etouffee gonna hurt.
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Walljasper, we’ll be eating more black-eyed peas today with a little cornbread. Yummm. More food traditions renga:
________________________________
New Year’s Eve Blue Moon
cookin’ up the black-eyed peas
always takes me back
Lawd, thas’ whole lottah peppah,
this etouffee gonna hurt.
need that New Year’s luck —
in the North, it’s pork loin
sauerkraut in tow
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Now I am hungry too. 😉
New Year’s Eve Blue Moon
cookin’ up the black-eyed peas
always takes me back
Lawd, thas’ whole lottah peppah,
this etouffee gonna hurt.
need that New Year’s luck –
in the North, it’s pork loin
sauerkraut in tow.
Comfort food takes time and love,
so keep stirring and we’ll drink.
Oh tiny bubbles,
like the kiss of a hot fist,
you knock me out cold.
Milk goes with chocolate cake,
champagne, with everything.
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[…] Script: I wanted to combine several of my yearly practices in this post on looking back. Above is a tanka I wrote on the trip to Georgia this year, the Reflection part of my Writing Practice on WRITING […]
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New Year’s Eve Blue Moon
cookin’ up the black-eyed peas
always takes me back
Lawd, thas’ whole lottah peppah,
this etouffee gonna hurt.
need that New Year’s luck –
in the North, it’s pork loin
sauerkraut in tow.
Comfort food takes time and love,
so keep stirring and we’ll drink.
Oh tiny bubbles,
like the kiss of a hot fist,
you knock me out cold.
Milk goes with chocolate cake,
champagne, with everything.
Milk lovers unite!
milk fluffs the mashed potatoes
wraps the egg in nog
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New Year’s Eve Blue Moon
cookin’ up the black-eyed peas
always takes me back
Lawd, thas’ whole lottah peppah,
this etouffee gonna hurt.
need that New Year’s luck –
in the North, it’s pork loin
sauerkraut in tow.
Comfort food takes time and love,
so keep stirring and we’ll drink.
Oh tiny bubbles,
like the kiss of a hot fist,
you knock me out cold.
Milk goes with chocolate cake,
champagne, with everything.
Milk lovers unite!
milk fluffs the mashed potatoes
wraps the egg in nog.
Howabout slow-cooked grits?
A hominy homily.
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Walljasper, fun. Adding the next few lines — GRITS are Girls Raised In The South.
_________________________
New Year’s Eve Blue Moon
cookin’ up the black-eyed peas
always takes me back
Lawd, thas’ whole lottah peppah,
this etouffee gonna hurt.
need that New Year’s luck –
in the North, it’s pork loin
sauerkraut in tow.
Comfort food takes time and love,
so keep stirring and we’ll drink.
Oh tiny bubbles,
like the kiss of a hot fist,
you knock me out cold.
Milk goes with chocolate cake,
champagne, with everything.
Milk lovers unite!
milk fluffs the mashed potatoes
wraps the egg in nog.
Howabout slow-cooked grits?
A hominy homily.
All GRITS learn to love
hushpuppies fried in hot grease
not a dog in sight
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QuoinMonkey, fun + making me hongry.
_________________________
New Year’s Eve Blue Moon
cookin’ up the black-eyed peas
always takes me back
Lawd, thas’ whole lottah peppah,
this etouffee gonna hurt.
need that New Year’s luck –
in the North, it’s pork loin
sauerkraut in tow.
Comfort food takes time and love,
so keep stirring and we’ll drink.
Oh tiny bubbles,
like the kiss of a hot fist,
you knock me out cold.
Milk goes with chocolate cake,
champagne, with everything.
Milk lovers unite!
milk fluffs the mashed potatoes
wraps the egg in nog.
Howabout slow-cooked grits?
A hominy homily.
All GRITS learn to love
hushpuppies fried in hot grease
not a dog in sight
“What are grits?” asks a Yankee.
Honey, it’s like hot ice cream.
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Walljasper, you crack me up. I smile when I read your continuing renga. I’m so happy you’ve joined us on this yearly haiku post. A real treat.
_________________________
New Year’s Eve Blue Moon
cookin’ up the black-eyed peas
always takes me back
Lawd, thas’ whole lottah peppah,
this etouffee gonna hurt.
need that New Year’s luck –
in the North, it’s pork loin
sauerkraut in tow.
Comfort food takes time and love,
so keep stirring and we’ll drink.
Oh tiny bubbles,
like the kiss of a hot fist,
you knock me out cold.
Milk goes with chocolate cake,
champagne, with everything.
Milk lovers unite!
milk fluffs the mashed potatoes
wraps the egg in nog.
Howabout slow-cooked grits?
A hominy homily.
All GRITS learn to love
hushpuppies fried in hot grease
not a dog in sight
“What are grits?” asks a Yankee.
Honey, it’s like hot ice cream.
Southern scratch biscuits,
then, there’s the red-eye gravy
smothering the plate
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Dear QuoinMonkey – thank you for your kindness and smiles.
——————————
New Year’s Eve Blue Moon
cookin’ up the black-eyed peas
always takes me back
Lawd, thas’ whole lottah peppah,
this etouffee gonna hurt.
need that New Year’s luck –
in the North, it’s pork loin
sauerkraut in tow.
Comfort food takes time and love,
so keep stirring and we’ll drink.
Oh tiny bubbles,
like the kiss of a hot fist,
you knock me out cold.
Milk goes with chocolate cake,
champagne, with everything.
Milk lovers unite!
milk fluffs the mashed potatoes
wraps the egg in nog.
Howabout slow-cooked grits?
A hominy homily.
All GRITS learn to love
hushpuppies fried in hot grease
not a dog in sight
“What are grits?” asks a Yankee.
Honey, it’s like hot ice cream.
Southern scratch biscuits,
then, there’s the red-eye gravy
smothering the plate
‘Jes add a chonk of cornbread,
and a ‘lil “Who Shot Sally”. 😉
Lawd I am hongry,
‘Looks like the rooster dies tonight,
Chicken on Sunday.
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Walljasper, my pleashah!
——————————
New Year’s Eve Blue Moon
cookin’ up the black-eyed peas
always takes me back
Lawd, thas’ whole lottah peppah,
this etouffee gonna hurt.
need that New Year’s luck –
in the North, it’s pork loin
sauerkraut in tow.
Comfort food takes time and love,
so keep stirring and we’ll drink.
Oh tiny bubbles,
like the kiss of a hot fist,
you knock me out cold.
Milk goes with chocolate cake,
champagne, with everything.
Milk lovers unite!
milk fluffs the mashed potatoes
wraps the egg in nog.
Howabout slow-cooked grits?
A hominy homily.
All GRITS learn to love
hushpuppies fried in hot grease
not a dog in sight
“What are grits?” asks a Yankee.
Honey, it’s like hot ice cream.
Southern scratch biscuits,
then, there’s the red-eye gravy
smothering the plate
‘Jes add a chonk of cornbread,
and a ‘lil “Who Shot Sally”. 😉
Lawd I am hongry,
‘Looks like the rooster dies tonight,
Chicken on Sunday.
Not if Foghorn Leghorn crows,
Or Looney Tunes Barnyard Dawg!
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New Year’s Eve Blue Moon
cookin’ up the black-eyed peas
always takes me back
Lawd, thas’ whole lottah peppah,
this etouffee gonna hurt.
need that New Year’s luck –
in the North, it’s pork loin
sauerkraut in tow.
Comfort food takes time and love,
so keep stirring and we’ll drink.
Oh tiny bubbles,
like the kiss of a hot fist,
you knock me out cold.
Milk goes with chocolate cake,
champagne, with everything.
Milk lovers unite!
milk fluffs the mashed potatoes
wraps the egg in nog.
Howabout slow-cooked grits?
A hominy homily.
All GRITS learn to love
hushpuppies fried in hot grease
not a dog in sight
“What are grits?” asks a Yankee.
Honey, it’s like hot ice cream.
Southern scratch biscuits,
then, there’s the red-eye gravy
smothering the plate
‘Jes add a chonk of cornbread,
and a ‘lil “Who Shot Sally”.
Lawd I am hongry,
‘Looks like the rooster dies tonight,
Chicken on Sunday.
Not if Foghorn Leghorn crows,
Or Looney Tunes Barnyard Dawg!
Creme Brulee,
Immortalized in menus,
struck down by the spoon.
How fallen are the mighty,
The weapons of chefs perish.
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Oh mah my, ‘clipped a word – fixed it. 😉
——————–
New Year’s Eve Blue Moon
cookin’ up the black-eyed peas
always takes me back
Lawd, thas’ whole lottah peppah,
this etouffee gonna hurt.
need that New Year’s luck –
in the North, it’s pork loin
sauerkraut in tow.
Comfort food takes time and love,
so keep stirring and we’ll drink.
Oh tiny bubbles,
like the kiss of a hot fist,
you knock me out cold.
Milk goes with chocolate cake,
champagne, with everything.
Milk lovers unite!
milk fluffs the mashed potatoes
wraps the egg in nog.
Howabout slow-cooked grits?
A hominy homily.
All GRITS learn to love
hushpuppies fried in hot grease
not a dog in sight
“What are grits?” asks a Yankee.
Honey, it’s like hot ice cream.
Southern scratch biscuits,
then, there’s the red-eye gravy
smothering the plate
‘Jes add a chonk of cornbread,
and a ‘lil “Who Shot Sally”.
Lawd I am hongry,
‘Looks like the rooster dies tonight,
Chicken on Sunday.
Not if Foghorn Leghorn crows,
Or Looney Tunes Barnyard Dawg!
Oh Creme Brulee,
Immortalized in menus,
struck down by the spoon.
How fallen are the mighty,
The weapons of chefs perish.
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my feet are frozen
icy earthquakes with each step
no renga, haiku
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No past and no future,
Winter paints my every breath,
Alive in the now.
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lacy ice patterns
mixing grime, grit, and road salt
slide through the Stop sign
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“A dragnet for lost feelings”
Carson McCullers
‘Dust for broken hearts!
Roadblocks at main arteries!
Let no tear escape!’
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cocooned in plastic bags
against tonight’s bitter wind
sidewalk trees
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Robert Morse, love the Carson McCullers. Fantastic.
A~Lotus, I’ve missed you! I’m working on the 2010 haiku post for red Ravine. I usually don’t get it out until February. I’ll try to make it earlier.
In the meantime, I’d like to post some of our community poetry (renga) from 2009 on red Ravine. I’m taking a look at that this weekend. I sure appreciate all who stop by and leave their poetry here.
_________
gray squirrels leaping
snowdust flying off the roof
landing in potholes
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[…] can find helpful links, definitions, and read more about the relationship between the forms in haiku 2 (one-a-day). Deep bows to Natalie and Clark. And to the poets who visit red Ravine, and help keep poetry […]
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Hey QM & yb! I’ve missed you both! Yeah, I know I haven’t been around much! Work and life have gotten me busy–but in a good-busy-kind of way, you know. And next week, school starts (AGAIN!) for me! I can’t believe it. The time goes by so quickly! It feels like my vacation from school wasn’t long enough. Also, I have been working on applications to nursing school. Geez, it’s a long and tedious process (somewhat nerve-wrecking if you will), but I just really want to get in and get started already! I have 2+ years of experience with patients, and I’m more than ready!! It’s like I’m saying, “Pick me! Pick me! Pick me!” Here’s to hoping that I get in to at least ONE nursing school this year! Wish me luck!!
—————————————-
late winter ginger skies–
two early blue jays
picking up sticks
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For QuoinMonkey,
Thanks for your response, re: Carson McCullers. It makes me wonder if I created some confusion with my haiku. The initial quote is from THE HEART IS A LONELY HUNTER. I had that quote in mind when I wrote my haiku. I put single quote marks around it because I imagined the words being spoken by a police dispatcher, kind of an all-points bulletin.
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Robert Morse, it’s a complex haiku. I know a little about Carson McCullers but haven’t read all of her work. I pulled off of that knowledge when I read it. But your explanation helps to gain more clarity. What do you think of her as an author? Just curious. I’d like to read more of her work.
_________
living in the North,
I’m drawn to Southern writers —
region of my birth
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QM
I have only read two of McCuller’s books, “HEART” and THE MEMBER OF THE WEDDING. I know that Natalie is very fond of her writing. She read from “The Ballad of the Sad Cafe” at the workshp of her that I attended. I saw the film of THIALH with Alan arkin and Sondra Locke. It deals with far fewer characters and incidents than the book.
She creates characters who linger in the mind after the book is finished. The ordinary is made extraordinary.
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[…] find helpful links, definitions, and read more about the relationship between the poetry forms in haiku 2 (one-a-day). Deep bows to Natalie and Clark. And to the poets who visit red Ravine, and help keep poetry […]
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Robert Morse, I remember that about Natalie. She loves Carson McCuller’s Ballad of the Sad Cafe and read to us from the book, too, when I first took workshops with her.
I had to look up THIALH as I didn’t know about it. Now I want to see the film. I agree with your assessment of her characters — they stick with you long after you put the book down. I find Flannery O’Connor to be that way, too. That’s a good writer, isn’t it?
I need to get going on the new haiku post for 2010. Still have not pulled it together yet, though I am still writing haiku. It grounds me. Always a pleasure when you stop by Robert Morse.
A~Lotus, wow, nursing school! You are ambitious. From what I know of you, you will be great at it. I have a friend who was a nurse but is now studying to be a doctor in Grenada. I’m always amazed at the great lengths our healthcare practitioners go to when becoming doctors and nurses. I admire and respect the work.
__________
black cat sleeps nearby
naked oaks drenched in white rain
January thaw
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Hey, QM, yb & all redRaviners! 8)
Today has been a beautiful, breezy day. It was a bit humid for the past couple of days. I was so sad about that, but waking up this morning with the wind howling through the house, I was skipping around like a kid! lol. It doesn’t get too wintry down here in Texas, so I love every moment of it when it IS cold and chilly!
