The Reality of Snow

For Kerry’s Art Flash/55: A graphite sketch called “Autumn Breath” by Jason Limberg, Michigan USA.  A 55 for the prompt. For Sunday’s Poetry Pantry.

The Reality of Snow
“I wonder if the snow loves the trees and fields, that it kisses them so gently?” – Lewis Carroll, Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland & Through the Looking-Glass

We are the last of our line.
I fear my brother the next full moon –
the snow will be falling –
like stars in the woods
filling the darkness.
nibbled bits of branches in our stomachs
as we slowly starve.
we lie back-to back for warmth –
snow, unceasing snow.
until it covers us
and we sleep


“Autumn Breath”
Jason Limberg
Used With Permission

The Architect

For Sunday Muse BlogSpot. Shay is the guest poster of the image this week.


The Architech
“I’m a dreamer. I have to dream and reach for the stars, and if I miss a star then I grab a handful of clouds.” – Mike Tyson

out of the mist the cabin emerges –
like the village of Brigadoon.
When it first began appearing
the pup wasn’t even born yet.
Now it is adult and sits at my side.
Sometimes I reach down and stroke him
and his tail wags and his eyes smile.
Soon we will fade into the mist again.
When we reappear,
the pup will be an older adult,
like me. The trash bin will never be filled
and the moon will be full.
My pup and I will take a break
and walk around in the mist
and return to the cabin for honey tea.

 

The Architech by Erik Johansson

Haibun: Moon Ladder

Today is quadrille Monday at dVerse. A quadrille is a poem of exactly 44 words sans title, using the word choice of the poet giving the prompt. Today Kim is our lovely pubtender and the word of her choice is “fret” or a form of the word.  I am writing a haibun – a Japanese prosimetric form consisting of a paragraph of non-fiction and ended with a seasonal haiku.

Haibun:  Moon Ladder
“Don’t tell me the moon is shining; show me the glint of light on broken glass.” ― Anton Chekhov

The night is warm – it’s the beginning of summer. The full strawberry moon glows slightly pink, reflected on the ocean. I wish I could climb the moon ladder to the stars.
warm summer night –
the ocean frets at the shore
slowly wearing it away

Haibun: Moon like cream

For Kim’s prompt over at dVerse. It is Quadrille Monday Today she delights us with “rich” and all the meanings of the word. I offer a Haibun in the manner of Basho.  a quadrille is a poem of exactly 44 words sans title. A haibun is a true accounting of prose ended with a seasonal haiku.

Haibun: Moon Like Cream
“The stars are brilliant at this time of night
and I wander these streets like a ritual I don’t dare to break
for darling, the times are quite glorious.” Charlotte Ericksson

The overwhelming smell of honeysuckle wrapped around my head. I stared up at the blue flower moon and inhaled deeply. The moon is the colour of rich country cream – double delights on this night.
honeysuckle
dipped in  the rich cream
of the full moon

The Moon on the ocean

For Bjorn’s prompt on dVerse Poets Pub. Today he explores the sonnet. I have written a modern free form sonnet for the prompt as rhymes and I don’t play well together.Also posting on Poets United Poetry Pantry.

The Moon on the Ocean
The moon lies upon the ocean –
a sleeping dragon curled about itself,
one eye half open observing the world below.
Snow falls like meteors – a shower of cold fire
doused in the black water heaving itself
Upon the shore. This moon is red as blood –
The dragon’s eye carnelian in its glow.
Bits of phosphorus twinkle on the sand.
A crab washes ashore and walks a few paces
before being swept back into the blackness again.
Farther from the shore early breaking waves
show white in the blackness and ladders
from the moonshine track back to the moon
undulating gently upon the water. The
moon on the ocean is a mysterious thing.

Wolf Moon

For Open Link Night at dVerse. happy holidays to you all and happy new year!Wolf Moon
“As I always like to say, good is good forever.” Anthony Bourdain

the wolf moon begins to rise
shattered into pieces
by black branches
like a sky mounted mirror.
branches begin to whisper
tossed by high flying breezes
sounding like windchimes made from seashells,
small animal bones, broken glass –
The wolf moon crouches in the sky
sniffing the smell of the wind.

Hatsuyuki: Full Moon Snow Dance

For my prompt over at Real Toads:  Stepping into the void.  In which we learn about the enso, the circle, drawing the circle.  The void of the inner circle, empty and yet full.  The different aspects of ma – the dimensions of the void.  Zen Buddhists often draw the enso as a daily exercise to center themselves.  It should take only a breath or two to draw the circle.  Come visit.  Learn about the enso, learn about you.   Here is the link to Toads: http://withrealtoads.blogspot.com/2018/09/step-into-void.html

*Hatsuyuki:  Full Moon Snow Dance
Snow swirling in the wind
whispering in my ear –
“Dance with me to my silent music
Let me stir your blood –
our private dance,
only the moon will see –“
All white covers the ground
The trees, the roads, the houses.
Flat white glowing in the full moon,
flattening out the shadows,
one dimensional landscape.
I step out onto the snow,
breathe in deeply the sweet freezing air.
The moon glows, making the snow cover shimmer.
I twirl in the snow and laugh.
Arms held wide
I begin our white hot rhumba.
The moon, the snow and me.
I whisper to the snow and the moon.
This is our secret dance.

*Hatsuyuki is Japanese for first snow.  An even viewed with almost holy overtones

August Moon

For Suman’s midweek challenge at Poets United. We are to write a poem about poeming. Also posting on dVerse’s OLN.

August Moon
Under the full August moon
I listen to the cicadas singing.
Their rasping and sawing pulls apart
the silence like an old woman
pulling apart the curtains of her bedroom window.
I sit on the back steps listening
to their music.
*Amanogawa flows by silently.
In my head
the poem begins to form.

