Left to dissolve to nothing,
Life is a vapor quickly
Leaving almost no traces.
Leaves tumble from autumn trees
Listless, dead in whisp’ring wind,
Lethe takes memories — so
Light from stars must say goodbye.
For DVerse Poetics, we are writing about November: What does it mean to you? What does it remind you of? I wrote a 9-line poem, like an etheree but with 9 instead of 10 lines, because “novem-” means “nine.” Also linked with FOWC: Anticipate. Thanks to Sanaa for the DVerse prompt and for inspiring the title.
For this installment of Heeding Haiku with Chèvrefeuille, we are writing about colors. I wrote first about the coloring that I like to do, but then I saw the flowers in my family’s garden and found them inspiring. Shared also with the Writers’ Pantry.
lovely new dresses this season’s latest fashion demure blooms display —
how can I be sorrowful, ‘midst this exquisite brightness?
For the current Weekly Scribblings, Magaly has asked us to write about anything October. I was partially inspired by the moon (shocking, right? 😉 ), so this haibun is also linked to Frank’s challenge. I love it when multiple prompts synchronize! (Thank you to Fandango for that one.)
If Halloween is on a dark and stormy night, remember: the Hunter’s moon is shining, reflecting sun’s light, even if nobody sees it.
Likewise, if current life does not seem fruitful, know: the Harvest moon will share its bounty, even this very night.
Luna’s face imbibes
faraway sunlight, carries
kindness to the stars
This is a haibun for DVerse, and Frank prompts us to write about the moon today! October has two full moons, on the 1st and the 31st. I am also linking to FOWC: Imminent.
The harvest moon is a little late, arriving Thursday. It will be worth the wait, since Halloween will also have a Hunter moon, joining in the trick-or-treating (or searching for some normalcy). By the light of two full moons, one sees a unique brightness rising.
bookending the month
full moons bind the days’ pages:
Once again, I have a response to Linda Kruschke’s paint-chip poetry, at the last minute. This is about how, this year, I had a bunch of plans and it’s all down the drain now. 🙂 I am also sharing this with MLMM’s Tale Weaver, because any attempt to plan this year has become an epic fail. Without furthr ado, these are our paint-chips:
January 2020: the year was a
Blank canvas of optimistic possibility,
A green flash to signal, “Go for it.”
March 2020: a rainstorm was brewing,
We began to become tongue-tied,
Under the sea of shocking surprises.
September 2020: somehow we have
Tumbleweeded through a surreal summer,
Crispy leaves and autumn colors are coming.
I am a glass of fresh-squeezed
Orange juice, filled with the pulp
Of pressurized emotions, in my skin.