Anyway, haiku has also been grounding me for the past 1 1/2 years, and I’m now renewing my practice for 2010, too! Another journey indeed! Can’t wait to see your 2010 haiku post, QM! Look forward to it actually!
Yes, I want to be a nurse, but ultimately, I want to have a doctorate in nursing. That way, I can contribute sound research and practice to the field and at the same time, helping people! Deep down, I still want to be a doctor (MD), but it’s going to take me too many years, and I do not have the finances to go to med school, so nursing is a great and FLEXIBLE field for me to be in the medical/healthcare field. Plus, I realize that I want to live my life–travel to places (since I haven’t gone anywhere outside the U.S.), do medical missions, publish a book, etc. So really, I am still learning how to live a good life!
———————————————————-
black cat sleeps nearby
naked oaks drenched in white rain
January thaw
wrapped around potted plants
old and new puddles
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Who needs heart-to-hearts?
For real results, have yourself
A head-to-heart chat.
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A friend – born in Hawaii – is cooking for the needy next Sunday in Minneapolis. Here’s to him.
It may not be kosher,
but roasting up that pulled pork,
that is a mitzvah.
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A~Lotus, you have a great set of life goals there. I can see you accomplishing them all. I’m not fond of the humidity either. Don’t mind the heat. Just the wet humidity. I think it’s true what you say — we often have to learn, to teach ourselves, how to live a good life. And that looks different, depending on who we are.
________________
black cat sleeps nearby
naked oaks drenched in white rain
January thaw
wrapped around potted plants
old and new puddles
February rolls
Lioness over landscape
4 inches of snow
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Robert Morse, ain’t it the truth? Head to heart, so much more logical and down to earth. 8)
Walljasper, welcome back. So that’s Superbowl Sunday, your friend will be cooking for the needy? Kind of cool. A giving thing to do.
Robert Morse, along the head/heart thread:
____________
watching from sidelines
when the Saints go marching in —
heart? Vikings purple
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Continuing QuoinMonkey’s Renga
—————————————
black cat sleeps nearby
naked oaks drenched in white rain
January thaw
wrapped around potted plants
old and new puddles
February rolls
Lioness over landscape
4 inches of snow
White blanket and wool blanket,
draped across our shoulders.
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black cat sleeps nearby
naked oaks drenched in white rain
January thaw
wrapped around potted plants
old and new puddles
February rolls
Lioness over landscape
4 inches of snow
White blanket and wool blanket,
draped across our shoulders.
curled by the fireplace
old love letters
as an offering to cupid
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black cat sleeps nearby
naked oaks drenched in white rain
January thaw
wrapped around potted plants
old and new puddles
February rolls
Lioness over landscape
4 inches of snow
White blanket and wool blanket,
draped across our shoulders.
curled by the fireplace
old love letters
as an offering to cupid —
arrows ping across the room
piercing a red box of hearts
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black cat sleeps nearby
naked oaks drenched in white rain
January thaw
wrapped around potted plants
old and new puddles
February rolls
Lioness over landscape
4 inches of snow
White blanket and wool blanket,
draped across our shoulders.
curled by the fireplace
old love letters
as an offering to cupid –
arrows ping across the room
piercing a red box of hearts
Like a fireplace screen
our shy and breathless restraint,
spare the heart’s tinder.
Lest sparks glow too hot, too fast
reduced to passion’s cinder.
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Just for fun…
A little over a week ago, you had the Oracle/Sun press conference, , the iPad announcement and The State of the Union address, all on one momentous day. ;-}
Oracle Sunrise,
A tablet from Mac Sinai,
Wind from Washington.
_________
This past Friday, the CEO of Sun Micro resigned via a haiku posted on Twitter! Here’s mine, dedicated to his ritual departure.
Not just haiku.
A sepaku haiku!
That’s real leadership.
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[…] around the edges. One of the cranes is hard to see; it’s behind branches. I wanted to write a haiku but didn’t have time. I invite anyone else out there to write a haiku, or a caption, or […]
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White as the snow,
stilt-like legs, tall, majestic.
Crane your neck to see.
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grey trees touch grey sky
grey concrete banked with grey snow
red station wagon
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From consideration,
we are borne to gratitude,
and are awakened.
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For my wife Ann (posted with her approval)
Our moments in time
Strung together over years
A priceless necklace.
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Very nice, Robert.
And thank you to Mrs. Morse,
for her kindest nod.
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Walljasper,
Thank you. I have been enjoying your work the last few months. The one that made me laugh out loud was the haiku concerning the Thanksgiving turkeys.
In commenting on my haiku in haiku-form yourself, it crossed my mind that all comments on this post, for a designated period of time could be via haiku. It would be a challenge. Any opinions?
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I like the idea Robert Morse, comments via haiku. Let’s try it. Great to see you breathepeace. Walljasper, I loved the Oracle/Sun/Micro haiku. And a Valentine from Robert Morse to Ann. Some great haiku.
________
under the weather;
Walljasper and Robert Morse,
thank you for the lift
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setting into
the folds of a lotus
a dazed bee
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Haiku comments?
‘Really like the idea,
Thank you to Robert.
—————————————-
You have to wonder,
if Larson of “The Far Side”
ever wrote haikus?
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‘Hope you feel better,
and your spirits rise higher
each day, QuoinMonkey!
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dangling until spring
deep snow blanketed maple
before red leaves fell
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inside looking out
snow falls like rain but silent
filling bird feeder
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winter dazed spring thaw
can’t crack the frozen tundra
ice dams on the roof
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clearing snow from walk
shovel after shovel full
mind as still and white
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thick and groggy head
virus mutant on the run
swimming in the cold
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Snow piled atop snow
Where’s my winter wonderland?
In my mind, of course.
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What of history
if Rome had deployed nail guns
for crucifixions.
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[…] like I’ve accomplished a great deal. I know from past practices of writing, mandalas, and haiku, that yearly dedication to a craft can take you a long way. It can also drive you crazy! I thought […]
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Response to an unsuspecting FB friend who posted “Oh… for a simpler time. ( a You Tube clip of Ford singing to a child). “I don’t suppose this would be on TV today for several reasons. Still, I’d love to have been the kid on Tennessee Ernie Ford’s lap!”
Fair game I say. ;-}
“Come sit on my lap
like Tennessee Ernie Ford”
says your weird Uncle.
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Dried, even splitting,
purse your lips to a kind smile,
lest the heart grow hard.
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A FB friend just posted that he is on crutches for 2 weeks with a stress fracture. Fair game, eh?
And so here I am,
claiming a fractured lifestyle,
with stress as my crutch.
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FB firend writes “Do we really need a chocolate cross for Easter this year (now available at Walmart)?”. Fair game again.
My genuflexion,
to a chocolate confection,
requires confession.
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‘Read your snowbound post,
and wish you a springtime toast,
“May all snowmen roast”.
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For our Robert Morse,
and all who long for the spring,
“Hang-on” haiku:
‘Read your snowbound post,
and wish you a springtime toast,
“May all snowmen roast”.
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[…] -related to post: haiku 2 (one-a-day) […]
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reading Walljasper
Tennessee Ernie, roast, toast —
all life is Fair Game!
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Tennessee Ernie
Reminded me of Kovacs
Minus 16 tons.
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Robert, you devil.
You made me spit out coffee,
Laughing ’bout Kovacs.
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Awaken each day,
grateful for the smallest joy
consigned to kindness
a joyful participant
in the sorrows of the world.
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hmmm – revision 1 – less evangelical, perchance a hint of Zen?
A moment awake,
grateful in the smallest joy
consigned to kindness
a joyful participant
in the sorrows of the world.
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Walljasper, yes, a hint of Zen in that last one. Like it.
_________
crackling cellophane
coconut chocolate blend
rattles my taste buds
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Adding to Ms. de QuoinMonkey’s haiku
crackling cellophane
coconut chocolate blend
rattles my taste buds
suddenly the tongue shivers,
secret sour gummi worm.
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Some dirty laundry
requires a heavy sudsing
and cold Guinness rinse.
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(advice to a FB Friend, fretting about not wearing green on St Patrick Day)
Buy a green Sharpie,
give to friend, drink up, pass out.
Wake up wearing green.
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(The “I” below is a fictional one)
Stride for stride with Jones
And all the greener grass mine
I’m happy!…I think.
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sit by warm oven
sun shines on mid-March snowfall
eating a brownie
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Certain: Death, taxes
And yet, it’s spring that brings us
Tax time and Easter.
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A slight improvement of the above:
Certain: Death, taxes
And yet, it’s spring that welcomes
Tax time and Easter.
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In Roman custom,
a tax fully paid was stamped
“Consummatum es”.
A joyous Easter to all.
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Ack, ‘left off the “t” in “est”
In Roman custom,
a tax fully paid was stamped
“Consummatum est”.
A joyous Easter to all.
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Oh, my haiku friends! I hope you don’t think I’ve forgotten about you. I’ve been distracted with photography lately but am still writing haiku. I so appreciate your haiku and am reading every day.
Happy Easter, walljasper. And Happy Tax Day to all. I’m going to be meeting with the accountant this Tuesday. I can’t wait to get them done.
______________
blustery Spring day
whacks snow shovel across porch
lands on Easter grass
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Happy Easter, QuoinMonkey – glad to hear you are well and enjoying photography.
Now, not too many jelly beans, ok? 😉
—————————————————
Easter heralds spring,
Fuzzy ducklings flutter wings,
Chocolate eggs hatch.
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Deal! I’m trying to stay away from the candy. Love those Easter Eggs though. We turned them into deviled eggs. Hmmmm.
___________
Easter heralds spring,
Fuzzy ducklings flutter wings,
Chocolate eggs hatch.
Spring makes a raucous debut,
Blowing Easter eggs to town!
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[…] to posts: haiku 2 (one-a-day) and Watch Me Pull A Rabbit Out Of My Hat — last year’s Easter post with info on the […]
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late night escapade
the practice of stealing time
lurks in the shadows
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snow melts from shadows
nature’s cycle continues
winter yields to spring
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Words of comfort to a returning friend:
Farewell, vacation.
Parting is such sweet sorrow.
Now to get some rest.
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Stripeypants mischief?
Inquiring minds need to know.
Let cat out of bag.
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Other friend is considering melatonin for a Zurich flight in the a.m.
————————-
That melatonin,
always works wonders for me,
with a vodka rinse.
————————-
‘Have no airline perks
so for long flights it’s strictly
Chemical Upgrade.
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At ‘table of life,
there’s room for all of God’s creatures,
next to the ‘taters.
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Walljasper, you make me smile.
________________
Stripeypants mischief?
Inquiring minds need to know.
Let cat out of bag.
Stripey’s full of surprises,
no telling what he’ll do next!
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PINE TREE HAIKU BLUES (continued)
My sap and needles
Say that I’m pine through and through
Still I can’t please yew.
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they looked like branches
antlers in back of pick-up
sad, I look away
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chartreuse lace covers
branches lifted to the sky
welcoming Spring sun
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left, right, or center?
standing still at the crossroads
change is in the wind
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rain goes with the flow
puddle on the blue table
makes firm foundation
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spring in tug-o’-war
with late April snow showers
winter will not quit
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Dancing Haiku,
leads to the Tanka Tango.
“Shall we Renga, dear?”
——————————-
continuing QuoinMonkey’s haiku
left, right, or center?
standing still at the crossroads
change is in the wind
climb higher, the winds soften.
we soar in all directions.
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Re: PINE TREE HAIKU BLUES (continued)
Robert Morse,
such happy rascality,
I just laughed out loud.
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continuing QuoinMonkey’s Tanka de StripeyPants
Stripeypants mischief?
Inquiring minds need to know.
Let cat out of bag.
Stripey’s full of surprises,
no telling what he’ll do next!
Nine lives, more talents.
‘Pants is the baker’s helper
and a magician.
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continuing Tanka de StripeyPants
Stripeypants mischief?
Inquiring minds need to know.
Let cat out of bag.
Stripey’s full of surprises,
no telling what he’ll do next!
Nine lives, more talents.
‘Pants is the baker’s helper
and a magician.
Disappearing, appearing
in only this one moment.
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continuing Tanka de StripeyPants
Stripeypants mischief?
Inquiring minds need to know.
Let cat out of bag.
Stripey’s full of surprises,
no telling what he’ll do next!
Nine lives, more talents.
‘Pants is the baker’s helper
and a magician.
Disappearing, appearing
in only this one moment.
“Here, kitty, kitty…”
Stripeypants will not be moved.
Challah bread Buddha.
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Re: Celeb Adultery
To err is human,
and to forgive is divine,
and then there’s rehab.
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walljasper, this made me chuckle:
Dancing Haiku,
leads to the Tanka Tango.
“Shall we Renga, dear?”
——————————-
continuing….
left, right, or center?
standing still at the crossroads
change is in the wind
climb higher, the winds soften.
we soar in all directions.
restless sandbagging
searching for inner compass
wandering True North
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continuing….
left, right, or center?
standing still at the crossroads
change is in the wind
climb higher, the winds soften.
we soar in all directions.
restless sandbagging
searching for inner compass
wandering True North
A quest to live in the now.
A moment of contentment.
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was compelled to make a slight revision to last night’s addition to the renga.
————————
left, right, or center?
standing still at the crossroads
change is in the wind
climb higher, the winds soften.
we soar in all directions.
restless sandbagging
searching for inner compass
wandering True North
to know where you are going
you must know where you come from.
grasp the mirror,
dare to be who you are and
become who you see.
joyous, alive in the now,
a new horizon appears.
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Renga B (A different branch?)
left, right, or center?
standing still at the crossroads
change is in the wind
climb higher, the winds soften.
we soar in all directions.
restless sandbagging
searching for inner compass
wandering True North
Onward beyond the Dew line
Passing my inner Don’t line.