*Amanogawa – Japanese for River of Heaven or, the Milky Way

copyright kanzensakura

 

Painted in Tones of Argent

For the weekly 55.  When I wrote this, my mother was dying. She has since died.

Painted in Tones of Argent
My backyard sleeps under
the full moon like a drowned Atlantis.
I sit on my back steps inhaling
the scents of honeysuckle and
a whiff of pot from my neighbors’-
A faint scent of petrichor:
the storm breaks
weeping on the trees.
My mother is dying.

Kuroi to Suzume

Today is Tuesday Platform at Real Toads – we can post one poem of our choice. Rommy has told us of how she and her husband met and are celebrating 23 years of marriage! She is asking what interests drew us to our lovers/husbands/spouses/mates? I was 25 when I met my Black Dragon, my Japanese lover. He was 35 and a forensic pathologist and instructor in Kendo and kantana. I am of course interested in all things Japan and have been since I was six. I have visited Japan many times and at several points, followed in Basho’s footsteps. My lover taught me the culture, the history, the language of his country, honoring the changing seasons. We were together 10 years and visited several times his home in the mountains, Hakone, and then he returned to Japan. I did not go with him. I always thought of him as Black Dragon – kuroi ryu and myself as a sparrow beside him – suzume. This haibun is an old one and one I have shortened and reworked for future publication.  I follow the classic form which means it is non-fiction rather than made up. I hope you all enjoy.  The first full moon is of course the first full moon that appears in early spring – mangetsu no haru.


Black dragon and Sparrow

“Come, let me show you” – Indeed the spring moon was full and lit the yard Like a klieg. Although in jeans and tee shirt, he still looked lethal and royal and somehow the katana and wakazashi tucked into the makeshift obi around his waist did not look ridiculous. Hands arm and dry, he took my hand and pulled me outside into his yard – “such tiny hands you have” and he smiled his singularly sweet smile down at me. In the gravel place, between the pond for his nishikigoi and the karesansui, he pulled me. Always when he touched me, heat and electricity flowed from my heels to the top of my head, always drawing me closer to him. The song of steel as he pulled the katana clear – the sound to my ears like the sound the scales of a dragon would make as it moved across the earth.
Standing behind me his arms enclosed me and he placed the sword in my hands – like this and wrapped my hands around the hilt and now, hold it like this as he moved my arms into position and corrected my stance and how I held the sword. Move with me…awkward at first and then like magic it seemed, I was moving with him. Beneath that huge moon the black dragon and the sparrow began their dance. The moon drawing us together, warmed by each other, our breaths frosted in the cold of an early spring night. We could not move from that place. The earth held us captive as the moonlight pinned us in place. Who knew that gravity was heat and electricity? Who knew that gravity was choosing not to move, to stay suspended in one place?

spring night warmed
only by the first full moon –
tides and lovers rise

Haibun: The Grey

Haibun Monday at dVerse.  Bjorn is our host and enjoins us to think of grey.

The Grey
I am a porch sitter from ‘way back. I sit on the steps of our back porch in all weathers and watch the night. The last full moon was bright. The light changed the world into shades from ash to argent – trees were blacker shapes against the black starry sky and the lawn was palest silver. An old photograph it looked to be. I walked around the yard clothed in grey – the dark grey shrubs, the light silver of dried grass, the middle tones of my skin. The whole world had been transformed into grey by the magic of the moonlight.

I went back to the steps and sat. The frost glittered in the moonlight like faceted hematite. Stretching out under the moon like a grey tabby cat, the lawn flexed and flowed down to the woods. As I watched this silent grey night, from the old potting shed came a small black and white cat followed by two young kittens. I held my breath and watched them go the plate where I had earlier placed food. They didn’t notice me at all, silent and still. I watched as they ate their fill and then returned to the potting shed. A bit later, a red fox crossed the yard at a trot, intent upon his own business looking neither to the right or left of him. The grey holds so many secrets. I get to watch them all unfold – like an old silent movie. When dawn began to come, the world was transformed into lighter grey – everything the same color. I stood up stiffly and went back into the house to awake my husband for work. The inside of the house was warm. The lace curtains in the bedroom changed into a solid sheet of grey, the patterns of the lace growing together. My husband’s face was still and calm, deep into sleep. I gently touched him to awaken him. In the grey pre-dawn, he pulled the quilt over his head and went back to sleep.
grey of winter night –
the moon changes all the dross
into purest silver

stock photo

Full Moon Grace

Today Paul is hosting at the dVerse Pub. He is asking us to write about grace.  Happy New Year to you all. May we all be blessed with grace.  This is also for Sanaa at Real Toads.

Full Moon Grace
the night is bitter cold:
minus one degree farenheit.
I watch the first full moon of 2018 rise –
a wolf moon –
sitting on my back steps
I blend into the shadows.
out of the deeper shadows comes a ginger cat
followed hesitantly by a black and white cat.
hey tentatively look around and
approach the pan holding food.
I do not know where these cats came from.
It doesn’t matter.
They need food. I supply it.
The neighbor behind me earlier
this month shot two cats I had been feeding.
they were sons of Nobody’s Cat.
He also shot a neighbor’s dog
and another neighbor’s cat.
Rage as cold as this night swept through me.
I called the police.
They investigated.
This human will go on trial tomorrow.
Justice will be had.

But….
I wish for grace to fall upon us all
as the moonlight washes the night in silver,
I wish for grace in the new year
to all creatures, all animals, all humans.
I wish for justice.
I pray for grace.
The cats fade away, full of food
to wherever they have found a place to keep warm.
Grace be unto you,
I whisper.

 

chiaroscuro

an anthology of poetry. I am included!  This can be purchased from Amazon both in the US and the UK.

 

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