It is so solid, strong, that I feel it must last forever. Until disaster proves that nothing is forever. I feel so solid, strong, I feel I can last forever. Until…
Chalk dust Pastel sky Fragile
This was written for Collen’s weekly poetry challenge. This is the first Tuesday of the month, so it is poet’s choice. I chose a haibun with a senryu (or maybe a haiku) that I did in a 2-3-2 form.
I was digging through some old drawings and found this from May of 2001 – 20 years ago! I had just returned from Paris and used a photo I had taken of Notre Dame for this pastel drawing. The cherry trees were in bloom while we were there…
Music Handmade glass bulbs Ancient songs about birth Cheap ornaments bought in childhood Gingerbread
The sadly-sweet strains of Vince Guaraldi’s piano fill the air with the melancholy of Charlie Brown, and with nostalgia. I open the package and carefully unwrap the treasures within. I smile at the first priceless item, a box with cheap bulbs from the 1930s bought at an antique store for only a dollar. That was from my first Christmas alone. Next there is a bulb wrapped in tissue from several years later. It was bought at an art gallery for more than the price of 20 boxes of Wal Mart ornaments. But then there are those Wal Mart specials, all gold and red. As I go through the decorations one-by-one and slowly fill the tree, the music changes to the late medieval music of Praetorius. Why did Christmas demand to have a soundtrack that included so much from the medieval and Renaissance? The last bulb up, I stand back as the Roche’s version of Sleigh Ride adds a joyful note to the air.
Bing crones White Christmas Ancient boxes hold treasure Gingerbread spices Sounds heard but once every year Add sparkle to old glass bulbs
Bare branches, half guessed, a darker black silhouetted against void, whisper amongst themselves in the northern breeze. A few last leaves flutter down. A flash of silver is quickly hidden, the magic light extinguished as rapidly as it had appeared. Looking up, I guess where the moon lies hidden behind the blanket of turmoil that is the sky. I wrap my jacket tighter around myself, but can’t stop the moist air from seeping in, hungerly stealing my warmth. The approaching dawn has been hijacked, the sun led astray, for the sky remains that slate grey.
White rim on last leaf Dull glow illuminates grey November dark clouds
This was written for Colleen’s weekly poetry challenge. This week we used a theme, which was given by Sue Vincent in the form of a haiku (see below). I wrote a haibun with a haiku for the challenge.
I walk along, breathing the frosty late autumn air. Leaves rustle, speaking as they are moved aside by my feet. But then I pause, silencing their death rattle. Is there another sound? I listen. The trees, some still wearing a wispy shroud of yellow, brown and orange, whisper to me. What secrets will they share?
I am told that the adoring crowds had called his name. He had stood, proud, chin up, condemning all who disagreed as sad losers. His followers chanted back his very words. Is the wind echoing these throngs? Are the words still alive, speaking to condemn all who he perceived as an enemy?
No. A senseless babble about how in the years too many to count, the span of the life of one man is meaningless is all that I hear. He is silenced now, and the words forgotten. Not even the wind will remember.
Wind whispers through leaves Does the tree grow on a mound Its purpose long lost? The mighty king ruled the land Now is just forgotten dust
This was written for Colleen’s Poetry Challenge. This is week 200! This is a theme week, and the chosen them is The Illusion of Power. My mind went two ways – the graveyard scene in Hamlet on the one hand, and our current politics on the other. Of course, there is also Halloween coming up… Put together with recently read words about hundreds of grave barrows of forgotten kings, well… I chose to write a Haibun with a Tanka at its core.
I walk along the razor’s edge. A misstep would throw me into the deep abyss, or so it would seem. The choices before me are so important! I walk the narrow path, projecting the unexplored territory ahead in my mind. Will the trail dictate my action or my action dictate my path?
Ledge in the forest Rising before men arrived Here when we are gone
This was written for Colleen’s Poetry Challenge. This week she asked us to write a Haibun and use the photo at the top, which was provided by Frank J. Tassone.
It is a dark and cold November day. The clouds are dragging grey across the dull sky, faded dead leaves litter the ground. Even the fire doesn’t provide warmth. I need something to spark my flame. I need you.
You beckon, drawing me into the bedroom. Beneath the sheets, you cuddled in my arms, I see lovers in the vibrant clouds. The setting sun glints rainbows on the tropical waters with horses dancing in the waves. A warm breeze over the cool, majestic mountains makes me forget the forecast of snow. Waterfalls near and far pulls me more into your allure.
I search you out on a cold dark day Your agile tongue speaks in my mind I follow your elegance Dreaming with open eyes Bewitched by your tone Another land On your pages A book You
This is a double Challenge.
I decided to participate in Sadje’s What Do You See challenge, which she recently started to host. She provided the painting at the top (Painted by Jim Warren, found on Google) as this week’s prompt.
This was also written for Colleen’s weekly poetry challenge. This week’s key words are Grace and Style, but only synonyms can be used. I chose a Haibun with a nonet.
I hope you enjoyed this love poem to books and reading :)
I flip the leaf of the calendar, as the leaf outside of my window flips and heads towards the ground. I knew it! It is October! That means it is almost time for the spirits to rise on that most special day of the year, Halloween. To raise out own spirits, we need to start the spiced cider boiling, and all of you witches need to make an even more special brew. For:
The leaves are changing Halloween is almost here Fix a special treat Autumn’s dark and deadly brew Boiled in a witches Cauldron
I feel the power, like a sun behind me. A vision flashes through my mind. Is it a knife coming down like Hitchcock’s Psycho? Perhaps a Stephan King skeletal hand will grab my ankle. I whip around, ready to face anything, anything, but what is really there. I meet your gaze and all is lost.
I step in your trap That is found behind your eyes Your bewitching stare The magic spell that you cast Makes me rise above the Earth
Is it just your charm? Perhaps a deeper power Enthralled by the glance A thought and I glide above Your eyes making my heart soar
Lost, but found, captivated by your spell, I am launched into your orbit.
I look into a rose-tint fog and smile at the dancing shadows. A thin, transparent barrier divides me from this place. I imagine that I step through this wall of celluloid and find you still there, just as you were. I reach out, but grab only mist. You aren’t really here, are you? And neither am I, really. Is it real, or was it at one time? Perhaps that color I see has tainted all. The curtain comes down.
Lights Camera Memory Can it be real? Was it really me? And was it really you? In the movie, you loved me Your eyes glistened in the close-up The story unfolded on the screen Your presence stole every scene you were in That movie played out in a different world I memorized the script and action Or that is how it seemed Was it a work of fiction A script written by me Played out in my mind? Did you love me? Memory
The past Dream
Written for Colleen’s Poetry challenge. Each week she gives us two keywords, only we must use synonyms only, not the words themselves. This week the key words were the poet’s (me ;) ) choice, so I chose “Film” (yes, the title) and “Remembered” This week I decided to do a haibun with a double etheree.
I am going along, getting on with my life. I hear a voice, stop and look, You are having fun with your favorite diversion, or so it seems. You behave like you’re in a show, but are acting only for yourself, for you do not see me here. And then it hits me, and I have to wonder, do I really see you?
I see your shadow Absorbed into your pastime I want to join in I’m not really part of it I’m on the outside, looking in
Written for Colleen’s Poetry challenge. Each week she gives us two keywords, only we must use synonyms only, not the words themselves. This week the key words were the poet’s (me ;) ) choice, so I chose “Hobby” and “Play” This week I decided to do a haibun with a tanka.