To walljasper and QuoinMonkey,
I apologize, but I also woke up with an idea for continuing this renga. Is it okay if this renga sprouted another branch? Is it okay to have both branches available to build upon?
p.s. ‘Celeb Adultery’ and “Dancin haiku” are great!
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tomorrow is May
bouncing between bare branches
snow does not tell time
(you can tell breathepeace & I live in the time warp of Wyoming, where the weather is very confused)
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Hi Robert – no worries from me – perfectly fine – the more, the merrier and creative….plus I am giggling about those dew and don’t dew lines already. heheheh. Love it.
‘Glad you got a smile from
‘Celeb Adultery’ and “Dancin haiku” too.
Go ahead and let’s spin offf two versions – it will be fun.
Quoinmokey? Is that ok with you?
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Walljasper and Robert Morse, I am totally on board! I love my haiku friends. And love keeping these renga going. It’s fun for me and grounding. I’ll be back later to add to the renga. Heading out soon to walk the labyrinth. Marylin and breathepeace, what’s going on with the snow in Wyoming? Though it is blustery, windy, and cool here. Last night there was thunder and hail when I was up late working on photos!
_____________
In Honor of Beltane & World Labyrinth Day
Build Beltane bonfires,
Or go walk the Labyrinth —
It will free your soul.
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huaraches in snow?
no, no, tell me ’tis not so
I would dance on grass
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The Verdict
————–
“The jury votes ‘death'”!
“Uh, sir, this is traffic court.”
Murderous traffic.
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spring chatter
a mother’s offering of worms
to her nest
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How silent the spring,
How quiet in Red Ravine.
“Look Ma, no headphones!”
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Hot Death Valley daze,
thirsting for some haiku,
but the well seems dry.
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rowing with mother
two loons dive to mud bottom
we skim the surface
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Hot Death Valley daze,
thirsting for some haiku,
but the well seems dry.
Up ahead there’s a mirage–
It’s Reagan pitching Borax!
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lol, Robert – continuing…
——————————
Hot Death Valley daze,
thirsting for some haiku,
but the well seems dry.
Up ahead there’s a mirage–
It’s Reagan pitching Borax!
Crack that there whip, Clem.
Get them forty mules movin’
Let’s get out of here!
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lol, Robert – continuing…
——————————
Hot Death Valley daze,
thirsting for some haiku,
but the well seems dry.
Up ahead there’s a mirage–
It’s Reagan pitching Borax!
Crack that there whip, Clem.
Get them forty mules movin’
Let’s get out of here!
“We only got twenty mules…
you must be seein’ double”.
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(Note to Walljasper: Great addition. Also, I’m running out of “Death Valley Days” points of reference.)
736.
Hot Death Valley daze,
thirsting for some haiku,
but the well seems dry.
Up ahead there’s a mirage–
It’s Reagan pitching Borax!
Crack that there whip, Clem.
Get them forty mules movin’
Let’s get out of here!
“We only got twenty mules…
you must be seein’ double”.
Clem says to the mules:
“You’s a team! Dasher! Dancer!…
Um, let’s try again.”
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Heeheh! I can still hear the faint echos of the ’50s t.v. theme song and even hum it. But I can’t find my car keys at any given time.
———————————————–
Hot Death Valley daze,
thirsting for some haiku,
but the well seems dry.
Up ahead there’s a mirage–
It’s Reagan pitching Borax!
Crack that there whip, Clem.
Get them forty mules movin’
Let’s get out of here!
“We only got twenty mules…
you must be seein’ double”.
Clem says to the mules:
“You’s a team! Dasher! Dancer!…
Um, let’s try again.”
Boraxo, oh Boraxo?
Where art thou, oh Boraxo?
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lol. Looks like you all are having fun. It’s starting to sound like a song now! 🙂
—————————————
on our checkered picnic blanket
playing chess
all the birds and squirrels
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continuing on the theme de Mdm. Lotus:
on our checkered picnic blanket
playing chess
all the birds and squirrels
Chipmunks fuss on the sidelines,
They loathe chess, prefer crackers.
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Still loving my red Ravine haiku friends. In Pennsylvania, back home to Minnesota tomorrow. And all the places in between.
_____________
bonds, rippling rings
the kinship of family
both stretches and sings
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Hot Death Valley daze,
thirsting for some haiku,
but the well seems dry.
Up ahead there’s a mirage–
It’s Reagan pitching Borax!
Crack that there whip, Clem.
Get them forty mules movin’
Let’s get out of here!
“We only got twenty mules…
you must be seein’ double”.
Clem says to the mules:
“You’s a team! Dasher! Dancer!…
Um, let’s try again.”
Boraxo, oh Boraxo?
Where art thou, oh Boraxo?
Alas! Clem went mad.
He sold the Team for only
“A Horse with No Name.”
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Robert – you crack me up. 😉
——————————
Hot Death Valley daze,
thirsting for some haiku,
but the well seems dry.
Up ahead there’s a mirage–
It’s Reagan pitching Borax!
Crack that there whip, Clem.
Get them forty mules movin’
Let’s get out of here!
“We only got twenty mules…
you must be seein’ double”.
Clem says to the mules:
“You’s a team! Dasher! Dancer!…
Um, let’s try again.”
Boraxo, oh Boraxo?
Where art thou, oh Boraxo?
Alas! Clem went mad.
He sold the Team for only
“A Horse with No Name.”
Jorgensen’s surgeon bought them,
made them all Lipizzaners.
Good bye to borax,
no more hauling and draying,
just lots of rearing up.
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Ah, so good to hear from you, Ms. de QuoinMonkey – I loved your haiku describing family and kinship – very finely wrought and he concluding word truly sings with a bell-like quality.
Travel happily and safely, ok?
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walljasper, thank you so much. I have made it home to MN safely and am mostly resting this weekend. Hard visit home but also a very good one. Grateful for the opportunity.
________
gates open and close
and some of us use doorstops
to sweeten the odds
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continuing Ms. de QuoinMonkey’s haiku
———————————————-
gates open and close
and some of us use doorstops
to sweeten the odds
Soft glimmers of light beckon
when doors and hearts are open.
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continuing with Walljasper
———————————————-
gates open and close
and some of us use doorstops
to sweeten the odds
Soft glimmers of light beckon
when doors and hearts are open.
hiding in shadows
darkened relics of the past
are slowly exposed
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continuing the Ballroom Renga with Ms. de QuoinMonkey
—————————————gates open and close
gates open and close
and some of us use doorstops
to sweeten the odds
Soft glimmers of light beckon
when doors and hearts are open.
hiding in shadows
darkened relics of the past
are slowly exposed
like old photos brought to light,
glories and tears fade as one.
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ach – ‘must do a quick Revisione de Renga with Ms. de QuoinMonkey
—————————————gates open and close
gates open and close
and some of us use doorstops
to sweeten the odds
soft glimmers of light beckon
through doors and hearts left ajar.
hiding in shadows
darkened relics of the past
are slowly exposed
Like old photos brought to light,
glories and tears fade as one.
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ach!
sorry, one more slight rev, Ms de QuoinMonkey.
——————————————–
gates open and close
and some of us use doorstops
to sweeten the odds
soft glimmers of light beckon
through doors and souls left ajar.
hiding in shadows
darkened relics of the past
are slowly exposed
Like old photos brought to light,
glories and tears fade as one.
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I like it Walljasper. Continuing…
——————————————–
gates open and close
gates open and close
and some of us use doorstops
to sweeten the odds
soft glimmers of light beckon
through doors and souls left ajar.
hiding in shadows
darkened relics of the past
are slowly exposed
Like old photos brought to light,
glories and tears fade as one
blended shades of gray
yet life is not black & white —
technicolor dreams
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i am very glad for your return. continuing
——————————————–
gates open and close
gates open and close
and some of us use doorstops
to sweeten the odds
soft glimmers of light beckon
through doors and souls left ajar.
hiding in shadows
darkened relics of the past
are slowly exposed
Like old photos brought to light,
glories and tears fade as one
blended shades of gray
yet life is not black & white –
technicolor dreams
eyes flutter awake to glimpse
butterfly’s shimmering wings.
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Someone is missing.
Where is that happy rascal
Mister Robert Morse?
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In our next chapter,
Clem grows to to regret his trade
for “Horse-With-No-Name”.
Sells the horse to Elmer’s Glue,
and catches a train to Spain.
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Someone is missing.
Where is that happy rascal
Mister Robert Morse?
Pondering the Big Questions
Such as: Live or Memorex?
The spill on the tube-
Constant like a test pattern
But this ain’t no test.
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[…] -related to post: haiku 2 (one-a-day) […]
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Hey Robert – glad to see you back!
—————————————
In our next chapter,
Clem grows to to regret his trade
for “Horse-With-No-Name”.
Sells the horse to Elmer’s Glue,
and catches a train to Spain.
Ticket please, senor”,
the conductor says to Clem
as train clacks down tracks.
Ticket in hand he looks up
It’s Reagan pitching Borax!
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a wedding haiku
lavender lilacs
clouds of rose in sunset sky
embrace bride and groom
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In our next chapter,
Clem grows to to regret his trade
for “Horse-With-No-Name”.
Sells the horse to Elmer’s Glue,
and catches a train to Spain.
Ticket please, senor”,
the conductor says to Clem
as train clacks down tracks.
Ticket in hand he looks up
It’s Reagan pitching Borax!
Clem’s brain crashed. He screamed:
“Mirage! But where’s the desert?”
He never reached Spain
But flying home: “Terrain in
Spain viewed mainly from the plane.”
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In our next chapter,
Clem grows to regret his trade
for “Horse-With-No-Name”.
Sells the horse to Elmer’s Glue,
and catches a train to Spain.
Ticket please, senor”,
the conductor says to Clem
as train clacks down tracks.
Ticket in hand he looks up
It’s Reagan pitching Borax!
Clem’s brain crashed. He screamed:
“Mirage! But where’s the desert?”
He never reached Spain
But flying home: “Terrain in
Spain viewed mainly from the plane.”
Clem was committed.
“Get thee to a nuttery!”
His doctor decreed.
Walljasper, this is a story in dire need of another character. I don’t think the conductor or the doctor fits the bill. I could be wrong.
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LOL! Loved the Terrain-in-Spain and nuttery pokes. Clever indeed. So I guess here ends the Saga of Clem. Much fun, Robert. ;}
——————————–
In our next chapter,
Clem grows to regret his trade
for “Horse-With-No-Name”.
Sells the horse to Elmer’s Glue,
and catches a train to Spain.
Ticket please, senor”,
the conductor says to Clem
as train clacks down tracks.
Ticket in hand he looks up
It’s Reagan pitching Borax!
Clem’s brain crashed. He screamed:
“Mirage! But where’s the desert?”
He never reached Spain
But flying home: “Terrain in
Spain viewed mainly from the plane.”
Clem was committed.
“Get thee to a nuttery!”
his doctor decreed.
Clem laughed and tore off his mask,
It’s Reagan pitching Borax!
Finis.
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Walljasper, now THERE’S and ending! Bravo!
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All must blush and bow.
Our measure of mirth and joy
is conspiracy!
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Ms. de QuoinMonkey, continuing?
——————————————–
gates open and close
gates open and close
and some of us use doorstops
to sweeten the odds
soft glimmers of light beckon
through doors and souls left ajar.
hiding in shadows
darkened relics of the past
are slowly exposed
Like old photos brought to light,
glories and tears fade as one
blended shades of gray
yet life is not black & white –
technicolor dreams
eyes flutter awake to glimpse
butterfly’s shimmering wings.
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Most definitely, walljasper. 8)
——————————————–
gates open and close
gates open and close
and some of us use doorstops
to sweeten the odds
soft glimmers of light beckon
through doors and souls left ajar.
hiding in shadows
darkened relics of the past
are slowly exposed
Like old photos brought to light,
glories and tears fade as one
blended shades of gray
yet life is not black & white –
technicolor dreams
eyes flutter awake to glimpse
butterfly’s shimmering wings.
holding on to hope
all is not as it appears
caution to the wind?
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[…] to posts: PRACTICE — Don’t Take Anything Personally — 15min, haiku 2 (one-a-day), WRITING TOPIC — THE FOUR […]
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Hi – I like your expression, Ms. QuoinMonkey. ‘Am enjoying this renga with you. Continuing…
———————————–
gates open and close
gates open and close
and some of us use doorstops
to sweeten the odds
soft glimmers of light beckon
through doors and souls left ajar.
hiding in shadows
darkened relics of the past
are slowly exposed
Like old photos brought to light,
glories and tears fade as one
blended shades of gray
yet life is not black & white –
technicolor dreams
eyes flutter awake to glimpse
butterfly’s shimmering wings.
holding on to hope
all is not as it appears
caution to the wind?
the wind is born of caution,
clasp hands, dare be born aloft.
the winds are born of caution,
dare we fly in their manner?
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Ach, I left some draft lines at the bottom of my last post- am removing them – my apology.
—————————
Hi – I like your expression, Ms. QuoinMonkey. ‘Am enjoying this renga with you. Continuing…
———————————–
gates open and close
gates open and close
and some of us use doorstops
to sweeten the odds
soft glimmers of light beckon
through doors and souls left ajar.
hiding in shadows
darkened relics of the past
are slowly exposed
Like old photos brought to light,
glories and tears fade as one
blended shades of gray
yet life is not black & white –
technicolor dreams
eyes flutter awake to glimpse
butterfly’s shimmering wings.
holding on to hope
all is not as it appears
caution to the wind?
the wind is born of caution,
clasp hands, dare be born aloft.
