Haibun: Unfazed

We call him “Chippy” although we know there is more than one. Chipmunks live, work and thrive beneath our yard, front and back. He likes to scurry across the narrow base of my wooden fence. In and out, he races between alternating planks of vulnerability and safety, darkness and light.

Now he sits, perched upon the corner of the aging cement porch, frozen in sunlight, meditating. This is his rooftop. Inches below him, where a piece of the old porch has crumbled, is the doorway to his home. He is miniature against the draping peach begonias, overgrown shrubs and my massive maple. A few leaves, curled and brittle have begun their descent in today’s soft breeze. I watch through the window to see how long it takes for him to flinch. He is transfixed, eyes upon the world. With his fortress close by, he stands guard.

beneath the same sun

we bury thoughts of Autumn

I share my shelter

Join us at 3 p.m. EST for Haibun Monday

dVerse Poets Pub

I am pleased to be your host as we consider the theme of shelter.

RAMblings on Faith

 

I’ve lost faith. Not in myself or any one person…but in society as a whole. We’ve truly outdone ourselves, haven’t we? Our power is devouring us. Self-destruction disguised as bits and bytes of betterment. Perhaps once we’ve surrendered the rest of our intelligence to a robotic regime, we’ll cycle back to playing with sticks and rocks. Building our own fires out of boredom ….just to see if we can. History repeats itself. We’ll sharpen our knives again instead of our minds. But will we ever sharpen our awareness? We have only scratched the surface of our abilities to evolve into humanity. On the contrary, we’ve regressed. We’ve even lost faith in friendships, walking on eggshells around social behaviours we’ve already mastered. Texting conversations that freeze, then flow again, with license to ignore as if the norm.

I have faith in potential. Before I allowed video games to sweep my children into a “Call of Duty”, we collected shells on the beach until the sun nestled on the horizon. Clouds were clouds. Facial recognition meant nothing more than counting freckles. Collecting precious smiles that burst into laughter over almost nothing. We traced the shape of the moon as the grass tickled our skin. I remember. They remember.

I have faith in possibilities. I see starving children no longer starving. I see the end of violence. I see lonely people surrounded by love. I see it all because it’s all there waiting for us to create. Much more rewarding, I would think , than superimposing fictional characters into a digital environment. You don’t need goggles. Just a good heart. I do have unwavering faith in God, but I fear he has lost faith in us.

 

lone seagull sets sail

sun waits patiently for more

waters uncharted

 

 

It’s Haibun Monday at dVerse Poets Pub and the topic is “faith”.  You are all welcome to join in. I am pleased to be your host. Doors open at 3 p.m. EST and this poetic prompt is open all week.

Image credit: pixabay.com

Ashen

 

 

I embrace the grey. Where pavement glistens in the rain. Where clouds paint every inch of sky in shades of loneliness. I am touched by the greys of nature, stones peppered in hues of silver, the undersides of lifeless leaves, glistening beach sand and broken twigs.  My eyes wander off clear cut paths to spot the fluff of squirrels’ tails or the fringe of a bird’s feather now fallen. An ancient tree speaks to me in somber tones, begging to share his story. Does he remember the forest floors of ancient times? Or is it all a foggy blur? I caress the rough, dappled bark of a walnut tree. It’s ok. I’d love you anyway. Grey takes me to a place where black and white, wrong and right can mix and mingle into maybes.

 

 

dull sky, sparrow spies

the grizzle drizzle of grey

open wings take flight

 

It’s Haibun Monday, open all week at dVerse Poets Pub. Bjorn has asked us to consider grey as a subject for our haibun, ” to bring grey into a personal (non-fictional) piece of prose. Add to that a haiku (with season and nature)”. Feel free to join in with us.

Urban Undertones

 

This town begs to be a city. Eclectic shops come and go. Dreams blossom and wilt. Still it swallows me whole sometimes. Just like it did when I was seventeen.  A few high rises line the river offering penthouse status, sparkles of blue and a clear view of another country. Seagulls circle over small boutiques, flea markets and the latest hang out for organic cuisine. I smirk at the English pub I used to frequent often with friends. The raw acoustic sound wraps itself around me like a familiar hug.  The old theater, now a venue for live performances is lit up like Vegas in vintage cinema letters. I pass the art gallery, a martini bar and a retro music store before finally reaching the library. This is the last stop before the scenery becomes a bit dicey. Or… you can make your way to the chemical plants, where this town hides the best of its big city lights.

 

I was small under fall of leaves

Colossal in the spring of youth

Shadowed in wake of winter

Summer sun, my only light

 

 

 

This week, we are taking our haibun to the city with a contemporary approach to the form. Bjorn shares all the details over at dVerse.  Hope to meet up with you there!

 

Nagame (Long Rain)

 

 

We begin the journey home from windy shores and seagulls galore. Hues of blue and grey ominously mingle on the horizon as patter becomes pelt against the windshield. My sunglasses hide pools of pain on the brink, mimicking the skies.  I am the passenger on these long drives, musing away miles, soaking in cimmerian clouds until I rain. These are moments for writing elegies of those still breathing. These are my dark secrets I dare share of time lost and obsessions with the inevitability of death. Maybe it is the monotonous rhythm of tires on wet pavement that plays to my melancholy heart. Is it any wonder that flowers grow up and rain falls down?

 

rain beats in doldrums

shrouded sun waits for downdrafts

torrential  tears

 

 

Toni leads our Haibun Monday prompt titled “50 Shades of Rain”. She shares with us the many artistic Japanese words for rain. Focusing on one of the words, we are to write a concise paragraph of non-fiction prose followed by a haiku about rain…how it makes us feel, the inconvenience of rain or the beauty of rain.  Haibun Monday is open all week. Feel free to join in!

