Unite Our Breaths

For Ronovan Writes’s haiku challenge. I wrote a somonka, which is two tankas, usually having the theme of love or loss. 


The plaintive wolf howls

At the moon; her face is mine

Missing you in night —

I see breath in chilly air

Longing for my belovèd.

 

I too see the moon;

She is beautiful as you

May we soon unite —

See your presence next to me

Embracing my belovèd.

Dream World

This is a renga poem inspired by Chèvrefeuille’s challenge, using haiku by Kobayashi Issa. His parts of the poem are in italics. Please check out this link for more information.


in my province

grass blooms too…

cherry blossoms

 

sweet aroma gone too soon

goodbye to pink innocence

 

tonight’s moon —

how many mountains resemble

the ones back home? 

 

a kind face is always there

amidst repeated challenge

 

tomorrow morning

a humdrum river beach again? 

summer moon

 

miracles come so often

they become boring, common

 

shallow river —

a dawn moon

melons cooling

 

see fresh sweetness is present

taste the fruit beneath tough rind

 

a babbling brook

chills the sake …

roses of Sharon

 

speak vividly as I drink

inebriated — what’s your name?

 

from the tip 

of the forest ranger’s broom

spring departs

 

wake from half-remembered dreams —

sometimes preferable world

Starlight

For Real Toads. I’m not sure I fully understood the prompt, but the starlight could be one-dimensional, and the night sky is also a type of space.


Starlight shines brightly,

Away from the city,

Where streetlamps’ electricity

Cannot drown it out.

 

See the many swimming

Stars in the night sky,

Conscious awareness barely skimming

The full reality.

 

See the many pictures

Made from these countless stars,

Human imagination stirs,

Creating stories from afar.

 

Starlight shines brightly,

And the moon is happy

To see her dear friends

Before this peaceful night ends.

 

 

 

Scattering Poems

At Real Toads, our starting point is a line from a poem by e. e. cummings:

“in the street of the sky night walks scattering poems”


The morning

dawns, dreams
lights up with poems

 

The noonday sun

heats poems, cooks them
to perfection.

 

When evening comes

the poems go on walks
and knock on stars’
front doors —

they come out on their
front porches

listening to the symphony
of many crickets,

whose music births
other poems —

 

When night softly falls

moon pens majestic odes,
stars come into
constellations

which have inspired
poems upon poems