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Thanks for continuing the renga with me, walljasper. No need to apologize at all. 8)
———————————–
gates open and close
gates open and close
and some of us use doorstops
to sweeten the odds
soft glimmers of light beckon
through doors and souls left ajar.
hiding in shadows
darkened relics of the past
are slowly exposed
Like old photos brought to light,
glories and tears fade as one
blended shades of gray
yet life is not black & white –
technicolor dreams
eyes flutter awake to glimpse
butterfly’s shimmering wings.
holding on to hope
all is not as it appears
caution to the wind?
the wind is born of caution,
clasp hands, dare be born aloft.
soaring takes courage —
fearfulness stopped in her tracks,
drained and looking pale
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Added two lines of my lines from a previous renga we id some time ago – I think they might be a better fit in “gates open and close’….please see what you think and prefer, ok?
—————————–
gates open and close
gates open and close
and some of us use doorstops
to sweeten the odds
soft glimmers of light beckon
through doors and souls left ajar.
hiding in shadows
darkened relics of the past
are slowly exposed
Like old photos brought to light,
glories and tears fade as one
blended shades of gray
yet life is not black & white –
technicolor dreams
eyes flutter awake to glimpse
butterfly’s shimmering wings.
holding on to hope
all is not as it appears
caution to the wind?
the wind is born of caution,
clasp hands, dare be born aloft.
soaring takes courage —
fearfulness stopped in her tracks,
drained and looking pale
Climb higher. the winds soften.
we soar in all directions.
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walljasper, I just realized when I went back to the old renga, that I write about the wind a lot. I love wind. And there were two versions of the old renga going, one from you and one from Robert Morse. That was kind of cool. I think it was about the time I went out of town.
So here’s the old verse:
left, right, or center?
standing still at the crossroads
change is in the wind
climb higher, the winds soften.
we soar in all directions.
New verse:
soaring takes courage —
fearfulness stopped in her tracks,
drained and looking pale
Climb higher. the winds soften.
we soar in all directions.
I think those lines work nicely in both. Don’t you?
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Ah, this is very nice indeed – I like it, Ms. de QuoinMonkey. I think it works beautifully in both Rengas.
May I make a slight rev to my last line in the earlier section? my last line last line is perhaps a tad too evangelical.
So here’s the old verse:
holding on to hope
all is not as it appears
caution to the wind?
the wind is born of caution,
clasp hands, dare be born aloft.
————
New verse rev A:
holding on to hope
all is not as it appears
caution to the wind?
the wind is born of caution,
clasp hands and be born aloft.
——–
New verse rev B :
holding on to hope
all is not as it appears
caution to the wind?
the wind is born of caution,
rustles warn, breezes beckon.
Anyways, either of these are perhaps a bit less conclusive.
Your choice of any of the three is a pleasure.
😉
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Oh no. This is almost taking on the nature of the Anglican tradition….where nothing is ever quite decided. 😉
New verse rev C:
holding on to hope
all is not as it appears
caution to the wind?
the wind is born of caution,
clasp hands and be swept aloft.
Ach.
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to sort out life’s steps,
dance the renga electric
sing the haiku.
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walljasper, I like the last one, Version C.
_______________
gates open and close
gates open and close
and some of us use doorstops
to sweeten the odds
soft glimmers of light beckon
through doors and souls left ajar.
hiding in shadows
darkened relics of the past
are slowly exposed
Like old photos brought to light,
glories and tears fade as one
blended shades of gray
yet life is not black & white –
technicolor dreams
eyes flutter awake to glimpse
butterfly’s shimmering wings.
holding on to hope
all is not as it appears
caution to the wind?
the wind is born of caution,
clasp hands and be swept aloft.
soaring takes courage —
fearfulness stopped in her tracks,
drained and looking pale
Climb higher. the winds soften.
we soar in all directions.
clear sight of ground now
green pools of Summer grasses
both feet touching down
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a kind grace, your choice. 🙂
——————————-
gates open and close
gates open and close
and some of us use doorstops
to sweeten the odds
soft glimmers of light beckon
through doors and souls left ajar.
hiding in shadows
darkened relics of the past
are slowly exposed
Like old photos brought to light,
glories and tears fade as one
blended shades of gray
yet life is not black & white –
technicolor dreams
eyes flutter awake to glimpse
butterfly’s shimmering wings.
holding on to hope
all is not as it appears
caution to the wind?
the wind is born of caution,
clasp hands and be swept aloft.
soaring takes courage —
fearfulness stopped in her tracks,
drained and looking pale
climb higher. the winds soften.
we soar in all directions.
clear sight of ground now
green pools of Summer grasses
both feet touching down
fragrant and soft tendril touch,
bedded to bowed buds, their blades.
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[…] -related to posts: Strawberry Moon, haiku 2 (one-a-day) […]
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First, Clem goes bonkers,
Now I fret about finding
Mister Robert Morse. ;-}
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Summer is here!
——————————-
gates open and close
gates open and close
and some of us use doorstops
to sweeten the odds
soft glimmers of light beckon
through doors and souls left ajar.
hiding in shadows
darkened relics of the past
are slowly exposed
Like old photos brought to light,
glories and tears fade as one
blended shades of gray
yet life is not black & white –
technicolor dreams
eyes flutter awake to glimpse
butterfly’s shimmering wings.
holding on to hope
all is not as it appears
caution to the wind?
the wind is born of caution,
clasp hands and be swept aloft.
soaring takes courage —
fearfulness stopped in her tracks,
drained and looking pale
climb higher. the winds soften.
we soar in all directions.
clear sight of ground now
green pools of Summer grasses
both feet touching down
fragrant and soft tendril touch,
bedded to bowed buds, their blades.
frogs leave tiny prints,
inside morning splashed dewdrops —
whippoorwill’s fancy
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I like your last line – I recalled an ancient song.
[audio src="http://www.mbr-pwrc.usgs.gov/id/htmwav/h4170so.mp3" /]
——————————-
gates open and close
gates open and close
and some of us use doorstops
to sweeten the odds
soft glimmers of light beckon
through doors and souls left ajar.
hiding in shadows
darkened relics of the past
are slowly exposed
Like old photos brought to light,
glories and tears fade as one
blended shades of gray
yet life is not black & white –
technicolor dreams
eyes flutter awake to glimpse
butterfly’s shimmering wings.
holding on to hope
all is not as it appears
caution to the wind?
the wind is born of caution,
clasp hands and be swept aloft.
soaring takes courage —
fearfulness stopped in her tracks,
drained and looking pale
climb higher. the winds soften.
we soar in all directions.
clear sight of ground now
green pools of Summer grasses
both feet touching down
fragrant and soft tendril touch,
bedded to bowed buds, their blades.
frogs leave tiny prints,
inside morning splashed dewdrops —
whippoorwill’s fancy
the morning sun meanders,
a day revealed, life unmasked.
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love it, walljasper. So cool to hear the sound of the whippoorwill. Do you like it that way, or this: Whip-poor-will. I’m thinking that may be a good way to end that renga. I like the idea of the whole renga taking place in one day —
a day revealed, life unmasked.
Nice.
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Ah glad you like it, as much as I loved your evocative observation of “whippoorwill’s fancy”. I think I like “whippoorwill”, without the hyphens. Also, agreed – a good point about the renga taking place in a day…and a lifetime.
Upon posting the most recent lines yesterday, it occurred that we had almost crafted another haiku (2 lines out of 3!).
————
I liked your last line –
I recalled an ancient song
————
‘Just one more line and voila, haiku form.
I liked your last line –
I recalled an ancient song –
my mother’s soft voice.
————
If we repeat your wonderful line – “whippoorwill’s fancy”, then together we have crafted a haiku that might fit well into the current renga…or to begin afresh. A haiku crafted in the spirit of renga..or “micro-renga”.
Here is how it evolved…or devolved. 😉
1
whippoorwill’s fancy
I recalled an ancient song
my mother’s soft voice.
2
whipporrwill’s fancy
I recalled an ancient song
our mother’s soft voice.
3
whipporrwill’s fancy
recalling an ancient song
our mother’s soft voice.
4
whipporrwill’s fancy
remember the ancient song?
our mother’s soft voice?
—————————
What are your ideas?
Do you mind the repeating of your whippoorwill observation in a new co-crafted haiku?
‘Thought you would get a kick out of #4, which poses question in the haiku/renga tradition…two of them! Just like the number of authors. 😉
Your thoughts on using it to complete the renga (leaving it at three lines and intentionally “unfinished” i.e. imperfect?) I will defer to you and the whippoorwill’s fancy. 😉
Ideas for creating a new renga?
I so enjoy writing with you, Ms. de QuoinMonkey.
Many thanks and warm thoughts.
Walljasper
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Note: I had an idea for a haiku, but then it occurred to me that I had written something along these lines before. (If I can help it, I don’t want to repeat myself). And so I checked. Sure enough, I found the older haiku, dated 5/21/09. But what I wanted to say on the subject was new. (Although I kept the first line). I’ll shuttup now.
She said “I need space”.
Thirty years on, I wonder:
“Ya got enough yet?”
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L…O…L!
It’s very good to hear your voice and observation. If it’s ok with you, may I add two lines to complete a tanka?
She said “I need space”.
Thirty years on, I wonder:
“Ya got enough yet?”
all those years before the mast,
and still we sail together.
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our waves so silvered,
our time and time so knotted,
our enduring weave.
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that is…
our waves so silvered,
our time and tides so knotted,
our enduring weave.
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our waves so silvered,
out time and tides so knotted,
our enduring eave.
will we last until golden?
the web we wove has tightened.
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oops, sorry, left the “w” out of weave
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again, I am mistaken, with a typo in “our.” Can surely tell it’s Friday p.m. & I’m tired. Apologize profusely!
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No worries – how nice to renga with you, oliverowl.
continuing…
————————-
our waves so silvered,
out time and tides so knotted,
our enduring weave.
will we last until golden?
the web we wove has tightened.
what of our measure?
the count of threads and knots
knows not our tensions.
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what of our measure?
the count of threads and knots
knows not our tensions.
refuse to let tension be
the warp and weft of our lives
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our waves so silvered,
out time and tides so knotted,
our enduring weave.
will we last until golden?
the web we wove has tightened.
what of our measure?
the count of threads and knots
knows not our tensions.
refuse to let tension be
the warp and weft of our lives
No sound can be heard
un-tensioned strings have no voice
how will love be sung?
dreams are born in mulberry,
spun to strong silken strands.
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I’m catching up here, am a little behind. What a lovely renga walljasper and oliverowl have going. I love the collaborative nature of renga.
Robert Morse, I often think I’m starting to repeat myself on the haiku after a few years of doing it. Sometimes I have to go back, too, and check.
walljasper, I need to revisit your last comment on Gates Open & Close. Am on the fly right now but will come back to it and carefully read.
For now, ending with a haiku.
________
sizzling July 4th
basking near the whirring fan
paws of a black cat
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WJ,
I like your last verse, and I think it completes the poem!
How do you feel about it? Thanks for letting me be a part of the process…really enjoyed it!
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sizzling July 4th
basking near the whirring fan
paws of a black cat
stretching, yawning, purring, yes
which nap are you taking now?
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A note of thanks and appreciation of Ms. Quoin de Monkey, Robert and oliverowl – I am grateful to hear your words and be welcomed to write with you.
——————————–
oliverowl, yes I agree and am glad you feel the words apropos to a closing observationfor the renga.
What a joy to write with you…let’s write together again!
——————————–
Ah, Ms. Quoin de Monkey. I wrote earlier – perhaps in too much detail – about the delight of your phrase “whippooorwill’s fancy” from our “gates open and close” renga; asking your permission to craft a new opening haiku from our shared lines of observations.
if it pleases you, perhaps it is the beginning step in another journey of linked elegance.
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walljasper, I think I’m going to go with starting a new renga from this haiku that you posed above. The idea comes from the previous renga but I feel like a fresh start. Here we go.
________________
whipporrwill’s fancy
recalling an ancient song
our mother’s soft voice.
Echoes across mountaintops,
reduced to glacial whispers.
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Nice tanka, oliverowl. Continuing renga for any who want to join in:
________________
sizzling July 4th
basking near the whirring fan
paws of a black cat
stretching, yawning, purring, yes
which nap are you taking now?
life’s simple pleasures
there is so much we can learn
from Animal Dreams
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life’s simple pleasures
there is so much we can learn
from Animal Dreams
but who interprets these dreams?
I am, sadly, ignorant
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sizzling July 4th
basking near the whirring fan
paws of a black cat
stretching, yawning, purring, yes
which nap are you taking now
life’s simple pleasures
there is so much we can learn
from Animal Dreams
but who interprets these dreams?
I am, sadly, ignorant
divine messengers
bound to a pure covenant
Franciscan silence.
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sizzling July 4th
basking near the whirring fan
paws of a black cat
stretching, yawning, purring, yes
which nap are you taking now?
there is so much we can learn
from Animal Dreams
but who interprets these dreams?
I am, sadly, ignorant
divine messengers
bound to a pure covenant
Franciscan silence
enlightenment comes with grace
and points the way to heaven.
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late July
each calla lily cups
the bride’s joyful tears
———-
Hello dear redRaviners!
Sorry for the long hiatus from this wonderful place! I’ve been enjoying my summer after so long! I did summer school, of course, but am glad that I could still have the rest of the summer to be extra lazy and unproductive! hehe. 😛 Well, not completely unproductive. I’m still writing poetry, reading, listening to music, and self-training for 5k runs for September and October! One of these days I will be able to do a marathon! 🙂 This fall I’m starting nursing school, so I’m really excited about that!
Miss you, QM and Yb and everyone on here!
Hope to be back more often!
Blessings,
Lotus
P.S. Yb, if you are reading this, I’m so excited about your Etsy store! 🙂
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A~Lotus, you’re back! I’ve missed you. Glad you are enjoying your Summer. You are training for 5-k runs? Nice! And starting nursing school in the Fall. That rocks. You are a hard worker. Really great to hear from you. Stay cool. Tanka.
