Haibun Monday: Komorebi

I am doing the prompt for Haibun Monday over at dVerse Poets Pub. I have given the Japanese word komorebi to get people started. The word means light filtered through trees, specifically in spring or summer. I am asking them to write about the season-between-the-seasons, specifically summer into fall.  A classic haiku must end the classic haibun form. A classic haiku must have these elements: a season word,a cutting word, and 5-7-5 syllable form. I am not being particular about the number of syllables but I am being picky about the season word being part of the haiku. If there is no season word, you don’t have a haiku. You have a senryu or micropoem.

 

copyright kanzensakura

Komorebi
The cicadas are loud tonight. They clack and thrum, rattle and hum. The night is slightly cool and the dew smells of fallen leaves. Soon the cicadas will burrow down into the earth to sleep over fall and winter. An owl flies overhead, hunting for prey. I hear it in the woods accompanied by a squeal – some creature has become dinner. Small yellow sunflowers peek from the hedge and the butterfly bush has put out its last bloom. The blackberries have all been eaten by birds, squirrels and chipmunks and the bushes are bare except for leaves which are slowly fading to red – here, here, and here. Only the sunflowers have color in this deepened longer night. It is that strange season between seasons – not summer and not yet fall.  The days are getting shorter, the nights are getting longer.

I stood in my woods today. It is my church, my temple, my cathedral. The light filtering through the leaves give it a holy, hushed atmosphere. Komorebi – the Japanese word for light filtered through leaves 木漏れ. Between the world and the word are three small shapes, the signs for ”tree,” ”escape,” and ”sun.” A beautiful word. I look up and a few of the old oaks are beginning to turn their leaves from deep green to pale yellow. They are still holding tight, refusing to fall. The dead leaves underfoot are damp from the recent rain. They have a moist earthy smell rather than the dry spicy smell of autumn. I brush some of the leaves aside to uncover a large block of velvet green moss. Soon, the little flags they grow to reproduce will turn bright red. A small snake slithers under my boot. I watch it disappear into the safe place of ancient fallen trees. The cicadas are quiet today. But soon they will begin their clack and thrum, their rattle and hum. The moon is full this cool night surrounded by a halo of clouds. Autumn is taking the long road traveling to here.

voice of cicadas –
silent now in the stand of
pine trees on the hill

tani bucho 1817

dVerse Poets Quadrille Monday

I am sort of back from my hiatus but not fully. I couldn’t resist this prompt word though from De for dVerse’s Monday Quadrille prompt – storm. A quadrille is a poem of exactly 44 words, not including the title, in which you must use the prompted word.

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 next door.
A faint scent of petrichor:
the storm breaks.
My mother is dying.

Haibun Monday – The Shadow Knows

Monday I am doing the prompt for Haibun Monday over at dVerse Poets Pub. Years ago I read In Praise of Shadows (陰翳礼讃 In’ei Raisan), an essay on Japanese aesthetics by the Japanese author and novelist Jun’ichirō Tanizaki. It deeply influenced me and caused my immersion into the Japanese culture. So I am prompting people to write about shadows today in classic Haibun form – actual shadows, shadows in our lives, walking after dark in the full moon, the fireplace flickering in a dark room, shadows of clouds racing over a meadow, mountain or lake. Come visit us and find out the reason for this quote by Jun’ichirō Tanizaki: “Were it not for shadows, there would be no beauty.”  The Pub opens at 3:00 pm EST

Moonlight, kendo, and love
Midsummer. The moon was full to bursting and it lit up our bedroom like a klieg light. My lover was sleeping soundly, softly snoring. I was rolling from one half of the bed to the other – the night was hot and moist and redolent with the smells of roses, jasmine, gardenias, magnolia….the rich musk of freshly mown grass floated over the flower smells and made me sneeze. I gave one look at the sleeping man, muttered “bah” and got out of bed. I looked down into the garden in the back yard – the scene was almost surreal, flat with the look of no contrasting shadows. Every detail stood out in sharp detail. I pulled on a tee shirt and shorts and went downstairs. I decided if nothing else, I would practice some kendo forms I had learned the previous week. With my shinai in hand, I began. I started to sweat but continued. Soon I relaxed and to get into the motions. Clouds blew across the surface of the full moon and shadows drifted across the koi pond and the graveled area. A soft breeze began cooling me and I closed my eyes and drifted with the forms. Suddenly, my arms were gripped by strong hands and my lover began to improve on my motions.

