This haibun was inspired by today’s NaPoWriMo prompt. I did not follow it exactly, as we were supposed to use a description of what was outside our window as the beginning of an erasure poem, but I simply turned the description into a haibun. Shared with DVerse open link night.
Outside the window of this coffee shop, cars drive by, close to the freeway. There’s a gray, chain-link fence and a bank of bushes between here and the street. The sun hasn’t set yet, probably will not for another couple of hours.
On my way walking here, a truck-full of friends called my name and waved from across the intersection. I’m still wondering who they all were, though one of them looked familiar.
Rushing river, with
Stones trying to stop its flow —
The water moves on.
This poem was inspired by a wonderful, nearly-three-hour conversation with some dear friends today and also by a prompt about being in the moment from Real Toads.
Life is luscious
In the moment, when
Three hours of talking
Flies by in a flash,
The three of us
Growing closer with every word.
When we say goodbye
I wish for
But life is bright
And beautiful as a supernova.
For today’s Tuesday Poetics at DVerse, Sarah is inviting us to write ekphrastic poetry inspired by the work of the artist Fay Collins. I was loosely inspired by the following image but mainly by the concept of writing poetry about visual art.
Painting by Fay Collins.
Writing poems about
Paintings — we see new layers
Saturated colors, meaning
Painted with a pen —
This is my best attempt at a miniature poem, which I learned about from Linda Luna. Click here to see the parameters for the rhyme scheme and syllables.
After suffering a bit,
Sing a song of joy:
There is hope beyond the pain,
Pain cannot destroy.
Time will mitigate the hurt,
Though it’s not forgotten:
Time will help to heal the wounds,
And nothing in heaven
Or on Earth can conquer this
Promise of eternal bliss.
This week’s haibun Monday prompt uses the Japanese term chijitsu, which means “lingering day”or “long spring day.” It was full of nostalgia for me. I do love when the days get longer, and the evening stretches out.
Late-spring and summer evenings, my family enjoyed eating dinner outside in our backyard, among the flowering plants and the twilit warmth. We would imitate the sunlight by lingering over plates of home-cooked food, often barbequed, and entertaining conversation. During these leisurely meals, we shared a special closeness and camaraderie that did not seem to be present during other seasons. These memories are long-lasting, rare but happy.
Like a cat sunlight
Languishes, stretches, but then:
For NaPoWriMo day 16, based on the prompt to write a poem that prominently features some aspect of play, here. Ever since I was a small child, I have loved using words in creative ways and have always been a writer, even when I had no skills whatsoever. the form for this poem is a ninette.
Many short stories.
My own life,
This is a cinquain written in response to the NaPoWriMo day 15 prompt about writing from a villain’s point of view. We are challenged to make the villain seem human but still evil.
Mock me, glinting cruelly.
Is this enough to say sorry,
This is a response to this prompt from the NaPoWriMo site. We are challenged to write about what it means to dream about at least one of several items: Teacup, Hammer, Seagull, Ballet slipper, Shark, Wobbly table, Dentist, or Rowboat.
A five-year-old girl takes ballet,
Putting on her pink leotard and tutu
And ballet slippers with bliss.
She smiles, she dances
Despite her physical weakness,
And if I dream of this —
If I, in sleep, meet the young me —
It reveals a hidden yearning
To return to innocence,
Freedom from harsh judgments,
Simply dancing scared of nothing.
For Frank J. Tassone’s latest haikai challenge. This one was difficult for me.
We waited for spring.
February was too cold.
Love was not coming.
But look! Pink as sun’s first rays,
Cherry trees in bloom, hope stays.
It seems like I’ve written a lot about silence recently, which is rather ironic. Here is another poem, for NaPoWriMo day 13, inspired by the prompt word, silent, from Waiting On Words.
Once again I write of silence.
So many people,
Prompting poets to silence!
So much about silence?
Because silence, fascinating,
Is such an anomaly —
And I, for one,
Know not how to stop
This pen from writing.