Wolf Moon

For Open Link Night at dVerse. happy holidays to you all and happy new year!Wolf Moon
“As I always like to say, good is good forever.” Anthony Bourdain

the wolf moon begins to rise
shattered into pieces
by black branches
like a sky mounted mirror.
branches begin to whisper
tossed by high flying breezes
sounding like windchimes made from seashells,
small animal bones, broken glass –
The wolf moon crouches in the sky
sniffing the smell of the wind.

Haibun: Cedars against snow

For Real Toads Tuesday platform.  This haibun only has 39 words, more than enough.I feed a family of ten feral cats on a daily basis. Slowly I am getting them all fixed with rabies shots.

Haibun: Cedars against snow
Against the snow on the hillside, the cedars show up almost black. The wind whistles over the snow; the occasional bark of crows wafts over the meadow.
a crow caws
across the meadow – feral cats
line up for food

feral cats

Coming of Snow

For Real Toads, Marian’s Fussy Little Forms Prompt:  Puente is a rewarding form created by James Rasmusson. The word puente means bridge in Spanish, and–naturally–this lovely form features a bridge. It is a simple idea:  Three stanzas – First and third stanzas have equal number of lines (your choice how many) Middle bridge stanza is one line, enclosed in dashes or tildes.  Middle bridge stanza serves as last line for first stanza and first line for last stanza. I used classic haiku for my stanzas, combining two forms. I am in an odd emotionless time at this point and it is reflected in my poetry.

Coming of Snow
bitter cold morning –
quick whiff of wood smoke before
nostrils become numb

the smell of snow in the air – sharp and sweet

frost forms on window –
moon stays warm among the stars –
quiet night sleeps

The Duns of Winter

For Amaya’s prompt over at dVerse Poet’s Pub – the secret ingredient.

The Duns of Winter
The duns of winter
sleep softly
waiting for the last ingredient –
snow

Haibun: Things die but things live

For my prompt over at Real Toads – mono no aware. Mono no aware is the Japanese concept of a wistful sadness at the passing of things. It is also based on mujo – the Japanese word for change. Haibun is written in the classic style, less than 100 words. My haibun today has 52 words.

Haibun: Things die but things live
“Maybe that’s enlightenment enough: to know that there is no final resting place of the mind, no moment of smug clarity.” Anthony Bourdain

The rain is relentlessly falling, drenching everything. A hawk sits in the oak tree across the way looking hungry and cold. Suddenly it lifts its wings dives. I hear a faint scream. A small creature has met its end.

seasons change – things die –
but another creature lives –
rain keeps falling down

The Swan

For qbit’s prompt over at dVerse this Haibun Monday. A haibun is a non-fictional short writing (one or two paragraphs) closed by a season haiku.  it is an ancient Japanese poetic form and was created by Basho.

The Swan
The lone swan sailed over the bits of water that was left unfrozen in the dead of winter. To this day I don’t know why she lighted down there, alone. Her flock had long since left her and so she swam in pitiful small circles, occasionally upending to feed on small fish and water lily roots. My mother and I remarked on her aloness and wondered why. I was afraid the hunters would do her in and my mother worried about coyotes and wild dogs dragging her to land and devouring her. But still she swam in her pitiful small circles. One day in not-quite-spring, we drove by the swamp area to find it white with swans. We pulled on the side of the road watching them and listening to their honking. As one, they rose to the sky and the swamp was empty. The swan had taken flight with her flock. I spoke to a game warden later who said the sawn may have been sick or injured. She was left behind to heal or die. My mother and I were both pleased she had healed and left behind the strange landscape of the swamp to be with her flock.
frozen water –
circles getting smaller
as a swan swims

Black and White tanka

For the Tuesday Platform at Real Toads. Because as Cole Porter once said in a song, It’s Too Darn Hot. So I am posting a tanka from back in the winter just to get cool.

copyright kanzensakura

Black and White
white snow black branches
breathe slowly while dreaming of
awakening spring
and birds huddle in tangled
tunnels warm and unafraid

Haibun: Snow like fire

Today is Quadrille Monday at dVerse. A quadrille is a poem in any form with exactly 44 words (excluding the title) and using the prompted word. Dee (Whimzy Gizmo) is the pubtender at dVerse Poets Pub. She has given us the world “fire” to use in the quadrille. I am actually doing non-traditional in the ending haiku with not keeping to the 5-7-5 syllable count.  I am publishing on dVerse Poets Pub

Snow like Fire
It started out as rain but quickly turned into heavy snow. Daffodils show like flames against the white. My flowering quince smolders like a slow fire in the falling snow.

snow falls like freezing fire–
flowers show against white –
burns slowly in the cold

copyright kanzensakura

 

 

Haikai Challenge #24 #1

Frank’s Challenge #24:  Snow

snow flowers blossom
out of season – unmindful
of pitiless storm

The dead raccoon

The dead raccoon

I’ve been talking to the crows.
They don’t really listen.
They just cock their heads and give me the eye –
And then they begin to caw,
All of them right over my head as if…
As if I have nothing important to say.
I tell them about the dead raccoon
I discovered on our walkway this morning.
I steel myself as I go get the shovel from the garage
and begin to try to shove it up under the raccoon.
The raccoon is stiff and falls from the shovel.
I talk to the crows telling them about
the hard time I am having.
They continue to walk about the yard –
ignoring me.
Give me a break, I mutter.
Please. Somebody, give me a break.
Nobody listens as I carry it across the yard
as it falls from the shovel – several times.
At one point I begin to whimper,
Pleasepleasepleaseplease.
I don’t know why this dead raccoon
has upset me so badly.
My husband at work told me to grab
a shovel and throw it in the woods.
My best friend called me from Tennessee
and told me to grab a shovel
and throw it in the woods.
The crows follow behind me
or skip in front of me on the way to the woods.
I finally reach the woods and
dump the raccoon onto the ground.
I turn but then….
Visions of those murdered children
pop into my head.
I begin to dig.
As I dig, I talk to my friend
the Old Oak.
He is silent.
I begin to dig.
Why me? I whimper.
Why those kids? I weep.
Nobody listens.
Nobody cares.
I tamp the earth down over the raccoon
and place several rocks
on the grave.
The crows fly away
still ignoring me.

For Kerry’s Prompt at Real Toads – a one-sided conversation, written for a silent and even disinterested audience, because poetry is an aspect of individual creativity that goes beyond literary appreciation or criticism.

Cedars

a gogyoshi for Open Link Night at dVerse. A gogyoshi has five lines like a cinquain or tanka. However – that is the only “rule” for this Japanese poetic form. No syllable count, no rhyme or rhythm required. Exactly five lines, any style.

Cedars
cedars in the meadow
lined up in a row –
all is silent in the snow
except for the lonely call
of a crow.

Cedar – Ansel Adams 1956

Words Fail

 

For Poet’s United, Midweek Motif.  Sumana has the prompt which is words.

Words Fail

“Actions speak louder than words” – old proverb

Words –
A poor way to communicate.
How often words are taken amiss –
to cause anger, make glad, cause tears,
a different language sounds like gibberish –
reduce one to helpless snorts and guffaws.

the touch of a gentle hand upon one’s shoulder
a smile, a frown, the rolling of the eyes,
lips pursed or a blush –
the wind through the trees
the soft peep of peepers down at the creek
on a warm summer night
or the hooting of an owl
in a crystal night with a sky full of stars
in the depths of a cold winter night…
the things that speak to the soul
rather than to the ears –
Words.
Words can fail.

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