I turned to look at him. Taller than the average Japanese man with a beautiful swooped nose and full lips. I loved his mouth and his nose. He smiled. “Dancing in the shadows?” I melted into him and we began the kendo dance. Shadows began to shift as the moon began to dip in the sky. The branches of trees grew longer and one of the koi broke surface, thinking the moonlight on the water was a bug. I watched the shadows from the moon slowly glide along the walkway. We became still, me wrapped in his arms. “I love the shadows on a full moon night,” he whispered. “I love you on a full moon night.” And he started to caress me. Soon we disappeared into the shadow of the dogwood tree, making love in our garden. Fully sated at last, we went to sleep on the grass each holding the other close. We woke just before grey dawn and lay there looking at the sun rise. The koi began to roil the surface of the pond clamoring for food. I fed them and watched them as they swam in and out of my reflection. Shadows shifted as the sun rose higher. I kissed him. “I love you” I said. And he smiled.
flowers scent the air –
midsummer dreams – shadows on
a pond – koi jumps high.

First Frost – Haibun

Today is Open Link Night at the d’Verse Poetics Pub. Gayle is acting as bartender. Open Link means any poem can be submitted. Stop by for a visit and read some of the poems linked. There is no prompt so there will be a variety of offerings! On a cool autumn night, get warmed up by reading inspired poets’ work or, submit one of your own.  http://dversepoets.com/2015/10/15/dverse-poets-open-link-night-158/

copyright Kanzensakura aka Toni Spencer

First Frost
Thinking of you, always of you. Last night a bright ring around a full moon. Hazy clouds conceal stars but allow the moon to shine forth. Silent deer pass through my yard casting only a slight glance my way. They are well acquainted with this night roaming human and glide past me as the haughty buck leads his harem to the almost stripped garden next door. I close my eyes for just a moment and when I open them again, I find frost has formed, silent as diamond dust, upon the grass and fallen leaves and branches. Dawn is near.

I pick up a faded oak leaf and gently blow upon it. The frost disappears, gone in a slight gust of warm breath. Another exhale to see my breath steam in the cold air. Proof – I am still alive. Unbidden, as I look upon the silent world, the words – “*the only living boy in New York…” steals from my lips. No one hears me except the frost.

autumn dawn – first frost
outlines brittle brown leaves – lone
crow hears my footsteps

*Only Living Boy in New York – Paul Simon – Bridge Over Troubled Water album

Meeting the Bar – Trimeric Poetic Form

Today at d’Verse Poetics, Mary is our pubkeeper. She has introduced us to the Trimeric Poetic form – a lovely and adaptable form. Come visit us to find out more about this form and read the poems submitted. I hope you will be inspired to try your own and link it up!  http://dversepoets.com/2015/10/08/meeting-the-bar-trimeric-form/

The Full Moon is the Watchdog
The full moon is the watchdog
Guarding the shadows of night –
muted leaves whisper
Secrets to the listening wind.

Guarding the shadows of night
The moon gazes as the cold wind
ripples fallen leaves on the empty road.

Muted leaves whisper
And are echoed by drowsy crickets
and a family of sleepy owls.

Secrets to the listening breeze
Are murmured by the pewter creek
Sleep walking through silver reeds.

Andō Hiroshige 1797 – 1858 Full Moon and Reeds

Pewter Landscape II

the full moon is the watch dog
guarding the shadows of night.
the landscape is awash in greys, blacks and white.
summer heat pulses
cicadas thrum
tree frogs cry for rain
but the merciless moon shines bright
in a cloudless night sky.
a faint sussuration
like the sighs of dry grasses
remembering the wind
passes around, through me.
the road says, come with me now.
the country roads are empty
and like ribbons of silver they stretch to the horizon.
headlights turned off
driving in silence by the light of the moon
humming tires…
pewter moonlight monochrome
ghostly landscape sleeps,
I need to get lost tonight.

***Note: This is the second in a series of poems built from lines from Pewter Landscape – tanka

Pewter Landscape – tanka

summer photograph –
pewter moonlight monochrome
ghostly landscape sleeps,
the full moon is the watch dog
guarding the shadows of night.

Two Spring Haiku – 春 俳句

Katsushika Hokusai- Plum Blossom and the Moon from the book Mount Fuji in Spring

I.
Night haze softens bare
trees – plum blossoms secretly
begin to unfold.

II.
First full moon of spring
Frogs sing loudly from the creek –
Bare trees listening.

Kawanabe Kyosai – 1879

 

 

 

Full Moon Madness – 01/28/13 3:00 am

I sit in my special
place on the back steps
and gaze at the moon. Light rain
coats me with icy sheen. All
I can think of, at this moment,
Is your face with the snow falling
And melting on your skin.
Lunacy.

December moon

Luminescent pearl

Worn by the night sky, baroque

Purity enchants.