Floating in freedom - haiku

water birds peck at

broken floating shards of sky

rippling freedom

~~~

Flutterby song

flutterby wings

folded in prayer or song

ode to a leaf

~~~

flutterby wings

open in benediction

ode to a flower

~~~

December the 5th

had you your body

I would have called to say

“Happy Birthday”

your ‘Thank you”

would have come

with the deepest of love.

But only bodies are born

and then die

you live on

a spirit gentle

a presence warm and tender

a smile guileless

in some place

where dates don’t matter

or even words

and when thoughts fall away

your presence comes as

a soft fragrance

a gentle footfall

a touch soothing

On this day

what can I do

but be present to your presence

be mindful

of your unconditional love

my heart brimming

with utmost gratitude

~~~

Words - haiku

the page waits

the ink in the pen waits

to meet and make love

I, the matchmaker
the celebrant, the midwife
or just a witness
 
thus, words are born
and then set free like winged seeds
on a carefree wind

will they fall into
hearts made pure with silence

and bloom into joy?

~~~

Come unto joy - haiku

come unto me

in this vale of birdsong

let us lose ourselves

let us lose ourselves

the body is but a shell

the ego a lie

the ego a lie

the mind has been making up

let us let go

let us let go

of the mind, put it down

succumb to stillness

succumb to stillness

in this vale of nothingness

come unto joy

~~~

Birds rise from trees - haiku

birds rise from trees

in a symphony of song

winged arias

birds rise from trees

a trembling twig waves farewell

till dusk we part

birds rise from trees

carrying bits of tree spirit

rooted and flying

~~~

Forget-me-nots - haiku

forget-me-not, please

said Day to Night, in passing

the moon rose, rotund

solitary owl

calls out to a day unseen

forget-me-not, light

between the pages

turning into days and nights

pressed forget-me-nots

waves write parting notes
on the gently yielding sand
forget-me-not, shore
~~~

Bedecked - haiku

a bride bedecked

awaits bee consummation

flowering wattle

~~~

A letter in October

BY TED KOOSER

Dawn comes later and later now,   

and I, who only a month ago

could sit with coffee every morning   

watching the light walk down the hill   

to the edge of the pond and place   

a doe there, shyly drinking,

then see the light step out upon   

the water, sowing reflections   

to either side—a garden

of trees that grew as if by magic—

now see no more than my face,   

mirrored by darkness, pale and odd,

startled by time. While I slept,   

night in its thick winter jacket   

bridled the doe with a twist

of wet leaves and led her away,

then brought its black horse with harness   

that creaked like a cricket, and turned

the water garden under. I woke,   

and at the waiting window found   

the curtains open to my open face;   

beyond me, darkness. And I,

who only wished to keep looking out,   

must now keep looking in.

~~~

Wow!!! I mean, awesome!

Solitude and the myth of Daphne

New post - Daphne and Apollo

~~~

Wistful - haiku

the night drapes silence

on trees still agog with the

echoes of birdsong

~~~

Pots of colour - haiku

My tulips have all bloomed and are gorgeous :)

~~~

pots of colour

painted by earth, air, rain

the sun's pleased

~~~

Centrifugal

CENTRIFUGAL

by Douglas S. Jones 

The spider living in the bike seat has finally spun

its own spokes through the wheels.

I have seen it crawl upside down, armored

black and jigging back to the hollow frame,

have felt the stickiness break

as the tire pulls free the stitches of last night's sewing.

We've ridden this bike together for a week now,

two legs in gyre by daylight, and at night,

the eight converting gears into looms, handle bars

into sails. This is how it is to be part of a cycle—

to be always in motion, and to be always

woven to something else.

~~~

a bird dives - haiku

a bird dives

wings scattering light

a worm dies

a worm dies

turns into bird wings flight

earth meets sky

earth meets sky

hurtling through a space field

a pulsing orb

a pulsing orb

that appears and disappears

nothingness

~~~

Aatmasphere

Ok, so I started another blog -

Aatmasphere


~~~

An awesome way to make kids less self absorbed

We teach children how to measure and how to weigh. We fail to teach them how to revere, how to sense wonder and awe. --Harold Kushner

An awesome way to make kids less self absorbed

~~~

World Gratitude Day

Today is World Gratitude Day and I wrote a post on my new blog dedicated to all things Earthy ...


