We are writing traditional haibun about “one shining moment” in our life. Green and gold were mt high school’s colors.
After four years came her shining moment: Finally she was graduating from high school, with high honors. Her grades were not perfect, but she was happier for the fact of their imperfection, since it showed that she could survive it.
The sky above the sea of green and gold smiled benignly, while the future lay ahead of her like an exciting novel, in a language she could not read.
Under blazing sun
Clouds float in their big ocean —
We toss tasseled caps
For SoCS, our word is “nail.” Sometimes my brain can be ridiculous, but that’s stream-of-consciousness, so without further ado….
All I can think about are nail salons, even though I hate manicures. Looking at my cuticles, you can tell I hate manicures. What I hate more than manicures is how many places remain closed. I would appreciate the freedom to deny a manicure myself.
remind me of M&Ms
that you cannot eat
This haibun is written in response to Frank J. Tassone’s prompt about Easter lilies. Easter is celebrated for 8 days on the Catholic liturgical calendar, and the Easter season lasts for several more weeks. I am grateful for each of my friends, especially for those who have stayed in contact with me during this crisis, but I still am having such a hard time not being able to see anyone in person!
I would give white Easter lilies to my friends, to say, “Pleased to have made your acquaintance.” Then I may bestow, on a certain someone, lilies of yellow, to urge us to “live for the moment.”
though love is patient
fights against separation
from the Beloved
On this first day of NaPoWriMo, I am posting a haibun in response to Frank J. Tassone’s prompt about the virus.
Almost exactly two years before this quarantine started, I spent my spring break visiting a monastery. I was considering the life of a cloistered nun, as I was very attracted to their way of life and prayer.
I loved every minute of that time and even visited again that summer. However, in the end, it was not to be, and I have not pursued it any further.
Now is my new chance to be a cloistered nun.
Black-and-white clad nuns
Flock together in spirit
As bells are tolling
This haibun-ish poem is written in response to DVerse Poetics “now I can see” prompt. Follow the link for more information and many responses.Note: I wasn’t sure what to write for this prompt, but then my friend bought me coffee beans and left them on the porch with a nice little note.
When the barn has burned down,
oh, you can see the moon!
When the structure has crumbled,
soon, naturally, you can see peace.
When the churches are closed,
you realize more deeply, what
Jesus means by, “I am with you always.”
When we must stay far apart,
we find new ways to share our heart.
morning, a surprise:
friendship grows through coffee gift
outside on the porch
The next planet from the sun, from us, is Mars, named for the Roman god of war. This red planet contrasts with our Earth, the “blue planet,” yet even if we have no battles in our name, we are at war with our home.
I’m a little behind on prompts, so this poem is for Frank’s haikai challenge about the Wolf Moon, DVerse’s haibun Monday about beginnings, and JusJoJan day 7, “mix.”
At the beginning of this year, I think of the last — a mixture of joyous and difficult, heavy on the bitterness — and I get nervous. Emotions cannot void the truth: that I got through 2019 (someone even told me I was thriving), and the same can be for 2020. Memories of sadness stick a little better, but count the stars of happy moments — if you are able to number them.
After fullness starts anew —