_____________
late July
each calla lily cups
the bride’s joyful tears
rivers run through restless hearts
a joyful dance to the sea
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Hey, hey, QM! I’ve missed you too! Glad to be back. I hope to be back more often and regularly as I used to. Sometimes it’s difficult for me to keep track of so many writing and poetry places I’ve hovered around you know. 😉 How are things on your end? Hope your summer has been cool and lovely. 🙂
—————————-
late July
each calla lily cups
the bride’s joyful tears
rivers run through restless hearts
a joyful dance to the sea
moonlight tango
a swirl of champagne kisses
from parents and friends
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at the sports bar
the Pyrenees, misty
behind this beer mug
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Tweets, they must be in
The Public Domain. Or else
Birds could sue big time.
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Words in the attic
I find them, dust them off and
Place them on this page.
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raindrops & blue sky
morning after my birthday
feeling full of light
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lotus, it is hard to keep track of a lot of different sites. Sometimes I find I just have to simplify. You’ve been incredibly active with your poetry and have quite a following. It’s admirable. My Summer is going great. I turned another year older this week and went on a walking tour of F. Scott Fitzgerald’s old haunts in St. Paul, Minnesota last night. Met up with my Poetry Group and some friends. Was really fun. I feel full of life today. I’m so glad you are back. I’m going to try to be more regular here, too. I’ve done the BlackBerry 365 photo practice this year and that’s been my day to day practice. It takes a lot of time! Hey, didn’t you say you had gotten a BlackBerry? You asked about the photo practice. Are you going to do it?
____________________
late July
each calla lily cups
the bride’s joyful tears
rivers run through restless hearts
a joyful dance to the sea
moonlight tango
a swirl of champagne kisses
from parents and friends
yin and yang, shadow and sun
creating a perfect whole
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Robert Morse, if I may:
_____________
Words in the attic
I find them, dust them off and
Place them on this page.
Each letter shakes off the past,
runs hard with the likes of wolves.
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[…] -related to post: haiku 2 (one-a-day) […]
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Hi QM (and all redRaviners!)!
It’s good to hear that you’re having a pretty good summer. Happy belated birthday! Yes, I am blessed with the many readers who have followed me on Twitter reading my poetry. I didn’t think anyone out there would even bother reading it! I just write for myself really. However, I find it wonderful to keep on sharing and collaborating poetry and art with fellow poets, writers and artists! Yes, I am definitely going to try my hand on the Blackberry 365 photo practice when the new year comes. I can’t wait! First, I probably need to set up a Flickr account (sure I have one, but I can’t remember it as I’ve never used it)… Have a good day!
———————————————————–
late July
each calla lily cups
the bride’s joyful tears
rivers run through restless hearts
a joyful dance to the sea
moonlight tango
a swirl of champagne kisses
from parents and friends
yin and yang, shadow and sun
creating a perfect whole
summer moon–
full of questions, howls, and faces
of lone (wo)men
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late July
each calla lily cups
the bride’s joyful tears
rivers run through restless hearts
a joyful dance to the sea
moonlight tango
a swirl of champagne kisses
from parents and friends
yin and yang, shadow and sun
creating a perfect whole
summer moon–
full of questions, howls, and faces
of lone (wo)men
where wine-stained lips
speak of everlasting bliss
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One more attic word
Under thick dust. It’s…’groovy’.
Let’s put that one back.
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Remember Vanna?
“Always learn your alphabet”,
she told detractors. 😉
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Remember Vanna?
“Always learn your alphabet”,
she told detractors
they were full of jealousy
they did not have her wardrobe
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ha, ha. oliverowl that’s a great tanka completion!
Lotus, yes, get that Flickr account set up, then friend me. Will have to follow your BlackBerry 365 next year. I’m finding it fun but a challenge. I’m already thinking of what I want my next year’s daily practice to be. It’s going to involve photography as well. And probably text or poetry. But maybe with my Canon.
One thing I love about you, A~Lotus, is that you are such a positive person. Always uplifting to hear from you.
_____________
late July
each calla lily cups
the bride’s joyful tears
rivers run through restless hearts
a joyful dance to the sea
moonlight tango
a swirl of champagne kisses
from parents and friends
yin and yang, shadow and sun
creating a perfect whole
summer moon–
full of questions, howls, and faces
of lone (wo)men
where wine-stained lips
speak of everlasting bliss
morning light brings rain
splattering on tabletops,
thick humidity
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Yep, I will let you know about my Flickr account, most definitely! Hey, here’s an idea: Why don’t we do a BB 365 Collaboration? We each do our own 365 photos and manipulate them however we want to, be it adding text/poetry, collages or any other mixed media. However, we will be responding to each other’s photos. It’s a triple challenge:
A) The first individual will take the first photo of the New Year.
B) The second individual will take a photo in response to the first individual.
C) Both individuals can be as creative as they want in their own separate photos.
D) By the end of the year, each individual will have their own 365 batch.
The reason why I’m saying it’s a triple challenge is because it involves not only photography but also our own writing practices as well as our own creativity. I think all forms of art are not only an individual experience but also a collaborative experience. It took me nearly a year to understand that and EVEN PRACTICE it. So, what do you say? Shall we do it together? We’ll have our own separate Flickr accounts, etc. I’m planning to use my Livejournal for the poetry or any other writing I happen to include with each photo for the challenge.
It is too uplifting when I come by here on redRavine. You and yb are amazing women. I never cease to be amazed at such depth and creativity you both have. You both breathe it every day! 🙂
Lovely addition to the renga, QM! 🙂 I love the sound of “splattering on tabletops.”
_____________
late July
each calla lily cups
the bride’s joyful tears
rivers run through restless hearts
a joyful dance to the sea
moonlight tango
a swirl of champagne kisses
from parents and friends
yin and yang, shadow and sun
creating a perfect whole
summer moon–
full of questions, howls, and faces
of lone (wo)men
where wine-stained lips
speak of everlasting bliss
morning light brings rain
splattering on tabletops,
thick humidity…
here I sit reading Stevens
and conversing with the fly
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Hey QM,
I’m totally open for this 365 BB Collab. We can have the same themes, colors, ideas/topics, etc. for a particular day. That’s how we can “respond” to each other’s works. Let me know if you’re interested! Either way, I’m going to try my hand at the 365 BB Challenge. I can’t wait!
———————————————————
late July
each calla lily cups
the bride’s joyful tears
rivers run through restless hearts
a joyful dance to the sea
moonlight tango
a swirl of champagne kisses
from parents and friends
yin and yang, shadow and sun
creating a perfect whole
summer moon–
full of questions, howls, and faces
of lone (wo)men
where wine-stained lips
speak of everlasting bliss
morning light brings rain
splattering on tabletops,
thick humidity…
here I sit reading Stevens
and conversing with the fly
across the seedless watermelon
drawing figure-eights
that darn fly!
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My Flickr account for 2011!
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A~Lotus, I’m on vacation up in Ely, Minnesota right now. But, at first glance, I like the idea of collaborating on a BlackBerry 365 year. I definitely want to do another kind of photo practice next year. It stretches me. So let me think about it a little more and read over your proposal again when I get back into town. I like your enthusiasm! Will check out your Flickr account.
———————————————————
late July
each calla lily cups
the bride’s joyful tears
rivers run through restless hearts
a joyful dance to the sea
moonlight tango
a swirl of champagne kisses
from parents and friends
yin and yang, shadow and sun
creating a perfect whole
summer moon–
full of questions, howls, and faces
of lone (wo)men
where wine-stained lips
speak of everlasting bliss
morning light brings rain
splattering on tabletops,
thick humidity…
here I sit reading Stevens
and conversing with the fly
across the seedless watermelon
drawing figure-eights
that darn fly!
black bears munching on red fruit
in the pouring Ely rain
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QM, have fun with your vacation! When you get back, roll over the idea of the collaboration some more. The thing is I just want us to have a lot of flexibility and fun with it! I’m all for ideas and suggestion. This collaboration is like looking at one thing with two different perspectives. I agree with the “stretching” part. This project will challenge me greatly because I can fully practice haiga, make use of my BB and my camera if need be, and throw in some mixed media with it.
Both you and yb have inspired me with photography! I want to make it a living, breathing habit like a haiku!
———————————————————
late July
each calla lily cups
the bride’s joyful tears
rivers run through restless hearts
a joyful dance to the sea
moonlight tango
a swirl of champagne kisses
from parents and friends
yin and yang, shadow and sun
creating a perfect whole
summer moon–
full of questions, howls, and faces
of lone (wo)men
where wine-stained lips
speak of everlasting bliss
morning light brings rain
splattering on tabletops,
thick humidity…
here I sit reading Stevens
and conversing with the fly
across the seedless watermelon
drawing figure-eights
that darn fly!
black bears munching on red fruit
in the pouring Ely rain
the sound of water
dripping
from the deer’s mouth
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A seashell in the grass;
where
did the ocean go?
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Thanks, Lotus. I’ll keep that in mind. I know flexibility would be especially important to me. Now that I have done this photo practice for half a year, I know the work it takes to keep it up. So I want to make sure I can commit and stick to it for another year. It’s more work than it looks at first glance. But well worth it. A collaboration does sound fun. Something a bit more spontaneous than this year’s BlackBerry 365 for me. This year’s 2010 photos have turned out to be almost documentary in nature for me, moments in my life, little snippets that I sometimes research when I post the photos. If I did it another year, I’d want it to be more abstract for me, stretching me in new directions. So I’ll think about it a little more. Also, are you talking about mixing cameras with the 2011 practice? Or sticking to using the BlackBerry? I wasn’t sure when you mentioned using other cameras.
_______________
late July
each calla lily cups
the bride’s joyful tears
rivers run through restless hearts
a joyful dance to the sea
moonlight tango
a swirl of champagne kisses
from parents and friends
yin and yang, shadow and sun
creating a perfect whole
summer moon–
full of questions, howls, and faces
of lone (wo)men
where wine-stained lips
speak of everlasting bliss
morning light brings rain
splattering on tabletops,
thick humidity…
here I sit reading Stevens
and conversing with the fly
across the seedless watermelon
drawing figure-eights
that darn fly!
black bears munching on red fruit
in the pouring Ely rain
the sound of water
dripping
from the deer’s mouth,
sun-bleached bones of an old moose
languish on distant prairies
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Teresa, thanks for stopping by. Tanka to your haiku:
________________
A seashell in the grass;
where
did the ocean go?
unbound by human limits,
she has washed back out to sea
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Clem Returns
———————-
Yippie yi ki yay
Git along little doggies,
mah brand is red-hot.
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Hey QM,
We are sticking to the BB. I was just saying that if we want to, we can incorporate other media including photos taken by digital cameras (or Polaroids, etc.) as a creative pursuit. Sorry if it sounded confusing! Knowing me, I highly doubt that I would be able to do that because of my busy time in school and work, but I think I’ll be sticking to just using the BB and writing. And yes, I do know the feeling to sticking to a project and work at it! It was difficult renewing my second year of writing haiku and other Japanese form poetry and keeping at it every day! One thing I was thinking of is maybe we could dedicate 1-2 days of the collaboration for each week. The other days of the week we can do our own thing. I think this would be a good way to try out a BB Collaboration without it being overwhelming! I think it’s more reasonable and doable that way, don’t you? Let me know. 8)
I like where the renga is going! 🙂 Wonderful addition, QM!
——————————————
late July
each calla lily cups
the bride’s joyful tears
rivers run through restless hearts
a joyful dance to the sea
moonlight tango
a swirl of champagne kisses
from parents and friends
yin and yang, shadow and sun
creating a perfect whole
summer moon–
full of questions, howls, and faces
of lone (wo)men
where wine-stained lips
speak of everlasting bliss
morning light brings rain
splattering on tabletops,
thick humidity…
here I sit reading Stevens
and conversing with the fly
across the seedless watermelon
drawing figure-eights
that darn fly!
black bears munching on red fruit
in the pouring Ely rain
the sound of water
dripping
from the deer’s mouth,
sun-bleached bones of an old moose
languish on distant prairies
rolling over
the prairie grass
cotton clouds
LikeLike
Early morning haiku
black flowers speak
to you, the summering sky.
LikeLike
Clem Returns
———————-
Yippie yi ki yay
Git along little doggies,
mah brand is red-hot
Clem’s recov’ry ain’t so good,
Busy scaring Chihuahuas.
LikeLike
LOL, Robert. Good to hear your clever words….hope life finds you well and content.
Here’s link for you, Mister Stripey Pants…and Clem.
LikeLike
Where have all the cowboys gone
chasing the cat’s meow
come back, you forgot something here.
I loved this video. Makes me laugh everytime I think about it. Men, rounding up their feminine side…very sweet and studly.
LikeLike
walljasper, what a great video! Liz’s mom is visiting and she was just telling Liz about it yesterday. So great! Thanks for posting it for Mr. Stripeypants!
teresa, enjoying your haiku. So glad you have joined us here!
A~Lotus, will add another comment about my response to the BlackBerry practice! I think I’m in!
______________
dripping lantana
summer rain in the morning
takes my breath away
LikeLike
A~Lotus, I think this sold me:
“One thing I was thinking of is maybe we could dedicate 1-2 days of the collaboration for each week. The other days of the week we can do our own thing.”
I like the idea of 2 days a week of collaboration on the BlackBerry 365. And the other days, we’d do our own thing. That also frees me up to think about what I want the other days of my photo practice to be.
So YES, let’s do the collaboration next year. Dedicating two days a week to responding to each other’s work. The other days, we are free to do our own thing.
Let’s work out the rest of the details offline, by email. We have a little time until it starts. I like it. I think it’s going to be fun.
Also, I know you have kept up your practice for over a year as well. And know what that’s like. I sure wasn’t doubting your ability to show up! Mainly, I wanted to make sure I could commit to it myself and keep my word. It sounds fun to bounce off of each other’s work next year. I want to push my images a bit more.
__________________
late July
each calla lily cups
the bride’s joyful tears
rivers run through restless hearts
a joyful dance to the sea
moonlight tango
a swirl of champagne kisses
from parents and friends
yin and yang, shadow and sun
creating a perfect whole
summer moon–
full of questions, howls, and faces
of lone (wo)men
where wine-stained lips
speak of everlasting bliss
morning light brings rain
splattering on tabletops,
thick humidity…
here I sit reading Stevens
and conversing with the fly
across the seedless watermelon
drawing figure-eights
that darn fly!
black bears munching on red fruit
in the pouring Ely rain
the sound of water
dripping
from the deer’s mouth,
sun-bleached bones of an old moose
languish on distant prairies
rolling over
the prairie grass
cotton clouds
billow into lost faces,
darken like bearded thunder
LikeLike
Time reveals our hearts,
a small clutch, my rare letters,
mother’s momento,
gathered by a frail ribbon
as memories, mortal joys.
LikeLike
Ach, there are days when I could use version control…in thoughts, deeds and at least the written word. 😉
———————————-
time reveals treasures,
a small clutch, my rare letters,
mother’s momento,
gathered by a frail ribbon
like memories, mortal joys.
LikeLike
@walljasper: I actually like both versions, though I think your first version is the much stronger version. If you think about it, unveiling someone’s heart is like opening up time, seeing memories of what that person cherishes, including things “as memories.”
———————————————
Time reveals our hearts,
a small clutch, my rare letters,
mother’s momento,
gathered by a frail ribbon
as memories, mortal joys.
old china teacup–
my grandmother still holds
and sips the same green tea
and hears the same stories
many generations later
LikeLike
QM: That’s wonderful! I was also thinking about my own commitment! One of the guilty sins I have is that I always start up on so many projects but only finish a few, particularly when it comes to my writing and organizing my writing (or mundane things like cleaning my closet and getting rid of school junk…)! I’m glad you think that 2 days a week is a reasonable target because I’m always busy with work and school. Poetry is my reason for sanity! I’m up to a challenge to stretch out my poetry just as you’re doing with photography and writing. Of course, we can iron out the details via email, etc. I’m so excited! 8)
__________________
late July
each calla lily cups
the bride’s joyful tears
rivers run through restless hearts
a joyful dance to the sea
moonlight tango
a swirl of champagne kisses
from parents and friends
yin and yang, shadow and sun
creating a perfect whole
summer moon–
full of questions, howls, and faces
of lone (wo)men
where wine-stained lips
speak of everlasting bliss
morning light brings rain
splattering on tabletops,
thick humidity…
here I sit reading Stevens
and conversing with the fly
across the seedless watermelon
drawing figure-eights
that darn fly!
black bears munching on red fruit
in the pouring Ely rain
the sound of water
dripping
from the deer’s mouth,
sun-bleached bones of an old moose
languish on distant prairies
rolling over
the prairie grass
cotton clouds
billow into lost faces,
darken like bearded thunder
the hawk’s shadow…
still above the mouse
dining in the grass
LikeLike
Ah, I like your additions to the renga, Ms de A~Lotus. Also, thanks for the advice on versions – I agree. 😉
—————————-
time reveals our hearts
a small clutch of rare letters
mother’s momentos
gathered with a frail ribbon
our mortal joys and sorrows
old china teacup–
my grandmother still holds
and sips the same green tea
and hears the same stories
many generations later
LikeLike
—————————-
time reveals our hearts
a small clutch of rare letters
mother’s momentos
gathered with a frail ribbon
our mortal joys and sorrows
old china teacup–
my grandmother still holds
and sips the same green tea
and hears the same stories
many generations later
soft waters carve deep
perfect sculptor of hard stone
etches our face lines
LikeLike
—————————-
time reveals our hearts
a small clutch of rare letters
mother’s momentos
gathered with a frail ribbon
our mortal joys and sorrows
old china teacup–
my grandmother still holds
and sips the same green tea
and hears the same stories
many generations later
soft waters carve deep
perfect sculptor of hard stone
mere tears etch face lines
LikeLike
time reveals our hearts
a small clutch of rare letters
mother’s momentos
gathered with a frail ribbon
our mortal joys and sorrows
old china teacup–
my grandmother still holds
and sips the same green tea
and hears the same stories
many generations later
soft waters carve deep
hard stone yields to its patience
a gentle chisel
droplets etch lines in faces
we are such reckless sculptors
LikeLike
time reveals our hearts
a small clutch of rare letters
mother’s momentos
gathered with a frail ribbon
our mortal joys and sorrows
old china teacup–
my grandmother still holds
and sips the same green tea
and hears the same stories
many generations later
soft waters carve deep
hard stone yields to its patience
a gentle chisel
droplets etch lines in faces
we are such reckless sculptors
atop the statue of the Virgin Mary
a crown
of doves cooing,
their feathers stir
the morning rays among the shadows
LikeLike
Lotus, beautiful poetry. Did you write it in one sitting. I love these lines:
soft waters carve deep
hard stone yields to its patience
a gentle chisel
droplets etch lines in faces
we are such reckless sculptors
Thank you for sharing it with us on red Ravine.
LikeLike
Actually, it is @walljasper that wrote it. I like how the renga is going so far. 8)
————————————————
time reveals our hearts
a small clutch of rare letters
mother’s momentos
gathered with a frail ribbon
our mortal joys and sorrows
old china teacup–
my grandmother still holds
and sips the same green tea
and hears the same stories
many generations later
soft waters carve deep
hard stone yields to its patience
a gentle chisel
droplets etch lines in faces
we are such reckless sculptors
atop the statue of the Virgin Mary
a crown
of doves cooing,
their feathers stir
the morning rays among the shadows
pressed firmly
into my dreams
your love
the scent of
vanilla and tiger lilies
LikeLike
late July
each calla lily cups
the bride’s joyful tears
rivers run through restless hearts
a joyful dance to the sea
moonlight tango
a swirl of champagne kisses
from parents and friends
yin and yang, shadow and sun
creating a perfect whole
summer moon–
full of questions, howls, and faces
of lone (wo)men
where wine-stained lips
speak of everlasting bliss
morning light brings rain
splattering on tabletops,
thick humidity…
here I sit reading Stevens
and conversing with the fly
across the seedless watermelon
drawing figure-eights
that darn fly!
black bears munching on red fruit
in the pouring Ely rain
the sound of water
dripping
from the deer’s mouth,
sun-bleached bones of an old moose
languish on distant prairies
rolling over
the prairie grass
cotton clouds
billow into lost faces,
darken like bearded thunder
the hawk’s shadow…
still above the mouse
dining in the grass
until a sudden squawk from the hawk
by the clap of thunder
LikeLike
Ah, my apologies, Walljasper. Lost my bearings. Beautiful poetry. (Thanks, Lotus.)
————————————————
time reveals our hearts
a small clutch of rare letters
mother’s momentos
gathered with a frail ribbon
our mortal joys and sorrows
old china teacup–
my grandmother still holds
and sips the same green tea
and hears the same stories
many generations later
soft waters carve deep
hard stone yields to its patience
a gentle chisel
droplets etch lines in faces
we are such reckless sculptors
atop the statue of the Virgin Mary
a crown
of doves cooing,
their feathers stir
the morning rays among the shadows
pressed firmly
into my dreams
your love
the scent of
vanilla and tiger lilies
700 miles
distance ranging North to South
sprinkled between lines
LikeLike
late July
each calla lily cups
the bride’s joyful tears
rivers run through restless hearts
a joyful dance to the sea
moonlight tango
a swirl of champagne kisses
from parents and friends
yin and yang, shadow and sun
creating a perfect whole
summer moon–
full of questions, howls, and faces
of lone (wo)men
where wine-stained lips
speak of everlasting bliss
morning light brings rain
splattering on tabletops,
thick humidity…
here I sit reading Stevens
and conversing with the fly
across the seedless watermelon
drawing figure-eights
that darn fly!
black bears munching on red fruit
in the pouring Ely rain
the sound of water
dripping
from the deer’s mouth,
sun-bleached bones of an old moose
languish on distant prairies
rolling over
the prairie grass
cotton clouds
billow into lost faces,
darken like bearded thunder
the hawk’s shadow…
still above the mouse
dining in the grass
until a sudden squawk from the hawk
by the clap of thunder
waxing and waning,
August claims the shifting rays
of vanishing light
LikeLike
[…] -related to post: haiku 2 (one-a-day) […]
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Waking up reveals shadows
one tree flames the dawn
the others, still black still sleeping.
LikeLike
Hi Lotus – am enjoying this renga with you…..continuing.
——————————
time reveals our hearts
a small clutch of rare letters
mother’s momentos
gathered with a frail ribbon
our mortal joys and sorrows
old china teacup–
my grandmother still holds
and sips the same green tea
and hears the same stories
many generations later
soft waters carve deep
hard stone yields to its patience
a gentle chisel
droplets etch lines in faces
we are such reckless sculptors
atop the statue of the Virgin Mary
a crown
of doves cooing,
their feathers stir
the morning rays among the shadows
pressed firmly
into my dreams
your love
the scent of
vanilla and tiger lilies
700 miles
distance ranging North to South
sprinkled between lines
our measurements and movements
come quickly to an old end.
LikeLike
Hi Lotus – am enjoying this renga with you…..continuing.
——————————
time reveals our hearts
a small clutch of rare letters
mother’s momentos
gathered with a frail ribbon
our mortal joys and sorrows
old china teacup–
my grandmother still holds
and sips the same green tea
and hears the same stories
many generations later
soft waters carve deep
hard stone yields to its patience
a gentle chisel
droplets etch lines in faces
we are such reckless sculptors
atop the statue of the Virgin Mary
a crown
of doves cooing,
their feathers stir
the morning rays among the shadows
pressed firmly
into my dreams
your love
the scent of
vanilla and tiger lilies
700 miles
distance ranging North to South
sprinkled between lines
our measurements and movements
come quickly to olden ends.
LikeLike
The eye of the heart
listens to the rosebud’s birth
red morning whispers
LikeLike
@Walljasper: I too am enjoying this renga collaboration. 🙂 It’s turning out beautifully.
———————————————–
time reveals our hearts
a small clutch of rare letters
mother’s momentos
gathered with a frail ribbon
our mortal joys and sorrows
old china teacup–
my grandmother still holds
and sips the same green tea
and hears the same stories
many generations later
soft waters carve deep
hard stone yields to its patience
a gentle chisel
droplets etch lines in faces
we are such reckless sculptors
atop the statue of the Virgin Mary
a crown
of doves cooing,
their feathers stir
the morning rays among the shadows
pressed firmly
into my dreams
your love
the scent of
vanilla and tiger lilies
700 miles
distance ranging North to South
sprinkled between lines
our measurements and movements
come quickly to olden ends.
Monday morning
we never forget the reason
we dream
LikeLike
late July
each calla lily cups
the bride’s joyful tears
rivers run through restless hearts
a joyful dance to the sea
moonlight tango
a swirl of champagne kisses
from parents and friends
yin and yang, shadow and sun
creating a perfect whole
summer moon–
full of questions, howls, and faces
of lone (wo)men
where wine-stained lips
speak of everlasting bliss
morning light brings rain
splattering on tabletops,
thick humidity…
here I sit reading Stevens
and conversing with the fly
across the seedless watermelon
drawing figure-eights
that darn fly!
black bears munching on red fruit
in the pouring Ely rain
the sound of water
dripping
from the deer’s mouth,
sun-bleached bones of an old moose
languish on distant prairies
rolling over
the prairie grass
cotton clouds
billow into lost faces,
darken like bearded thunder
the hawk’s shadow…
still above the mouse
dining in the grass
until a sudden squawk from the hawk
by the clap of thunder
waxing and waning,
August claims the shifting rays
of vanishing light…
the moon turns to face
the auburn trees in the churchyard
LikeLike
Coffee meditation:
The midnight sun crosses
black thought deserts
life begins soon
LikeLike
haiku to welcome my grandson into our world on 9/28/2010:
the man in the moon
tugs at tides, shines on harvest,
brings forth baby’s birth
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@oliverowl: Congratulations! A definite joy to the world and to your family. 🙂 Many blessings to all of you!
——————————————-
summer’s end
the prickly feel
of berry-studded bushes and aloe
LikeLike
Lotus,
I’m going to add to your haiku, the end of summer is speaking to me right now as I woke up to clouds, rain and needing to wear a jacket.
summer’s end
the prickly feel
of berry-studded bushes and aloe
each year the autumn wind blows
endings are beginnings too
LikeLike
Me, too. Fall is in the air. Renga.
____________
summer’s end
the prickly feel
of berry-studded bushes and aloe
each year the autumn wind blows
endings are beginnings too
on the street corner
tiny feet, big rain jackets
splash high toward the sun
LikeLike
on the street corner
tiny feet, big rain jackets
splash high toward the sun
cloud pillows float by tempting
Helios, to let the horses sleep
LikeLike
Continuing renga with teresa & Lotus.
___________________
summer’s end
the prickly feel
of berry-studded bushes and aloe
each year the autumn wind blows
endings are beginnings too
on the street corner
tiny feet, big rain jackets
splash high toward the sun
cloud pillows float by tempting
Helios, to let the horses sleep
finches on dogwood
dart back and forth to feeders
sing Summer’s lament
LikeLike
Continuing renga:
summer’s end
the prickly feel
of berry-studded bushes and aloe
each year the autumn wind blows
endings are beginnings too
on the street corner
tiny feet, big rain jackets
splash high toward the sun
cloud pillows float by tempting
Helios, to let the horses sleep
finches on dogwood
dart back and forth to feeders
sing Summer’s lament
between light and shadow notes
a bridge illumines the air
LikeLike
summer’s end
the prickly feel
of berry-studded bushes and aloe
each year the autumn wind blows
endings are beginnings too
on the street corner
tiny feet, big rain jackets
splash high toward the sun
cloud pillows float by tempting
Helios, to let the horses sleep
finches on dogwood
dart back and forth to feeders
sing Summer’s lament
between light and shadow notes
a bridge illumines the air
a sudden break
from the water
a carp kisses
my reflection
as I lean over the bridge
LikeLike
a sudden break
in the water
a carp kisses
my reflection
as I lean over the bridge
(Revision: I think “in” is my intended meaning than “from.”)