Down to Earth Life


Note to myself : now I must keep up the posts :)

Dances with trees - haiku

the wind scatters

leaf tunes, birdsong and moth wings

I dance with trees

~~~

 

Spring - haiku

spring comes stealthy

sap surging up bare branches

bud burst and bird song

in my heart core, words

break their long winter of soul

on page, blood spills

Spring strides susurrus

tossing mane of green

tinkling flowers

I welcome the sun

in joy, my heart keels over

old lover

~~~

~~~

Life and death

a moth crosses paths

with a roving blackbird

life and death

A  few thoughts I wanted to add to this haiku I posted yesterday.

Sometime ago, I was in the beans patch and something, quick as a flashing sword, flew past me, dived into the bean bushes and flew out. Much to my surprise, it was a blackbird with a struggling moth in its beak. It perched itself in the fence and proceeded to flick its head vigorously from side to side, perhaps in an attempt to hasten the moth’s demise. I don’t exactly know why it did this, but it seemed, to my human reasoning, that if it opened its beak to gulp it down, the moth, sensing release, would fly away. Then, when the moth stopped fluttering, it vanished down the bird’s throat in a series of gulps.

I must admit to being disturbed by this drama of the moth’s death. To gardeners, moths are important pollinators and are considered beneficial. But that is human reasoning, flawed as always. After I wrote the haiku, I looked at the scenario a bit more detachedly.

The moth died, but in death, did it not give life to the bird? Because of its death, the bird continues to live. So, life itself hasn’t ceased, it has just been transferred from one form to another. The cycle of life didn’t break, it just kept going, the moth living on as the bird. It is because of our human attachment to form and its apparent separateness that death causes us so much grief.

The other human fallacy that I harboured was the classification of ‘living’ and ‘non-living’ things. Science’s definition of ‘life’ is the ability to ingest, digest (as in food) and reproduce. By this definition things like water and sunlight are ‘non-living’ things. But without them, all life would cease to exist. We take in water (as part of out ingestion and digestion) and a hefty percentage of us comprises water, and while it is in us, it is considered ‘living’ but as soon as it exits our systems, it goes back to ‘non-living’. A bit unfair, from water’s point of view :) Not that it cares...:(

You wouldn’t consider a piece of iron ‘living’ yet small traces of iron is utterly essential to human life. The sand on the beach looks ‘non-living’, yet silicon in the human body contributes to health. So, could science’s definition of ‘life’ be called accurate? Or, is such a classification even necessary?

Life goes on seamlessly, with forms disappearing into one another, elements getting in and out of systems. From this point of view, the illusion of separation tends to get hazy. What emerges is the view that the whole universe (living and non-living, seen and unseen) is a vast, seamless, unending ocean of intelligence, in which waves arise, dimly seen as forms, they ride the crest and dissolve back into the ocean. A moth wave rises and melds into a bird wave. Human waves arise and dissolve. The whole is alive and is Life itself. In this scheme of things, there is no death. There is only Life and it is infinite.

And yes, we are that intelligence, not separate, but One. Briefly self-aware, as we ride the human wave.

~~~

Morning rituals – haiku

birds alight on trees

all wing and feather and song

expectant air

on a pale peach sky

wings draw hieroglyphs

God’s words

a moth crosses paths

with a roving blackbird

life and death

~~~

The unbearable urgency of life - haiku

words, weighted down

burdened with life's urgency

waiting to fly

maybe I should 

jump out of life's speeding train

into nothingness

caught as I am in 

this tale of my own making

like a moth

bedazzled by the 

illusion of light and life

flying towards death

as silence waits, 

still, underneath all things

warm and welcoming

~~~

Waiting for the sun - haiku

slivers of sunlight

melt snow into springs, dancing,

warbling light

calling, calling forth

sleeping kowhai buds

pastor bird

the buds must know

when to burst forth and blossom

quench thirsty throats

spring stirs lazy

in the sleeping earth’s loins

waiting for the sun

~~~

Dreamtime - haiku

scraps of desires
surface unbidden in sleep
beguiling


unwilling, blind
I walk through life’s dreamscape
wanting to waken


who is dreaming?
who is the watcher of dreams?
I and not I

~~~

This being alive

This being alive

is a thing to celebrate

notice how

the heart marches

beat by pounding beat

regardless of

dusk or dawn

calm or storm

relentless

an unseen

unstopping soldier

notice how

the breath pulls us

stride by stride

inhale by exhale

a spectral charioteer

horses unseen

this carriage temporal

sometimes weary

sometimes strong

notice how

each heartbeat

is a milestone

a silent victory

exulting in us

every second

each breath a stitch

and stitch by stitch

a life is sewn

how can we not celebrate?

knowing that

bits of stars

abide in us

waiting to reveal

celestial light

knowing our home

this blue jewel

is hurtling through space

in the company of giants

nestled in a galaxy

this being alive

is a thing of pain

notice how

dreams shatter

life crumbles

people leave

and people die

you fail and fall again

but this you know

at your very core

you are unbreakable

how can we not celebrate

when life waits within

to express itself

as love, as light

as grace

sit still

feel the life force

the inexplicable joy

that waits beneath

for the blossoming

this being alive

is a rising up, a setting out

a triumph over ennui and death

a casting off of darkness

a revealing of light

~~~

Stars - haiga

(photo taken - Wellington, 27th April 2014)

Poem of the Day : Rain

by Kazim Ali

 

With thick strokes of ink the sky fills with rain.

Pretending to run for cover but secretly praying for more rain.

Over the echo of the water, I hear a voice saying my name.

No one in the city moves under the quick sightless rain.

The pages of my notebook soak, then curl. I've written:

"Yogis opened their mouths for hours to drink the rain."

The sky is a bowl of dark water, rinsing your face.

The window trembles; liquid glass could shatter into rain.

I am a dark bowl, waiting to be filled.

If I open my mouth now, I could drown in the rain.

I hurry home as though someone is there waiting for me.

The night collapses into your skin. I am the rain.

 

~~~

The show

(100-word flash fiction)

THE SHOW

The lead guitarist was missing and the crowd was getting restive. Jerry, frantic, was about to improvise when there emerged an elderly man carrying a guitar case. He slowly walked over to Steve’s place.

“Steve couldn’t come.” He quietly answered Jerry’s angry, questioning glare. “I am his father. I’ve come to take his place. The show must go on, shouldn’t it?”

That night the guitar sang of pride, childhood, loss and triumph. It was spellbinding.

After they closed, Jerry invited Mr.Faulkner over for a drink.

“What happened to Steve?”

Mr.Faulkner’s tired face crumpled.

“He had a heart attack. He’s gone.”

~~~

Written for the amazing group Friday Fictioneers led by Rochelle. For the photo prompt below -

 

Poem of the Day : Earth Day

by JANE YOLEN

I am the Earth
And the Earth is me.
Each blade of grass,
Each honey tree,
Each bit of mud,
And stick and stone
Is blood and muscle,
Skin and bone.

And just as I
Need every bit
Of me to make
My body fit,
So Earth needs
Grass and stone and tree
And things that grow here
Naturally.

That's why we
Celebrate this day.
That's why across
The world we say:
As long as life,
As dear, as free,
I am the Earth
And the Earth is me. 

~~~

On the rocks

Today is Earth Day. Hope the Earth is happy with the way we are treating it.

(Akatarawa Forest, Wellington, February 2013)

~~~
 

The fading light

(shot at Canberra, Australia, Nov 2013)

Poem of the day : Christ Human

Descending Theology : Christ Human


BY MARY KARR

    Such a short voyage for a god,
and you arrived in animal form so as not
    to scorch us with your glory.
Your mask was an infant’s head on a limp stalk,
    sticky eyes smeared blind,
limbs rendered useless in swaddle.
    You came among beasts
as one, came into our care or its lack, came crying
    as we all do, because the human frame
is a crucifix, each skeletos borne a lifetime.
    Any wanting soul lain
prostrate on a floor to receive the poured sunlight
    might—if still enough,
feel your cross buried in the flesh.
    One has only to surrender,
you preached, open both arms to the inner,
    the ever-present embrace,
which props one up, out reaches every grasp.
    It’s in the form embedded,
love adamant as bone. The miracle is not just
    you became us but also
those breathed-in moments allotted to us each
   (even poor Brother Judas),
when one relinquishes self and will and want.
     Then you're laid bare in us,
and for some briefly gentle eyeblink
    we bloom and are you.

               ~~~

The fitting - haiku

I try on poems

like clothes to see which fits

my soul

~~~

Music – haiku

-->

angel dust, rain song

the beat ‘neath butterfly wings

Mozart

~~~

Nature - haiga

The spinster

(100-word flash fiction)

THE SPINSTER

1994

She finds the abandoned baby one dark evening in the bushes outside her house. Her orphan, spinster heart overflowing with love she herself has never known, pours it into his tiny life.

2004

Like a tidal wave, his ‘real’ parents crash land, accuse her of ‘kidnapping’, threaten to get her arrested, finally leave with him, leaving her lost, broken and crumpled like a wasted ruin. She picks herself up and plods on.

2014

She is late returning to an empty home from her retirement party. As she pushes open the gate, a young man steps out of the shadows.

~~~

Written for the amazing group Friday Fictioneers led by Rochelle. For the photo prompt below -

Dead locks - haiga

After the rain - haiga

Beeline - haiga

Flight - haiku

brown and dusty

the ground erupts on the wingtips

of sparrows

~~~

Rain - haiga

Homecoming - Friday Fictioneers

(100 word flash fiction)

HOMECOMING

He stood alone on the dusty little railway platform. The train, having sucked people into its metal belly, had rattled off. Where was his father?

Disappointed, he climbed into the solitary taxi. It was night when they reached his remote hamlet. When the driver stopped unexpectedly in the village square, he began to protest.

Suddenly, the place burst into light. Festooned with dried rice stalks, the square erupted with fireworks and the cheers of the entire village. His father stood beaming and his mother rushed forward to embrace him.

He had returned after 10 years, the hamlet’s first qualified doctor.

~~~

P.S. Wanted to write something positive this week after all the sad stories I’ve been writing :) but it seems it has come out rather flat :(

Written for the amazing group Friday Fictioneers led by Rochelle. For the photo prompt below -

Autumn - haiku

scorch marks

from a long ago summer

autumn heals

~~~

The tree
must want to kiss the earth
autumn leaves

~~~

 

Blackberry picking - haiga

Rambling river - haiga

Cherry tomatoes - haiga

Birthday present - haiku

we stopped the clocks

and slept for an extra hour

birthday present

~~~

 

the trees shake loose

their autumn leaves on me

birthday present

~~~

 

passing years

bestow hard won wisdom

birthday present

~~~

Prelude - haiku

nights glide in

their cloaks trimmed with cold

prelude to winter

~~~

Autumn sonata - haiga

Lights! Camera! Action!

(100-word flash fiction in poem form) 


Lights! Camera! Action!

How ardently she wished
to shut out those words
that followed her everywhere,
into the bath, into her dreams,

that pecked at her brain
like a cerebral woodpecker,
from age 3 to age 18
from child-star to super-star.

So, first she invited over
a deadly little virus,
it took with it her hearing
and most of her voice.

But she was too famous,
her mother too ambitious
the voices didn’t stop
the roles kept coming.

Then came the fall-
it cut up her face, broke
some bones, nothing
plastic surgery couldn’t fix

Finally, the fire did it…..

~~~

This week’s entry for Friday Fictioneers, that amazing group led and prompted by Rochelle :) The prompt is the following image -

Dawn - haiku

dawn
light breaks through night's curtain
peeping Tom

~~~

day breaks
night unfolds its embrace
a seedling sprouts

~~~

melting darkness
shows you that too much light
will hurt

~~~

April the 1st

I read somewhere
that time is a trick
not at all linear
or orderly
like soldiers would be
in a march-past,
but is rather like a sheaf
of pages piled up on top
of each other
our tomorrows stacked
on our yesterdays
like heavy burdens
of possibilities.

