The dance

I wake up to dancing dappled sunlight.

The sky has forgotten
last night's thunderstorm.
But not the mother bird
whose nest has fallen.

Yet seeds will sprout at that spot
among the knitted twigs
and broken egg shells.

Life moves from form to form.

I only need to sit back and
watch the play of illusions.

Like the playful sunbeams
dancing gaily on my face.

~~~ ~~~

The Rainstorm

The wind howled through the night flinging raindrops against windowpanes and bending trees. The rain came and went like noisy guests partying on the rooftop. Needless to say, I didn't sleep. I lay there listening to the music of the heavens and conjuring up haiku. 😀


THE RAINSTORM

Thousands of berserk
horses leaping through the night.
I, drenched in rapture.

Seams of bulging clouds
Crackling bursting through the night.
I, cross stitched with joy.

A wet wind howls a
Sad litany through the night.
I, mute with delight.

--------------------------------

Today, the sun is out and my front yard is looking freshly washed and happily smiling :D

😀

Day

Day - tanka

The sun slides across

the skin of the day in a

hot, searing caress.

What can I do but sigh in

voluptuous contentment?

~~~

NaPoWriMo 26 - Kennings

For day 26, some kennings. Bjorn at the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads presented the concept of Kennings. Or compound noun combinations.

My impromptu attempt :)

~~~

A leaf-fall. A leaf
falls on to the forest floor.
Beyond that, silence.

~~~

A heart-knock. Someone
knocks on my heart boarded up.
Beyond that, silence.

~~~

A tune-lilt. Lilting
tunes slowly take me apart.
Beyond that, silence.

~~~

A death-wish. Dying
to the past my only wish.
Beyond that, silence.

~~~

NaPoWriMo 25 - Question

For NaPoWriMo day 25, a question

Silence - haiku

Silence always taunts
me with this one question,
what are you doing here?

~~~

NaPoWriMo 23 - Autumn

For day 23, a haibun.

AUTUMN

As I enjoy the colours of autumn, it also reminds me to let go of old paradigms, worn and tattered beliefs, past-its-expiry-date relationships, outdated concepts that no longer serve. Yes, it's hard. For don't we all love the old and comfy, whether it be things or thoughts. The security blanket of the tried and tested.

Autumn sings hymns of
dissolution. Quiet death.
Spring smiling sleeps.

So, just like trees need to let go of the old and dying, lay bare their branches and go through a period of rest and slumber, for new buds to spring forth and life to begin anew, we need to empty ourselves of the old and outworn, so that life can replenish us with the fresh and the new.

~~~

NaPoWriMo 22 - Homecoming

For NaPoWriMo 22, a poem celebrating Earth Day.

Homecoming - tanka

It is always  pure
pleasure. Walking on grass, leaves, 
the bare-bodied earth.

As though my body-soul knows 
it has come home to Mother.

~~~

NEW YEAR’S DAY

Lying on a hammock under

trees brimming with summer

I gaze at the undersides of leaves

and birds’ nests. An inverted

green dome.  A cathedral of calm.

Caressed by breezes laced with

the fragrance of wood smoke,

jasmine and river-breath. Trees

drop their leaves and birds their

song. Little gifts of benediction.

The sun through the leaf-lattice

twinkles like bits of broken, yellow

glass, like the deity in a stained

glass window, playful not solemn,

playing hide-and-seek with me.

Blissfully unaware, unmindful

that on its third satellite the

inhabitants have broken time

into pieces and labelled them

for convenience and celebration.

And so, we send fireworks into

the air and make resolutions,

forgetting, quite ungratefully 

it is the fireball in the sky that

got us through yet another orbit.

~~~

Birthday - tanka

one early spring dawn

the sun bloomed as I was born

I too Christ be

I celebrate this knowledge

in deep stillness and wild joy

~~~

Sensuous Sundays - Brewing nostalgia

Brewing nostalgia - tanka

the pot on the stove

bubbles up aromas from

childhood. Warm, soothing

comforting, like Mother’s touch

like a loyal puppy lick

~~~

Sensuous Sundays - Kiwifruit

Kiwi fruit - haiku

mini bursts of

sunshine turn into honey

did I hear a bee?

~~~ 

image source - internet

Sensuous Sundays - Fresh sheets

Fresh sheets - haiku

lying on sheets, crisp

with sunlight, redolent of

sky and fragrant winds

~~~

Sensuous Sundays - Wildflowers

Wildflowers - haiku


raindrops on my face,
pinpricks of cool. Like tiny
desert wildflowers

~~~

Death poems

On dVerse Poets Pub Gayle sets the challenge :  To write in haiku or tanka style to the theme of Jisei (Japanese death poems).

Gayle also says, "In ancient Japanese, Chinese and Korean cultures, a practice was used at the time of death to capture the last words spoken. This practice was called jisei (in Japan) or death poem and is the “farewell poem to life.” Jisei was written by monks, samurai, the literate and poets of these cultures. One of the earliest recorded jisei dates to 686 C.E. (Common Era) or in Christian terms, B.C. (before Christ) with the death of Prince Otsu who was the son of Emperor Temmu of Japan."

Japanese death poems - tanka

~~~

I hear the sea sing

in my veins, of homecoming.

Save your salty tears

for life and its sorry tales,

not me. I am going home.

~~~

This vain, heavy shell

I no longer need, fading

softly like daylight

surrenders to night, sighing

soft promises of return.

~~~

This shell will return

to its womb. My sinews will

turn into roots, limbs

into tree-trunks. And my song

will trill out from the tree tops.

~~~

Soon, I will be rain,

falling on seeds, springing them

into life. Lusty,

fecund, virile, alive. Death

is a mere wisp of a veil.

~~~

Sensuous Sundays - Shower

Shower - haiku

the shower hisses
water kisses turn into
a liquid embrace

~~~