This week at DVerse, we are writing haibun about water. I’m excited about this prompt because there is so much potential in it. In fact, I will probably write a few different haibun using this theme. This is my first attempt.
(Image from Google)
Looking at molecules of water under a microscope, scientists have found that the appearance can differ, depending on the words that are spoken in the surroundings. Words have an energy, to which the water responds. The crystals look beautiful when exposed to kindness.
The human body is 70% water.
May you see springtime
In your spirit, energy
As flowers in bloom.
This week’s haibun challenge on DVerse is to write about, Shimo no Koe, the Japanese term for first frost’s voice. As I live in California, I usually do not experience snow or any truly cold temperatures, so this was difficult for me, and I didn’t think that I would have any ideas. However, my grandparents live in Montana, and the rest of my family sometimes visits them. This was inspired by my first trip up there, when I was a baby.
I have no memories of a first frost. All I possess are pictures: my family at my grandparents’ house in Montana, and I’m at most a year old, probably less than that. It was an idyllic scene, a blanket of white on the flat farmland, Bridger Mountains in the distance. That year, we had a white Christmas.
Shimo no koe
Words for first frost; how to say
“When is the first thaw?”
For DVerse’s MTB this week. Our topic is sleep.
We had no constraints or guidelines as far as form or rhyme scheme, and I decided to write a haibun.
My eyes, and your eyes, are windows through which we see souls. Connections. Hopes. Dreams. Lift the curtains of sleep. Make smaller the space between.
Blue as a clear sky,
Clean as springs from melting snows,
To see, to live dreams.
This week’s Haibun Monday which I am responding to on a Tuesday, is about why we write the way we do. It’s a tough question and a challenging prompt but a fun one to complete! I was looking forward to seeing what I would come up with and what my fellow poets would write as well.
Sometimes it feels slow and painful to put pen to paper. Other times it’s like a heavenly muse inspires, and I am its scribe. Sometimes my poetry begins darkly, but I try to be careful around quicksand, and grab the hand of God, my hope, before any negativity sucks me under.
Why does spring return,
Fighting, dancing with seasons?
They are taking turns.
This is a collaborative poem for Jilly’s September challenge. Frank wrote the first half of a double haibun. It took me a long time to come up with a way to finish it, but I am pleased with how this turned out. It might be a little too repetitive, but I hope I did the first half justice. Frank’s half is in bold, and my additions are in purple.
Autumn changes focus on school schedules and condo movements, but now for our children, not for us. It’s the same with Spring. In between these events, like sunlight going through the leaves of trees, there is viewing the lake and parkways where trees can reach for the sun because the buildings are small enough for them to have a chance.
LIGHT THROUGH PATIENT TREES
BUILDINGS BLOCK THE AUTUMN SKY
BOTH PROVIDE COOL SHADE
Spring changes focus on school breaks and colorful flowers and the return of chirping birds, more for the world than for us. It’s the opposite of Autumn. In between these events, the sunlight goes through the leaves of trees, and our children pursue their dreams, while we live through them vicariously.
SEASONS CHANGE, NEW COMES
FOR OUR CHILDREN NOT FOR US
BIRDS RETURN, PLANTS GROW
This is for today’s “haibun Monday” at DVerse. Today we were challenged to write about being in-between seasons. The prompt was inspired by the Japanese word komorebi, which refers to the light that filters between leaves, especially in spring or fall. It seems to me like the transition between summer and fall happens quickly, as stores tend to dive right into Halloween.
I was browsing a store on the first of September, and it didn’t take long to notice the numerous Halloween decorations for sale or the fact that bulky bags of candy were already on the shelves. Do people not know that Halloween lies at the end of October? Do people want to rush their precious life along, riding time like a racehorse, and without changing consumerism’s course? It is more scary than sweet to me, more a trick than a treat.
Quickly calling ghosts
Realizing life’s brevity –
Red leaves fall with grief.
This was written in response to day 26 of Jilly’s 28 Days of Unreason challenge. The quote was, “On some clear nights in the country the stars can exhaust us” ~ Jim Harrison
I saw stars every summer when I went camping. Late at night, my friends and I would like on top of a large rock, talking, looking up at the sky. Without the glaring artificial lights, we’d take in the amazing sight of a sky full of stars. We could not identity every constellation, but how amazing it was that there were so many, hidden when we were in the city!
I no longer go camping — the stars’ beauty is relegated to memory — but in some ways I am still resting on that rock as I remember:
Though we cannot see,
We have friends in high places
Looking down at us.