dVerse Poetics: Anthropomorphism

Today Lillian is pubtender at dVerse and is prompting us to write anthropomorphic poetry such as…”Hey diddle diddle the cat and the fiddle, the cow jumped over the moon. The little dog laughed to see such a sight and the dish ran away with the spoon.” In other words, giving human characteristics to non-human “things”. Come join us at: https://dversepoets.com/2017/04/04/anthropomorphize-me/ I have provided two haiku and one senryu for Lillian’s prompt.
I.
haru no kumo**
chase each other across spring
sky – children playing

II.
dragon dog castle
clouds bend themselves into shapes –
water forms miracles

III.
drifting along in
the sky – floating free – formed from
vapor – blue skies smile

 

**haru no kumo – spring clouds

copyright kanzensakura

Blue and gold Sunday – haibun

public domain - View of the Church of Saint Paul and Asylum

public domain – View of the Church of Saint Paul and Asylum at Remy – Van Gogh

I am writing a haibun and being untraditional by ending the prose portion with a senryu rather than haiku. This haibun is in response to a painting by Van Gogh which Bjorn, hosting our Haibun Monday at d’Verse Poets, asked us to use as our prompt for our haibun – .http://dversepoets.com/2015/11/02/haibun-monday-3/  I am also posting on Poets United for their Poetry Pantry http://poetryblogroll.blogspot.com/2015/11/poetry-pantry-275.html  (Sunday) Come and visit me at both locations and read outstanding poetry by outstanding poets!  Those of you who write prose and have not yet tried the Japanese poetry/prose form of haibun may be interested in trying your hand.  At d’Verse Poets, the link is good for a week to submit haibun.  Try it, you may like it!  Come visit and read if nothing else for excellent reading material.  http://dversepoets.com/2015/11/02/haibun-monday-3/

Blue and Gold Sunday
I was admitted to the Asylum at Saint Remy in August of 1889 because I had the poor taste and wicked disposition to allow my older brother to rape me several times a week after the family had retired for the evening. Even worse, after a few months, when enough had become too much, I stopped his attacks by taking a knife to him – a knife secreted from the kitchen and hidden under my pillow. What a mess! Blood spattered on the hand painted silk wall paper, the chaste white lace and linen of my bed and by a well-aimed and angry stroke, my brother became incapable of performing such an attack again. Running to find out what the screaming was all about, my parents, several servants, and my mama’s spinster sister, discovered my brother emasculated and slowly bleeding to death and me – covered with blood and voiceless. Since that night, I have not spoken and mostly spend my days staring inside myself at landscapes such as never existed on this earth. Our family doctor recommended the Asylum as a place far enough away from Paris for my parents to forget I existed. Our lawyer helped them silence the disgrace and make arrangements for my admittance. I would be surrounded by beautiful pastoral views and treated well by the good Sisters and the doctors.

And so here I am, sitting by the window of my small private room watching the morning sun gild the Sunday countryside, absorbed in the view of the Chapel. The sky is the unearthly blue of an alpine lake. Church bells begin to ring, their sound drifting over the unharvested wheat like gentle wood smoke. Last night, one of the attendants came to do his weekly visit. Klaus had become my brother in this quiet place. During a noisy outbreak at the end of the hall, I took my dinner knife, cleverly hidden up the sleeve of my kimono. I had patiently waited for such a happening. While everyone but lazy Klaus was occupied silencing the creator of the shrieks and mayhem, I took myself to the opposite end of the hall where he spent most of his time napping and smoking hand rolled cigarillos. He did not hear me as I stepped behind him and drew the knife across his throat. Stepping back quickly to avoid blood on myself, I dropped the knife and then returned to my room. I slept well. This morning, when the Sunday doctor asked me how I was doing, for the first time in four years, I spoke. I looked him in the eye and said, “I am feeling much better now” and smiled.

blue and gold Sunday –
madness departs to dissolve
into the blue sky.

MTB – Humor

Today, Victoria has given us the wonderful prompt of writing something humorous.  To be honest, I’ve not been in a humorous frame for a couple of months.  I hope one of these fit the bill.   http://dversepoets.com/2015/10/22/seriously-thats-funny-dverse-meeting-the-bar/

free public domain image

free public domain image

I.  (senryu)
sparrows skate on ice
gobbling seeds – cat sneaks, spies, stalks –
leaps, slips – birds snicker.

II. (Bussokusekika poetic form)
high up in my tree
playing the violin and
watching fall at play –
leaves swirl birds chirp creek gurgles –
I saw notes trying my best
squirrel yells at me – silence!

 

Jisei – Part Two – d’Verse Poetics

Today at d’Verse Poetics Pub, Gayle has gifted us with a wonderful and informative prompt on Japanese death poems – jisei.  I submitted one but decided to pull some from my notebook to add.  I hope you all don’t mind.  I. is senryu form II & III are haiku Iv. tanka V. tanka – embedded in a previous d’Verse prompt on chivalry and knights. This is from a poem about a Samurai as he prepares to leave for battle and is the poem he left for his family. The Samurai is fictional but is based on a friend of mine – a modern Samurai of sorts.

Here is the link to come and visit us:  http://dversepoets.com/2015/09/24/jisei-japanese-death-poems

I.
end of a long day –
frozen rain on my roof – I
dream under warm quilt.

II.
the white peony
bright yesterday and fragrant –
today petals fall.

III.
water of autumn
clear now summer storms are past –
winter ice beckons.

IV.
grey heron waits in
pond for fish to come – so still
they swim around his
legs not dreaming they will soon
be captives in his beak.

V.
Death Poem of Masashi Kenata – 1538 – 1580
bitter winter winds –
in the garden the sleeping
cherry blossoms wait
for spring sun to awaken –
I can only dream.

copyright kanzensakura

 

Open Link – d’Verse Poetics – Samurai Death Poem

It was a tradition for the literate Japanese (monks and Samurai for example) to write death poems shortly before their anticipated death or battle. With the changing of the seasons from summer to autumn, we see changes as the seasons of spring and summer end. All things pass.

This is not a morbid subject at all. It is rather, an exercise in fiction writing for me. Although the “death poem of a Samurai”, it is “written” by a fictional Samurai character I have created, but based on a real person. I have been working on this for some time and this is the debut of this poem. I have chosen to buck the tradition a bit and have composed this using three Japanese poetic forms -I) haiku II) tanka III) senryu

I am presenting this at today’s Open Link event at d’Verse Poetics pub. I hope you enjoy. Please visit us today to read all the different poems linked. Open Link is a non-prompted event and so many excellent poets link their varied poems. Come and link one of your own!  Here is the link to d’Verse:  http://dversepoets.com/2015/09/17/open-link-night/

 

illus. Yoshitoshi Tsukikoko - death poem of Gen. Akashi Gidayu - wiki image

illus. Yoshitoshi Tsukikoko – death poem of Gen. Akashi Gidayu – wiki image

 

I.
how brief the blossoms
of the cherry tree – their
lives end at sunset.
II.
snow falling at dawn –
melting flakes gone before day –
bare branches feel them
drift through skeletal fingers –
birds sleep as they fall.
III
cherry blossom moon
holds back the night sky – my night
will conquer that moon.

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