Tears in Frames

For Carrie’s Sunday Muse BlogSpot.  Artwork is: “Eyes Without a Face” by Digital Collage Artist Robin Isely A short one today. I have been immersing myself in Japanese classic haiku and am starting back on my quest to be succinct.

Tears in Frames
“One by one, drops fell from her eyes like they were on an assembly line – gather, fall, slide…gather, fall, slide…each one commemorating something she had lost.” ― Lisi Harrison, Monster High

Tears came before I could stop them,
what was the point in wiping them off?
I have imprisoned myself in my grief –
observers wander the halls
in the museum of my grief –
as lost as I

Peeling Fruit

For dVerse Poets Pub.  Today is Quadrille Monday.

 

Peeling Fruit

“What can we expect from an empty shell Where many hearts of pearl once beat to dwell, Waves fail to break hard layer’s bond of love, Wailing shore sends memoir to the sky above” ― Munia Khan

The knife plunges into the blood orange
and the chef pulls back the peel
and rips it from the orange.
the blood orange seeps red liquid.
I feel just like that orange.
the orange bleeds juice –
the human bleeds tears.
the knife keeps ripping.

Bulbs and Bees

A haibun on the subject of spring for dVerse Poets Pub haibun Monday.  I prefer the haibun in the manner of Basho rather than the long descriptive westernized haibun.  This is also linked to Earthweal whose subject is renewal.

 

Bulbs and Bees
“To me the meanest flower that blows can give thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears.” William Wordsworth

Bulbs and Bees
When we moved into this house, my husband and I planted a few hundred daffodil bulbs to naturalize among the trees and boundary lines. Every year, they come up among the fallen dead leaves, pushing them out of the way. Then they begin to bloom – such sweetness of fragrance that lifts my heart. The bees come awake about this time of year. I press my stethoscope against the hive listening to them buzz. I must confess to stroking the green fronds of the daffodil and weeping as I remember Brad and I planting the bulbs so happily that first autumn we lived in our home. Such joy we shared with each other and with the creatures of the woods and of course, my bees. Every year the daffodils return bringing spring on its heels.
gazing at the blue skies
the colour of his eyes –
I smile at the clouds

 

 

Sorrow is Shit

For Carrie’s Sunday Muse BlogSpot.

Sorrow is Shit
“People once believed that when someone dies, a crow carries their soul to the land of the dead. But sometimes, something so bad happens that a terrible sadness is carried with it and the soul can’t rest. Then sometimes, just sometimes, the crow can bring that soul back to put the wrong things right.” ― James O’Barr, The Crow

the crows were once my friends.
then a great sorrow overtook me
and I exploded in anger and then finally,
deep harsh tears.
the crows left me.
I am alone lying here,
the crow drops a key into the empty
cavity that is now my chest –
sans husband, sans heart, sans friends, sans love.
I wish the crow would replace my friends.
sorrow is shit without friends.

Leaves II

An American Sentence for Halloween for dVerse Poets Open Link Night – https://dversepoets.com/

Leaves II
“Tears are words the heart can’t express.” Gerard Way

Leaves falling like tears this All Hallows Eve; it ends in tears anyway.

Ashes

For Sarah’s prompt at dVerse Poets Pub, a tribute to Bladerunner, one of my favorite all time movies directed by one of my all time favorite directors, Ridley Scott. We are to write a poem using our senses, like Roy Batty in his ending speech in Bladerunner, the famous Tears in the Rain speech.

Ashes
“That barren pasture. Empty, and salted. The dead space between the stars.” – Niander Wallace, Bladerunner 2049

the sweat rolling down my back
that hot southern morning –
the sweat rolling down my back
and mingled with the tears.
the ground was hard like cement
and I had to take the axe from the
trunk of my car
and beat the blade into the ground
to break it up with an engineer’s hammer.
I finally was able to dig a hole
deep enough to pour
your grey ashes into it.
At the foot of your mother’s grave.
the sweat rolling down my back
that hot southern morning.
your pansy brown eyes looking into mine
that last day. I dug the hole
remembering all you had seen and heard
and shared with me.
gone forever except in my memories,
washed away with the sweat dripping down,
down onto the soil.
I covered the ashes with rocks.
it began to rain, one of those
sudden summer showers. I cried when I
got back into the car and watched
the rain pouring down the windshield.

scene from Blade Runner 2049 in the snow at the end

Haibun: Oops!

For my Wednesday Muse prompt:  I Love to Laugh. A haibun. A prosimetric form that is true and ended with a seasonal haiku. Jeff was my dear friend who reminded me a lot of Robert Preston in Victor/Victoria. He committed suicide last year 6/7/2018. I miss him greatly and he still makes me laugh.

Oops!
 “A friend is a gift you give yourself. “Robert Louis Stevenson

We had a new employee coming into our agency. My supervisor assured me I would like him. Jeff was introduced to us at a unit breakfast and the supervisor was right – we took to each other like pancakes and maple syrup.

The next day we went out to lunch. As we were walking down the hill to a cafe  the elastic in my underwear snapped. Slowly my underpants creeped down. I kept stopping to pull them up. Finally Jeff said, Girl, what is your problem? I confessed. My elastic snapped and my underpants keep slipping. We stopped while Jeff pondered for a moment. I know. You slip into this alley way and shuck them off. I will stand outside and guard you. So I did. Luckily I was wearing a denim jumper.

Jeff asked me what color they were. I asked him why? He grinned and said, If I see a drunk wandering on the street wearing them as a hat, I just want to identify the owner.  I giggled . Fuschia .  We went back to the office laughing uproariously. We laughed about this for years . It didn’t help that we had gotten high as kites while out of the office.
hot summer in the city –
alleys hide secrets in them –
laughter lasts forever

Seagulls

For Kerry’s prompt at Real Toads, Let’s Be Imagists.  As a Note:  T.S. Eliot and Ezra Pound are two of my favorite poets. I fell in love with them when I was thirteen.  This is Day 25 of NAPOWRIMO.

Seagullsj
“Good writers are those who keep the language efficient. That is to say, keep it accurate, keep it clear.” Ezra Pound

Blue sky
White clouds
Black rocks
Green ocean.
Seagulls dive cutting the scene into
ribbons

Namida 涙

grief shatters: explosion
of tears, a breaking of
heart barrier with pain

For my Friend Jeff: 11/16/1951 – 08/04/2013

優しい雨

invisible night
rain: darkness weeps – tears not mine
blind my drowsy eyes

 

rain

%d bloggers like this: