Leaf Hagaki

Today is Quadrille Monday at dVerse.  What is a Quadrille?  It is a form unique to dVerse Poets pub consisting of exactly 44 words (excluding the title) and the chosen word.  Today Victoria is in charge of the Pub and has given us the word “poem” or variants of the word.  Come join us for these lovely short poems.

public domain image

Leaf Hagaki*
I carefully prick one word poems
on fallen leaves, letting the wind
take them where it will –
Postcards of joy, love, tolerance, hope.
I don’t expect a reply
but I let them loose anyway.
The silence between the falling of the leaves
is deafening.

* hagaki – Japanese for fragments of writing or postcards

 

Weight of Crows

or Angies prompt at Real Toads. We are to choose a list and write a poem from the words.
solace trace pause over
inwardness sweat reflect beginning
need forgiveness unfolding back
thanks weight years ahead

Weight of Crows
Today is the umpteenth anniversary
of your decision to return to Japan.
My words are like a weight around my neck,
a murder of crows hanging upside down
their feet tied with pink ribbons.
A trace of sweat sneaks down my face
And dribbles down onto my keyboard.
I look for forgiveness from you.
I truly loved you but now I must
let you go.
I should have done this years ago
but the love hangs around my neck
Like a murder of crows.

public domain photo

Haikai Challenge #16

For Frank Tassone’s haikai challenge #16,Freedom. Monday would have been my Mother’s 88th birthday. This is in her honor. She did love to ride behind me!

https://nam02.safelinks.protection.outlook.com/?url=http%3A%2F%2Ffrankjtassone.com%2F2018%2F01%2F13%2Fhaikai-challenge-16-1-13-18-freedom-haiku-senryu-tanka-haibun-renga-haiga%2F&data=02%7C01%7C%7Cf218dd55cad04f3e1fa508d55aa893b1%7C84df9e7fe9f640afb435aaaaaaaaaaaa%7C1%7C0%7C636514602427764877&sdata=LxYY1Hx0PNgqd2Na52hnRcYrHxENqGAnfejmjnBNJio%3D&reserved=0

open road ahead
blue skies above – my Ducati
and I sing to the wind

Haibun: Ageless

This is linked to Real Toads, Tuesday Platform. With total admiration in De Jackson’s (WhimsyGizmo) style of poetry.

Ageless
This poem is ageless –
No wrinkles, no white hair, no unsteady gait.

This poem dances on the shores
of oceans, lakes, deserts.

This poem sings on her backporch
in the moonlight – loudly – Handel’s Halleluiah Chorus .

This poem loves deeply and joyfully
and exchanges the feeling of skin on skin.

This poem is ageless.
This poem flies with owls between the trees –
silent and unafraid.

Real Toads and dVerse Poets Pub OLN

Today Shay is prompting over at Real Toads. She asks us to write of spells, gypsy curses, dopplegangers, the like. She also requests “no haiku because they give me the shakes”. Perhaps like me she has seen too too many bad fauxku on the ‘net lately: to many dead lifeless zombie-ku, too many sweet pink precious-ku, to many emotion crazed maniac-ku, too too many abbreviated fake jazzy-ku. I know, they frighten me too. To paraphrase Haley Joel Osment in The Sixth Sense: I see bad haiku. Real Toad’s link: Fireblossom Friday : I Put A Spell On You.  I am also posting this on dVerse Poets Pub Open Link night. Open Link Night # 205   PS I have finished this poem with a senryu – what most people call “haiku”….but it aint!

Don’t Fear The Reaper
I was timid and short –
You were ruthless and gentle and brave.
I gazed into your almond shaped brown eyes –
And I became trapped –
A skeletal butterfly encased in amber.
But on the wings of your words
I flew. I soared. I became fierce.
I often look back at that young woman
And then I look in the mirror of the woman
I am today.
The curse of your love still hovers over me.
The blood I drew from you that day
we drew swords against each other
still stains my hands with red.
You were surprised as was I.
I look up at the full harvest moon
And I howl.
I count the stars as I hold my head back
And I howl.
I fling the curse to the sky –
To be taken by the wind.
I don’t know if it will ever take.
The curse of your love still hovers over me.

harvest moon listens – dogs
shuffle in the underbrush –
curses abound

 

public domain image

dVerse Poetics: Magic

Today Paul Scribbles is prompting our Poetics at dVerse.  He is asking us to write about magic. Magical, magician, magic in all its forms and permutations. And so, I did!

Sweet Magic
the door to another universe opened
and he walked out –
his hair in a warrior’s knot
and wearing a black on black silk hakama
and wide shouldered black kataginu
embroidered with cherry blossoms – black on black.
he told me later he wore all black for
martial arts demoonstrations.
he carried daisho – katana and wakizashi and
on his right hip he wore the tanto – dagger.
I was 25 and he was 28 and already had two Ph.D.s
He was almost through with his third.
He moved light and deadly and quick as a hawk.
Taller than your average Japanese but then,
his homeworld was the mountainous region
in Hakone. I watched him draw his katana –
one pure movement of silver and death – magic.
I was dating a jerk at the time and had gone
to the Kendo competition with the jerk.
He rescued me from the jerk and won the competition.
His voice was soft and husky
and his hands and arms were knicked and scarred –
Swords are sharp he said when he saw me looking.
I fell head over heels in love with him but…
Greater older magic was at work –
He fell in love with plain short me.
His hands were soft and sure
And his lips were full and curved.
He taught me forms and Kendo
And gave me a wakizashi because I was too short –
“Your opponent will behead you before you have your
sword half-way out.
The wakizashi’s name is Minamikaze – South Wind.
This my love will make you formidable.”
I held the wakizashi and gave it a slight swish.
He smiled. “Take your death as a given,
Accept it and you will be free to live.”
Then he smiled and sang to me
holding me close:
“All our times have come
Here but now they’re gone
Seasons don’t fear the reaper
Nor do the wind, the sun or the rain, we can be like they are
Come on baby, don’t fear the reaper*”
I took the leap. Down the rabbit hole.
Magic.
Pure sweet magic.

old snapshot taken in Duke U Medical Library 1979

  • Don’t Fear the Reaper – Blue Oyster Cult

My Garden

This is for Bjorn’s Meeting the Bar segment of dVerse – a free verse sonnet.  He gives Neruda as an example.  I told Bjorn I was busy putting up food for the winter…he asked if I was going to do a sonnet on tomatoes.  I don’t know if I did this correctly.  I am not much on Western forms.  so my volta is a senryu.  I hope it works!

My Garden

The rain began in the spring and did not end
until Mother’s Day. My garden was planted late
But then it took off like a rocket.
Tomatoes, corn, butterbeans –
cucumbers and squashes in all the colors
of the rainbow. Fresh and lovely in taste
and soft and strong to the touch.
Now it is getting to the end of summer.
My garden is starting to show its age but
still it gives to me. Days spent canning
and pickling and freezing – just to have
the taste of summer all through the winter.

summer bounty thrives –
animals snack at night – I
work during the day

tomato

copyright kanzensakura

 

 

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