Haibun: The Last Holdout

For Imelda (guest prompting at dVerse) prompt of waiting at dVerse Haibun Monday. A haibun is a short prosimetric Japanese form. I am following my new style of writing haibun in the abbreviated style of the original haibun created by Basho, 44 – 100 words. Remember: A haibun is an accounting of a true incident that happened to you. It is not poetry separated by “haiku”. the haiku must be seasonal and nature related to be a haiku.  A haibun is also not flash fiction. This will also be posted on Tuesday Platform at Real Toads

Haibun: The Last Holdout
Almost the end of November. The weather varies between warm and cold, dry and wet. Some leaves still cling to the trees waiting for the word from Nature to let go and fall, drifting slowly to the earth. Every day I walk by and count fewer leaves than the day before.
the black oak
still warming the cold sky –
last to lose its leaves

copyright kanzensakura

 U7

Haibun: Golden Leaves

For Quadrille Monday at dVerse.  A poem in any form of exactly 44 words using the prompted word which Lillian has given us:  spoil or a variant of spoil, not a synonym.

Golden Leaves
“The journey is part of the experience – an expression of the seriousness of one’s intent.” Anthony Bourdain

Our woods are filled with golden trees – poplar, oak, hickory. The leaves begin to fall covering the road, spoiling the view of the blacktop. Spicy smells scent the air.
gold leaves swirl to earth –
squirrels hunt for hidden nuts –
hawks watch them with care

copyright kanzensakura

Autumn Shows its Face

For Lillian’s prompt at dVerse Poets Pub. a double sestet and a loop poem. I have chosen the letters D, E, F, H, G.I.

Autumn Shows Its Face
Indian summer shows its face in colored leaves.
Hibernating animals and blue skies,
Golden pumpkins in the fields,
Foraging squirrels and birds.
Equinox will divide the season –
Dew turns into frost.

Deciduous trees let loose their leaves
Enraging OCD lawn owners.
Fresh frosty air reddens cheeks.
Golden flowers bloom glorifying ditches.
Holly and cedar adorn themselves with berries
Indian summer shows its face in colored leaves.

public domain image

Quadrille Monday: Kick

Monday it is Quadrille Monday. De is the pubtender. what is a quadrille? It is a poem of exactly 44 words, excluding the title. The quadrille must include a prompted word. today it is “kick” – kicked, kicking, kicks, kickle, a form of the word kick. Come join us for these fun and short poems.  The Pub opens at 3:00 pm EST Monday.

Kicking Leaves
I like my morning walks
especially in autumn –
leaves have fallen –
they lie stacked up on the sides of our lane.
I kick a group of them up in the air.
A snake goes flying.
Now, ain’t that a kick in the head?

copyright kanzen sakura

Dreaming November

This is for Angie’s prompt over at Real Toads. She found a wonderful book with suggestions for and lists of words for inspiration: Sandford Lyne titled, “Writing Poetry from the Inside Out:  Finding Your Voice Through the Craft of Poetry.” It seems a most excellent book I shall check out this afternoon. Come visit us at Real Toads: http://withrealtoads.blogspot.com/2017/11/get-listed-november-edition.html She gives us several lists with four words in each. I chose the list with November, layer, stones, throat to write a poem of 100 words or less.  I am also posting this today at dVerse Poets Pub for their Open Link Night. I am also posting at Poets United Poetry Pantry.

Dreaming November
rust-colored November
settles into the stones
in layers of newly fallen leaves
old leaves rotting leaves –
a smell that catches in the back of my throat
and makes me want to put down roots.
November is the calm before the winter storms –
stones sleep
beneath the leaves
beside the creek
flowing clear over rounded stones
before settling into the
pool at the end –
sleeping leaves dreaming of summer.

copyright Kanzen Sakura

October Haiku

 

Golden leaves drip dew.

Pine needle path leads us to

Fragrant  adventures.

 

Hidden among dry leaves

Empty hulls nestle.  Pecans

Wait to be discovered.

 

Red flags of sumac

Wave against an ocean of

Blue sky.  Clouds race.

 

Burgeoning leaves.

Parti-colored crayon box

Of gold red orange brown.

 

Faded leaves beautiful

In their fallen array.

Ageless pattern a reminder

That beauty is not

Always young.   

Fragrance is not always green

And strong, but delicate

And to be savored slowly.

 

First frost covers the

Grass.  Morning sun

Melts until night comes again.

 

The taste of rain cold

and sweet falls from iron sky.

My lips ask for more.

 

Darkness falls too fast.

Sun fades and disappears

Like summer flowers.