With these longer day, and the filling of the trees, Spring is on its way. The rose bush turns green, and burnished amber with leaves, just waiting to bloom. A couple of haiku for today’s daily prompt.
The days get longer, a little more light at night, a little more life.
In the morning I woke to find you watching from the window, dressing gown pulled tight as the snow came in drift and flurries against the glass. Next-door’s cat had already asserted itself across the garden. One thin set of paws from corner to corner, from rose bush to compost bin, long and straight. I lie there, still softened by sleep and content to see the tracks fill with snow through the calmness in your eyes. We’ll stay like this, in silence. Until the sun has risen high enough for the snow to melt and the birds to brave to skies and next doors cat returns from hunting with mice or vole. Until it rouses you from the window and brings you back to bed, where I will lie waiting for you. Wonderland winters stay only in the present. They end too quickly. This prompt from dVerse Poets has been rolling around in my head all week and more specifically I’ve been trying to work out how to write something less dark than my first …
Morning red crept in, over the screen of fencing. Languid, late and loose.
Yesterday is but today’s memory, and tomorrow is today’s dream. Kahlil Gibra They called her Daydream Girl. Eyes, tucked away in the letters of books, spine crackled and binding frayed. She was music, tripping up over loose pavement stone in the hopes of digging out stories long ago buried in the sands of time. Her hands were skeleton keys pushed into every lock on sunken chests pulled up from abandoned rib-cages. Took care not to hurt the crustaceans as she pulled them away mail-link by mail-link until only the under armour remained. She poured laughter down my throat and burnt out my lungs with song. Left me bellowing misty dragons into the night. Ran my hands across the tempo of her chest and told me to dance with the beat. Ba-dum. Ba-dum. Ba-dum. They will not tell me where to find her again. These words are brittle, there is nothing of you here and I am tired. http://dversepoets.com/2015/10/05/haibun-monday-2/ I wrote this piece and realised that it has a lot of similarities to last night/this morning’s …
Dressing gown armour against the damp morning haze. Must not miss the bins.
Leaves fall this season. I’ll watch trees shake off their coats, face the winter bare.
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 Written below are my entries for DVersePoets’ most recent prompt. Written By Grace from Bodhirose’s Blog, the challenge is to write a haiku or tanka in the theme of Jisei. Check out her fantastic post about them on the DVerse Poet’s Pub here! ——————– Jisei – A Tanka You can fall further than your heart would have believed into your own mind. It eats you alive this thing, mind, body and soul, all gone. Jesei – A Haiku In part it’s for you, all these words scattered around, they will outlast me.
Close all the windows, wouldn’t want neighbours to hear dying buffalo.
Too many words left, to write, study and compile. So flowers instead.