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

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