One Shining Moment

We are writing traditional haibun about “one shining moment” in our life. Green and gold were mt high school’s colors.

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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

Nailed It

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.

painted fingernails
remind me of M&Ms
that you cannot eat

 

Busy Streets

This is a haibun for DVerse about this image:

 

Piet Mondrian, ‘Broadway Boogie Woogie, 1942-43, moma.org

 

The primary colors pop, but the spaces are prominent. The many lines are criss-crossing, but the colors are not mixing. There is a certain, conspicuous distance amidst all the activity.

Hustle and bustle
Life’s slow return to normal —
I still want a hug

Lilies are not only white

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!

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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

 

Photo by Evie Shaffer on Pexels.com

My Home Is A Monastery Now

On this first day of NaPoWriMo, I am posting a haibun in response to Frank J. Tassone’s prompt about the virus.

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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

 

I See

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.

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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

see the darkness in the light

A haibun for this week’s first-line Friday, for Heeding Haiku with Chevrefeuille, and for today’s Weekly Scribblings on the theme of “contagion.”

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Everyone breathed easier at the first signs of spring. the sun seemed a little bit happier to get up in the morning. People began to shed the extra weightiness of winter coats.

Everyone breathed easier — until they didn’t, thanks to the contagion that oppresses so many, no matter the weather: depression.

Groundhog sees shadow
Six more weeks of winter left
Despite the snowdrops

The Names of Planets

Today at DVerse haibun Monday, we are writing about Mars. 

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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.

 

Verdant environs

Become brown under hot sun

When the sky’s afire

Beginning Again

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.”

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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.

January moon
After fullness starts anew —
Stellar companions

Poking

The prompt for JusJoJan day 3 is poking and prodding me to respond to it. 

My brothers were more avid gamers than me, but we all played the Pokemon series. I remember getting “Blue Version” for my birthday at 7 years old. My brothers received “Yellow” and “Red” versions.

We stopped playing the games after the third generation came out (“Ruby” and “Sapphire”), but there have been many more games in the series since then.

Even my young students at work like Pokemon, which surprises me. They are even more surprised, when I can name most of the Pokemon!

Generational gems

Shining like innocent smiles

Memories poking