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[…] ybonesy! ybonesy takes off her mask to unveil her Etsy store, featuring these new items: Daily Haiku Post Yours Here […]
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Continuing renga with QuionMonkey:
summer’s end
the prickly feel
of berry-studded bushes and aloe
each year the autumn wind blows
endings are beginnings too
on the street corner
tiny feet, big rain jackets
splash high toward the sun
cloud pillows float by tempting
Helios, to let the horses sleep
finches on dogwood
dart back and forth to feeders
sing Summer’s lament
between light and shadow notes
a bridge illumines the air
a sudden break
in the water
a carp kisses
my reflection
as I lean over the bridge
the shimmering face
a mosiac illusion
quivers with a wave
LikeLike
summer’s end
the prickly feel
of berry-studded bushes and aloe
each year the autumn wind blows
endings are beginnings too
on the street corner
tiny feet, big rain jackets
splash high toward the sun
cloud pillows float by tempting
Helios, to let the horses sleep
finches on dogwood
dart back and forth to feeders
sing Summer’s lament
between light and shadow notes
a bridge illumines the air
a sudden break
in the water
a carp kisses
my reflection
as I lean over the bridge
the shimmering face
a mosaic illusion
quivers with a wave
A kiss followed by a wave?
Just one more hello/goodbye.
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I like your description of the reflection from the bridge, Robert.
continuing the renga…
—————-
summer’s end
the prickly feel
of berry-studded bushes and aloe
each year the autumn wind blows
endings are beginnings too
on the street corner
tiny feet, big rain jackets
splash high toward the sun
cloud pillows float by tempting
Helios, to let the horses sleep
finches on dogwood
dart back and forth to feeders
sing Summer’s lament
between light and shadow notes
a bridge illumines the air
a sudden break
in the water
a carp kisses
my reflection
as I lean over the bridge
the shimmering face
a mosaic illusion
quivers with a wave
A kiss followed by a wave?
Just one more hello/goodbye.
Shorter days, longing shadows
rustles of reminiscence
the mandala spins
LikeLike
Ach, sorry – I misread the renga thread and must offer full props to Teresa. Very nice indeed and well-matched to Robert’s addition of hello/goodbye. What a pleasing renga…
————-
summer’s end
the prickly feel
of berry-studded bushes and aloe
each year the autumn wind blows
endings are beginnings too
on the street corner
tiny feet, big rain jackets
splash high toward the sun
cloud pillows float by tempting
Helios, to let the horses sleep
finches on dogwood
dart back and forth to feeders
sing Summer’s lament
between light and shadow notes
a bridge illumines the air
a sudden break
in the water
a carp kisses
my reflection
as I lean over the bridge
the shimmering face
a mosaic illusion
quivers with a wave
A kiss followed by a wave?
Just one more hello/goodbye.
Shorter days, longing shadows
rustles of reminiscence
the mandala spins
LikeLike
Beautiful renga, All. Thank you for visiting.
————-
summer’s end
the prickly feel
of berry-studded bushes and aloe
each year the autumn wind blows
endings are beginnings too
on the street corner
tiny feet, big rain jackets
splash high toward the sun
cloud pillows float by tempting
Helios, to let the horses sleep
finches on dogwood
dart back and forth to feeders
sing Summer’s lament
between light and shadow notes
a bridge illumines the air
a sudden break
in the water
a carp kisses
my reflection
as I lean over the bridge
the shimmering face
a mosaic illusion
quivers with a wave
A kiss followed by a wave?
Just one more hello/goodbye.
Shorter days, longing shadows
rustles of reminiscence
the mandala spins —
whirling dervish breaks the spell
silence sits at the center.
LikeLike
The renga seems finished. Beautiful. I’ve never done one of these before. I really enjoyed seeing how some of the words took on different meanings, such as “wave” and “bridge”. To see how each person’s mind lept to something my own mind would not have imagined.
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@teresa williams: I too agree. It sounds finished and beautifully collaborated, too, but it doesn’t mean we have to finish there unless we all want to continue. 😉 If memory serves me well, I think this is the only renga that we have MORE than 3 people contributing! Amazing! From our past renga, there were on average 2 people to one renga, so getting everyone to play a part, that in itself is a thrill! 8)
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Lotus, I was thinking the same thing. The above is one of the few renga where we have more than 3 people. It’s really fun. We don’t have to end it there if we don’t wish to. Whatever the feeling is, go with the flow. I’m okay either way. Endings and beginnings, they can sometimes be the same. Teresa, I’m so glad you enjoyed the renga. For me, they are some of the most fun writings on red Ravine. And, yes, it could be finished. Or could be opened up again. These things seem to have a life of their own.
_________
rain barrel near full
autumn chill settles the house
warms the beating heart
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[…] -related to post: haiku 2 (one-a-day) […]
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our mother’s embrace,
autumn beckons us homeward,
shadowed reflections.
LikeLike
continuing Ms. de QuoinMonkey’s haiku
—————-
rain barrel near full
autumn chill settles the house
warms the beating heart
autumn beckons us homeward
we reflect in long shadows.
LikeLike
walljasper, I missed you. Glad you are back. continuing:
—————-
rain barrel near full
autumn chill settles the house
warms the beating heart
autumn beckons us homeward
we reflect in long shadows.
yellow ash, green grass
dark mornings meant to confuse
break the standing light
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rain barrel near full
autumn chill settles the house
warms the beating heart
autumn beckons us homeward
we reflect in long shadows.
yellow ash, green grass
dark mornings meant to confuse
break the standing light
a chorus of chirping birds
make farewells and welcome fall.
LikeLike
Doctor please prescribe
A love potion for me. A
Generic will do.
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Approaching sixty,
‘hunting hot gerontophiles
is dream therapy.
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Approaching sixty,
‘hunting hot gerontophiles
is dream therapy.
Someday I’ll lay the bike down,
weary of blue-pill kickstands.
LikeLike
continuing with Ms. de QuoinMonkey….
———————————-
rain barrel near full
autumn chill settles the house
warms the beating heart
autumn beckons us homeward
we reflect in long shadows.
yellow ash, green grass
dark mornings meant to confuse
break the standing light
a chorus of chirping birds
make nodding farewells and take wing.
LikeLike
I’m in Mexico right now, just finished my lunch of tamales:
Tamales and sun
feed every kind of hunger
the soul loves yellow
LikeLike
Teresa, sounds like heaven. Have a wonderful time. Look forward to more haiku from Mexico. My Writing Group just wrote haiku on the beach at Lake Michigan. Refreshing to be in a new place.
continuing renga with Walljasper:
———————————-
rain barrel near full
autumn chill settles the house
warms the beating heart
autumn beckons us homeward
we reflect in long shadows.
yellow ash, green grass
dark mornings meant to confuse
break the standing light
a chorus of chirping birds
make nodding farewells and take wing.
flight zigzagging South
a stop on the Platte River
fattens the belly
LikeLike
continuing with Ms. de QuoinMonkey….
———————————-
rain barrel near full
autumn chill settles the house
warms the beating heart
autumn beckons us homeward
we reflect in long shadows.
yellow ash, green grass
dark mornings meant to confuse
break the standing light
a chorus of chirping birds
noisily nod their farewells
flight zigzagging South
a stop on the Platte River
fattens the belly
what divine map have they seen?
and who whispers “birds, take wing”?
LikeLike
continuing Walljasper. beautiful last few lines. Thank you.
———————————-
rain barrel near full
autumn chill settles the house
warms the beating heart
autumn beckons us homeward
we reflect in long shadows.
yellow ash, green grass
dark mornings meant to confuse
break the standing light
a chorus of chirping birds
noisily nod their farewells
flight zigzagging South
a stop on the Platte River
fattens the belly
what divine map have they seen?
and who whispers “birds, take wing”?
thinning trees run bare
nothing ventured, nothing gained
standing still, the rain
LikeLike
continuing Ms. de QuoinMonkey.
I am always grateful to write with you – my mind raced back in time with your last line “standing still, the rain”. Evocative…lovely.
———————————-
rain barrel near full
autumn chill settles the house
warms the beating heart
autumn beckons us homeward
we reflect in long shadows.
yellow ash, green grass
dark mornings meant to confuse
break the standing light
a chorus of chirping birds
noisily nod their farewells
flight zigzagging South
a stop on the Platte River
fattens the belly
what divine map have they seen?
and who whispers “birds, take wing”?
thinning trees run bare
nothing ventured, nothing gained
standing still, the rain
glancing up, our eyelids pursed
tears joined in a gentle kiss.
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continuing Ms. de QuoinMonkey.
I am always grateful to write with you – my mind raced back in time with your last line “standing still, the rain”. Evocative…lovely.
———————————-
rain barrel near full
autumn chill settles the house
warms the beating heart
autumn beckons us homeward
we reflect in long shadows.
yellow ash, green grass
dark mornings meant to confuse
break the standing light
a chorus of chirping birds
noisily nod their farewells
flight zigzagging South
a stop on the Platte River
fattens the belly
what divine map have they seen?
and who whispers “birds, take wing”?
thinning trees run bare
nothing ventured, nothing gained
standing still, the rain
glancing up, our eyelids pursed
tears join in a gentle kiss.
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ach, revision!
continuing Ms. de QuoinMonkey.
I am always grateful to write with you – my mind raced back in time with your last line “standing still, the rain”. Evocative…lovely.
———————————-
rain barrel near full
autumn chill settles the house
warms the beating heart
autumn beckons us homeward
we reflect in long shadows.
yellow ash, green grass
dark mornings meant to confuse
break the standing light
a chorus of chirping birds
noisily nod their farewells
flight zigzagging South
a stop on the Platte River
fattens the belly
what divine map have they seen?
and who whispers “birds, take wing”?
thinning trees run bare
nothing ventured, nothing gained
standing still, the rain
glancing up, with eyelids pursed
droplets give a gentle kiss.
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ach, revision!
continuing Ms. de QuoinMonkey.
I am always grateful to write with you – my mind raced back in time with your last line “standing still, the rain”. Evocative…lovely.
———————————-
rain barrel near full
autumn chill settles the house
warms the beating heart
autumn beckons us homeward
we reflect in long shadows.
yellow ash, green grass
dark mornings meant to confuse
break the standing light
a chorus of chirping birds
noisily nod their farewells
flight zigzagging South
a stop on the Platte River
fattens the belly
what divine map have they seen?
and who whispers “birds, take wing”?
thinning trees run bare
nothing ventured, nothing gained
standing still, the rain
glancing up, our eyelids pursed
gentle drops bestow their kiss.
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autumn daybreak
each sock
clothespinned to a bruised cloud
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ach, revision!
continuing Ms. de QuoinMonkey.
I am always grateful to write with you – my mind raced back in time with your last line “standing still, the rain”. Evocative…lovely.
———————————-
rain barrel near full
autumn chill settles the house
warms the beating heart
autumn beckons us homeward
we reflect in long shadows.
yellow ash, green grass
dark mornings meant to confuse
break the standing light
a chorus of chirping birds
noisily nod their farewells
flight zigzagging South
a stop on the Platte River
fattens the belly
what divine map have they seen?
and who whispers “birds, take wing”?
thinning trees run bare
nothing ventured, nothing gained
standing still, the rain
glancing up, our eyelids pursed
gently anointed anew.
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rain barrel near full
autumn chill settles the house
warms the beating heart
autumn beckons us homeward
we reflect in long shadows.
yellow ash, green grass
dark mornings meant to confuse
break the standing light
a chorus of chirping birds
noisily nod their farewells
flight zigzagging South
a stop on the Platte River
fattens the belly
what divine map have they seen?
and who whispers “birds, take wing”?
thinning trees run bare
nothing ventured, nothing gained
standing still, the rain
glancing up, our eyelids pursed
gently anointed anew.
adding in a verse
two robins flit across
a page of my journal
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death of thousand cuts,
electronic paper cuts,
such is Powerpoint.
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rain barrel near full
autumn chill settles the house
warms the beating heart
autumn beckons us homeward
we reflect in long shadows.
yellow ash, green grass
dark mornings meant to confuse
break the standing light
a chorus of chirping birds
noisily nod their farewells
flight zigzagging South
a stop on the Platte River
fattens the belly
what divine map have they seen?
and who whispers “birds, take wing”?
thinning trees run bare
nothing ventured, nothing gained
standing still, the rain
glancing up, our eyelids pursed
gently anointed anew.
adding in a verse
two robins flit across
a page of my journal —
blue jay feather, a bookmark
helping me hold my place.
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feathered elegance,
flown by robins, jays and crows,
here’s my caw and scrawl.
continuing the renga with A~Lotus and Ms. de QuionMonkey
————————————
rain barrel near full
autumn chill settles the house
warms the beating heart
autumn beckons us homeward
we reflect in long shadows.
yellow ash, green grass
dark mornings meant to confuse
break the standing light
a chorus of chirping birds
noisily nod their farewells
flight zigzagging South
a stop on the Platte River
fattens the belly
what divine map have they seen?
and who whispers “birds, take wing”?
thinning trees run bare
nothing ventured, nothing gained
standing still, the rain
glancing up, our eyelids pursed
gently anointed anew.
adding in a verse
two robins flit across
a page of my journal –
blue jay feather, a bookmark
helping me hold my place.
through my small window
whole worlds parade past the panes
undeterred by rain.