Today,
I dived into that buried pile,
assumedly accessible,
and surfaced on the page
of an yesteryear me,
all blush and innocence,
with a heart that had not yet
learned to distrust,
whose smile still seeped
into lucid eyes
and who is clueless
about how to shape
possibility into reality.

What do I tell
this past version of me?

I then wonder
of all the possible futures
I could have had
why I choose the page
I am now on
and if I had chosen differently
would I be in another sheaf?

or did I even have a choice?

Is it time that tricked me
or is it life?

I stand outside
and gaze at the stars
sliding slowly across the sky
and time trips me up again.

The light that I see
is not the star
but a mere memory of it,
the light that left it
so many light years ago,
by a trick of time
reaching me now,
a ghost, nothing else,
a faded celebrity,
a beautiful echo
that chose to fall
on today’s page.

And then,
everything shifts
and dissolves
like illusionary shadows.
Time is nothing but this moment
and life is happening nowhere
but in this moment.

And April the 1st
is just a label.

~~~

Parasite tales

Behavior control, Nature's way ....

The trees

(100-word flash fiction for Friday Fictioneers)

THE TREES

The trees have taken over the earth. The humans thought they were on top of the pyramid. But all it took was one storm. Unknotted by lightning, unrolled by thunder, and rain. Unrelenting rain. The humans got buried under their own debris. The earth had turned into water, a liquid tomb, which softly sucked at all that flesh.

When it stopped, there were worms everywhere. In eye sockets that once had dreamt dreams, chest cavities where had throbbed hearts, pelvises that had borne generations. The trees had eaten the rest.

Their trunks are now beginning to look like human limbs.

~~~

100-word flash fiction for Friday Fictioneers at Rochelle’s. Written for the image prompt below.

Poem of the day - Up on top

by Olav H. Hauge

After stumbling a long time over impossible trails
you are up on top.
Hardship didn't crush you, you trod it
down, climbed higher.

That's how you see it. After life has tossed you
away, and you ended up on top
like a one-legged wooden horse on a dump.
Life is merciful, it blinds and provides illusions,
and destiny takes on our burden:
foolishness and arrogance become mountains and marshy places,
hate and resentment become wounds from enemy arrows,
and the doubt always with us becomes cold dry
rocky valleys.

You go in the door.
The pot lies upside down in the hearth,
it sprawls with hostile black feet.

Wind - haiku

the flowers bend

the plants bend, the tree, alas!

gets uprooted

~~~

footprints tremble

up the surface of the lake

mischievous wind

~~~

gusts of memories

run amok in the present

devastation

~~~

russet, brown, orange

chase each other on the grass

autumn windfall

~~~

The latticed window

(100-word flash fiction)

THE LATTICED WINDOW

She stood on the road and looked up at the latticed window, seeing it for the first time from the outside, thinking how beautiful it looked.

She had found herself on the inside one bleak, moonless night, a child bride at 13, an elderly man’s fifth wife. 16 years of hell had followed.

She had been imprisoned in the house, not been allowed to step outside, not even when her father died.

That’s when she had decided to escape. The others were fellow prisoners, all married to the jail-keeper. He had to go.

All it had taken was a pillow.

~~~

100-word flash fiction for Friday Fictioneers at Rochelle’s .  Written for the image prompt below -

Begonia - softly lit

(100-word flash fiction)

No

As she walks over the wooden bridge, the planks creak. It seems they are trying to say something, but she puts that thought aside, as she recalls the time, when as a child she had dived into the deep end of the pool. It had been so beautiful underwater, so quiet. She could have stayed there forever. But they had pulled her out, made her breathe again.

This time she hopes no one finds her. That she can stay underwater forever, having to breathe no more. When she realises with a start, the planks are saying, “no, no, no ….”

~~~

Friday Fictioneers prompt by Rochelle. Write a 100-word flash fiction piece based on a photo.

 

Photo copyright - Adam Ickes