 

 

 

 

Thoughtless Trails

 

There is always a trail, a place to regain pieces of me that I have lost. Today I set out on an unfamiliar path, craving the calm that never fails to elude me. Deep in these woodlands I am shadowed by my own muse. The trees speak to me in wordless ways. One in particular demands my attention and I reach out to caress battle scarred bark, running my fingers along ridges and grooves in silver tones. This is art, sculpted by time and elements. My mind wanders briefly to wonder why something so observable can be so overlooked. The soft percussion of a woodpecker wakens me from my philosophical thoughts. This is music, a sampling of Mother Nature’s sweet song. Looking down, I admire the gnarling of roots planted firmly but not afraid to be exposed and vulnerable. I sit down beside them, letting them take me to seed and soil, the simplicity of life, uninterrupted. I breathe in the essence of pine and become one with the earth.

 

rosin’ up the boughs                                                        

trees burst into silent song

forest floor sun dance

 

For Haibun Monday at dVerse Poets Pub, Toni (kanzensakura) shares with us some very interesting Japanese techniques for clearing our mind and has asked  us to write about our own favourite ways to rest and relax. Drop in, pull up a seat and enjoy some peaceful poetry.

By the Marshland

 

“But the beauty is in the walking — we are betrayed by destinations.”
― Gwyn Thomas

Not far from here, there is a trail, a precious passage to my own inner peace. This is where my heart sings. This is how I breathe.  My feet take to the winding path of the wetlands and I am liberated. Sun ribbons stream through tall prairie grasses to dance with shadows on my shoes. Yellow warblers cling sideways to the reeds, whistling and swaying to Spring’s gentle breeze. Damselflies hover over lily pads floating close to the pond shore. Oh to be a damselfly, weightless of the woes of this world.

The ducks and geese have made their annual return to the marsh. I still marvel at their innate ability to do so, after vacationing hundreds or even thousands of miles away. This is their home again and I am nothing more than a visitor, uninvited. I visualize the ripples of disruption I would cause if I dared to dangle one toe into their vested waters. Focusing my camera on lavender blue chicory and one bristly bumblebee, it occurred to me.  This delicate ecosystem thrives without me and in spite of me. This trail is the truth of life and I am humbled.

 

waterlilies pose

as footsteps softly mimic

the pulse of nature

 

This week for Haibun Monday, Bjorn has asked us to write a haibun “inspired by the concept of walking”. This is a week long prompt. Lots of time to join in and follow the poetry trail at dVerse Poets Pub.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Rain Gauge

Image Credit: Gabriella

 

He wandered west from the financial district destined for relief from the squirrel cage they called success. Grey skies merged with the concrete below his feet. Tiny droplets remained stoic for an instant before rolling like tears from his navy blue pea coat. The clouds erupted. Looking up, his forehead caught a colossal drop that had dared to dangle from the coffee shop overhang. He ran his index finger along the glossy storefront just for the sound or perhaps to startle the young girl sitting on the other side of the distorted glass. He pondered the vanilla latte and moved on.

No eye contact was made with the unshaven man huddled under wet cardboard on the corner. His conscience took hold of him as one Gucci oxford failed to miss a puddle. Turning around he knew his small gesture would be more about him than the one who was destitute. He handed him a twenty. The sky lit up suddenly exposing the contrast between his smooth, manicured hands and the grimy palms of the homeless man. He glanced quickly at the man’s face. Somewhere in one short gaze, he found himself.

 

Yesterday’s downpours

Today a soft shoe tap dance

Weathering the storm

 

Inspired by one of Gabriella’s beautiful photos for Haibun Monday at dVerse.

Smallest of Places

 

 

I find green in the smallest of places. It is not the mountain covered in triangular repetition of perfect pine that makes my heart flutter. It is not the river, churned and murky or hills that roll in shades of emerald and jade. It is the single blade of grass between my thumbs, tickling my lips as I blow gently through cupped hands. My eyes wander to the delicate veins of magnolia leaves as tiny aphids make their delicate climb. I reach to touch the green of neon moss blankets warming tree limbs, fallen and forgotten. I follow green in the iridescent glow of dragonfly wings dancing over the shallows. I cherish the green of tiny strawberries weaving on trellises, patiently waiting to ripen. As cerulean skies and yellow meadows magically merge in van Gogh’s “View of the Church of Saint-Paul-de-Mausole, I will still find green in the smallest of places.

 

 

Lost in fields of green
Four leaf clover at our feet
Gently we must walk

 

Written for Haibun Monday at dVerse Poet’s Pub. We have been inspired by the work of Vincent van Gogh.

Chasing Sunsets

 

We barely finish dinner of cauliflower and chickpea coconut curry, when you suggest we dash to the beach. The sky, like a southwestern painting of burnt orange and turquoise is obstructed by the stately maple tree in our back yard. Donning my fall jacket for the first time this year, I welcome the brisk, blustery air. My flip flops fight the downhill slope as I clutch our camera in one hand and my hair in the other. Somehow, I am surprised to see the lake lashing on tawny shores, oblivious to the solace of the setting sun. The clouds remind me of pieces of cauliflower we have just consumed, but these are now inked with the inevitable gloaming of day’s end. Still amazed by the infinity of the Great Lakes, you take to the camera, capturing all possible angles. I reminisce of similar spontaneous races to canyons in your enchanted land. Was it just for me? I think not, as I watch you take one last photo of gleaming sands soaking in orange.

 

Summer embraces fall
Celestial glow unfading
Reflections of love

 

 

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Written for Haibun Monday, a new addition to the schedule over at dVerse Poet’s Pub. This is my first attempt at writing a haibun, a combination of prose and haiku.