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ach! – the crow mis-spelled Ms. de QuoinMonkey.
Caw! Caw!
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quick replay on words –
————
through a small window
whole worlds parade past my pains
undeterred by rain.
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(reply to friend who asked “Why do older people have such a hard time operating digital cameras?”)
“Are those my glasses?”
“No, ‘digital camera.”
I keep fumbling.
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A FACEBOOK MESSAGE IN THE NEAR-FUTURE
TO A WOULD-BE CLIENT FROM A YOUNG
LAWYER OBSESSED WITH AVOIDING THE
SLIGHTEST HINT OF A CONFLICT OF INTEREST
If I Dfend U
Then 1st I must Dfriend U.
C U @ the ct.
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LOL. Good to read your artful words, Robert. 😉
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rain barrel near full
autumn chill settles the house
warms the beating heart
autumn beckons us homeward
we reflect in long shadows.
yellow ash, green grass
dark mornings meant to confuse
break the standing light
a chorus of chirping birds
noisily nod their farewells
flight zigzagging South
a stop on the Platte River
fattens the belly
what divine map have they seen?
and who whispers “birds, take wing”?
thinning trees run bare
nothing ventured, nothing gained
standing still, the rain
glancing up, our eyelids pursed
gently anointed anew.
adding in a verse
two robins flit across
a page of my journal –
blue jay feather, a bookmark
helping me hold my place.
through my small window
whole worlds parade past the panes
undeterred by rain…
even under the eaves
frogs swim in rain buckets
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@Robert: That is hilarious with “If I Dfend U”! Thanks for sharing! 8) Made me laugh.
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I agree, Robert. Have always loved your sense of humor on these haiku posts. 8)
_____________
rain barrel near full
autumn chill settles the house
warms the beating heart
autumn beckons us homeward
we reflect in long shadows.
yellow ash, green grass
dark mornings meant to confuse
break the standing light
a chorus of chirping birds
noisily nod their farewells
flight zigzagging South
a stop on the Platte River
fattens the belly
what divine map have they seen?
and who whispers “birds, take wing”?
thinning trees run bare
nothing ventured, nothing gained
standing still, the rain
glancing up, our eyelids pursed
gently anointed anew.
adding in a verse
two robins flit across
a page of my journal –
blue jay feather, a bookmark
helping me hold my place.
through my small window
whole worlds parade past the panes
undeterred by rain…
even under the eaves
frogs swim in rain buckets
low land hurricane
60mph winds
rattle ancient panes
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continuing our renga
————————-
rain barrel near full
autumn chill settles the house
warms the beating heart
autumn beckons us homeward
we reflect in long shadows.
yellow ash, green grass
dark mornings meant to confuse
break the standing light
a chorus of chirping birds
noisily nod their farewells
flight zigzagging South
a stop on the Platte River
fattens the belly
what divine map have they seen?
and who whispers “birds, take wing”?
thinning trees run bare
nothing ventured, nothing gained
standing still, the rain
glancing up, our eyelids pursed
gently anointed anew.
adding in a verse
two robins flit across
a page of my journal –
blue jay feather, a bookmark
helping me hold my place.
through my small window
whole worlds parade past the panes
undeterred by rain…
even under the eaves
frogs swim in rain buckets
low land hurricane
60mph winds
rattle ancient panes
nature’s wild shaman dances
we watch, huddled by the fire.
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The morning sun-
it fell into the willow
gold dress shimmers.
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People described him
As a man of few words. And
Tedious pauses.
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Robert, you are clever indeed – superb.
And now a few words about love, sans the tedium of regret.
———————————-
‘Brought her flowers ’cause
I was bad, ‘brought more later
for chance to be good.
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Writing
Waiting for nothing
to ring the bell of something–
what is that black sound?
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Home in Pennsylvania visiting my brother and the rest of the family. He just had a liver transplant a few weeks ago.
__________
Frankenbelly scars
family at the Half Moon
my heart becomes whole
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Wishing your family and your brother so well, Ms. Quoin de Monkey.
I hope your visit brings joy and a calm to your heart.
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Dear QuoinMonkey,
I hope that your brother’s recovery goes well. I apologize beforehand for the following.
Mamby Pamby wed
Willy Nilly. They had kids
Who despised their names.
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Friend – w/foot injury-on-the-mend – announced she was wandering the house, wearing sneakers (plural), not a boot.
————–
Some wander the house
dressed ONLY in sneakers
‘ready for a lap.
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happy friday, all.
———————-
time for medicine.
make mine a double, doctor.
shaken, not stirred.
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Thanks to all for the support. I am home in Minnesota again after a great visit to Pennsylvania. My brother is doing very well. Almost Thanksgiving weekend. Can you believe another year has almost passed?
_____________
ice coated oak branch
sleeting rain in Twin Cities
forms a single front
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[…] -related to post: haiku 2 (one-a-day) […]
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“Keep those claws inside!”
carefully sheathed like small knives
paws play hide and seek
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Thanksgiving morning
crows roost silent in spruce trees
only sound is WIND
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heads bowed, we give thanks
for life, family and friends
happy thanksgiving.
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going for the renga with oliverowl – continuing
————-
“Keep those claws inside!”
carefully sheathed like small knives
paws play hide and seek
‘moment of pain, lifetime love
paddy-pawing kitty kat.
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“keep those claws inside!”
carefully sheathedlike small knives
paws play hide and seek
moment of pain, lifetime love
paddy-pawing kitty kat.
to err is feline
the human shall pamper me
and then hear my purr.
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continuing the renga with oliverowl 😉
————————-
“keep those claws inside!”
carefully sheathedlike small knives
paws play hide and seek
moment of pain, lifetime love
paddy-pawing kitty kat.
to err is feline
the human shall pamper me
and then hear my purr.
no need for figs and honey,
just light snacks, served from warm lap.
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There’s nothing quite like
our delight, chagrin and love
that inspires a verse.
continuing the renga with oliverowl
————————-
“keep those claws inside!”
carefully sheathed like small knives
paws play hide and seek
moment of pain, lifetime love
paddy-pawing kitty kat.
to err is feline
the human shall pamper me
and then hear my purr.
no need for figs and honey,
just light snacks, served from warm lap.
“that’s it…you’re learning.
and how shall I be petted?
let me count the ways”
(* human domestication
began in ancient eygypt)
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Gather ye rosebuds…
and even some Facebook friends.
But rosebuds come first.
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“that’s it…you’re learning
and how shall I be petted?
let me count the ways”
first you’ll scratch behind my ears
then you’ll stroke my dainty chin.
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“keep those claws inside!”
carefully sheathed like small knives
paws play hide and seek
moment of pain, lifetime love
paddy-pawing kitty kat.
to err is feline
the human shall pamper me
and then hear my purr.
no need for figs and honey,
just light snacks, served from warm lap.
“that’s it…you’re learning.
and how shall I be petted?
let me count the ways
first you’ll scratch behind my ears
then you’ll stroke my dainty chin.”
“Ack! I saw a MOUSE!
Oh…false alarm. just some dust
sorry for the claws.
My daydreams as a mouser
come to life as you pet me.”
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a slight rev to the last two lines – continuing the renga with oliverowl. 😉
“keep those claws inside!”
carefully sheathed like small knives
paws play hide and seek
moment of pain, lifetime love
paddy-pawing kitty kat.
to err is feline
the human shall pamper me
and then hear my purr.
no need for figs and honey,
just light snacks, served from warm lap.
“that’s it…you’re learning.
and how shall I be petted?
let me count the ways
first you’ll scratch behind my ears
then you’ll stroke my dainty chin.”
“Ack! I saw a MOUSE!
Oh…false alarm…just some dust…
‘Sorry for the claws…
only a hunter’s daydream.
Walter Mitty Kitty, me.”
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Walljasper & oliverowl, you two are rockin’ on the renga! Fun to read.
___________
1st of December
driving snow & waning light
shake the Quarter Moon
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Lol – nice to hear your voice, Ms. de QuoinMonkey, always.
—————————–
a story to coo
over coffee and challah,
breakfasting with Pantz.
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Let me read your palm.
Ah, your life line is soooo long…
Oh-oh, short index.
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REFUDIATE?
Even real cool cats
Must find time to chill out and
To de-grooviate.
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Continuing the mischief with Robert de Morse..
——————
REFUDIATE?
Even real cool cats
Must find time to chill out and
To de-grooviate.
down a few hot buttered rums
snowy moods, they obviate.
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Continuing the mischief with Robert de Morse. With a sixties twist.
——————
REFUDIATE?
Even real cool cats
Must find time to chill out and
To de-grooviate.
down a few hot buttered rums
snowy moods, they obviate.
It’ a sparkling place,
diamond-studded outer space
Lucy In The Sky.
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in and out of traffic
weaving the wintry skies
a red hawk
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a haiku to usher in the new year:
twenty eleven
two thousand and eleven
Happy New Haiku!
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Happy New Year’s Eve to all my haiku friends. I’m working on a new haiku post for 2011. Can’t wait to get it up (hopefully early this week). This post ended up spanning two years and I’m so grateful for all the red Ravine haiku readers who keep coming back.
Happy New Year to you, too, oliverowl! Adding to your haiku for New Year’s tanka / renga:
____________
twenty eleven
two thousand and eleven
Happy New Haiku!
coasting into a New Year
starting over, letting go.
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Happy New Year wishes to all.
The following contains a pronoun, but it is a fictional one.
The music we shared
Infected by one false note.
Now all is dull noise.
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Happy New Year, dear haiku pals! I’m recommitting to my practice to write a haiku a day in 2011 and look forward to the birth of a new haiku post here at red Ravine! For today:
only ten degrees
Buddha statue wears green scarf
snowy new year’s day
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New year’s dawn patrol
three thousand foot descent
joyfully awake
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breathepeace, I’m so happy to hear this! I worked on the new haiku post a little this morning. Working hard to get it out this week. Love your Buddha haiku. So fitting. It was zero degrees in Minnesota when I woke up this morning. Happy New Year!
___________
yellow suet tugs
woodpecker hugs frozen sky
never falls from grace
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in predawn darkness
wild wind howls across prairie
Wyoming new year
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@breathepeace: I love your “only ten degrees” haiku. It’s comical but yet lovely. 8)
And HAPPY NEW YEAR TO ALL HAIKU/TANKA/RENGA CONTRIBUTORS! It’s great to be entering the new year practicing all of these Japanese form poetry. I am too recommitting to another year–I think starting on my 3rd year with reading/studying/writing/experimenting with all Japanese forms. 🙂
Can’t wait for our 2011 haiku post!
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A~Lotus, I put the finishing touches on the new haiku post tonight. I hope to have it out in the morning. It’s a long post because I added three new poetry forms and reposted the four in this post. But I think it will be worth it for our new readers to have the chance to see the definitions all in one space. I’m excited to get it up. It’s taken me a while! It’s amazing that 2011 marks the beginning of the 4th year of haiku practice on red Ravine. I’m so grateful for all who keep coming back to write in community. Thank you!
___________
midnight ramblings
tumble over gray matter
stop cold on the page
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@QM: Impressive! The 4th year! I can’t believe it! No rush about the new haiku post, QM. I figured that it was going to be a long post because of all the forms we’ve learned and practiced this past year. Can’t wait for its debut!
——————————————
midnight ramblings
tumble over gray matter
stop cold on the page…
my pen rolls off into
a trail of bird footprints
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[…] Taos, New Mexico. The response from our readers was so great, that we continued the practice with haiku 2 (one-a-day), adding the poetic forms of tanka and renga, and creating a community haiku practice that would […]
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Here is my first shot at the gogyohka:
What is this sadness
about the loss of sadness
when you wake up
with a feeling of sun
and miss the rain?
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Lotus, I like the tanka. Nice completion. Thank you for your continued support!
Teresa, I hope you don’t mind if I re-post your gogyohka in the comments on the new haiku 4 post. I’m so excited to have our first gogyohka posted on red Ravine! It’s wonderful.
To all of our red Ravine haiku poets — finally got the new haiku 4 (one-a-day) (LINK) post up. I hope all of our haiku, tanka, renga friends will migrate over to the 2011 post. I added it to the sidebar. Excited to explore new forms this year: gogyohko, haibun, and haiga! Come on over; it’s going to be a good year!
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[…] I was in Ely, Minnesota on a hot July afternoon when a new haiku 2 (one-a-day) notification popped up on my BlackBerry. It was A~Lotus, a friend I met through red Ravine. Liz and I were taking a break in our room at the Adventure Inn before heading back to the North American Bear Center. I took a minute to read the comment: […]
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‘leaning in to say
i miss writing together
with Ms. Quoinmonkey
shall we dance yet again the
renga electric. dear Quoin?
–
Walljasper
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OMG! I’m so surprised to see this e mail! Are you all still going? Roma? I took Natalie Goldberg’s Writing class on line and am in some Zoom groups from that class! Feroza
Sent from my iPhone
>
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Feroza, I took Natalie’s online class, too. It inspired me to practice again, both photography and writing. It was like having Natalie teach in your living room. Grateful. Will try to post here once a week. Progress not perfection. -Debra
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( written in about 5 years ago after back-to-back sleazy “Summer of Love d’ Scandals”, featuring Charlie Sheen and Gavin Newsom
to err is human
and to forgive is divine
and then there’s rehab
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I do miss Renga…might have to craft an opener and see if Quoinmonkey will dance the Renga Electric yet again….cheers.
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Let’s do it, Walljasper! I’ve missed you. So good to hear from you.
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Very fitting, Walljasper. lol
Renga it is.
_______________________
to err is human
and to forgive is divine
and then there’s rehab
secrets, sex, and sadness
ghosts running in rain
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