Tuesday Taproots and Some Haiku

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I missed last week’s photo challenge from Hugh, depicting ‘glorious,’ so I’ll leave this great horned owl photo here. Enjoy!*

Hi, everyone. Now that May (short story month) has concluded, I’m retiring.

I kid, I kid. To your chagrin! But to be nonfacetious, I’ve been fairly creative—wedging in writing time and, perhaps even more valuable, reading time—in the interim. Amid camps and classes and appointments (oh my), I’ve found a way to make it work. Somehow. I hope you all are doing the same in your creative and life endeavors, however they may mesh.

I’ve got a story debuting (details to come) online, on approximately June 18. That is exciting, and I’ll let you know more when the publisher okays it. It might not be to your taste or, contrarily, it might be just the panacea Dr. Dystopian ordered.

Anyway, in the meanwhile, some haiku I’ve worked on. A few do contain mature language, Continue reading

Haiku High Jinks: On Word-Building and LEGOs

CandLego--Daily Imagination Haiku_2

Imagination power! Kid 2 thinks of the Bard (WS LEGO not seen above) as “Shakesbeard” and “Shakesbeer.” Which do you think he would like better?

 

Poet Ludens*

e.e.’s axiom:

which-y words flaying, zinging

out like darts in flesh

*Inspired by “what if a much of a which of a wind.” Text here at poem 75.

 

The Play-bow

The play-bow. RIP, big guy.

Ode to An Absent Friend

The red slide of your

back. An arc, bowing willow,

bark tethered to moon.

 

 

 

 

 

Daily Imaginations

Three-headed robot.

’Sooth, “Shakesbeard” shall slay them all!

Words flare, sabrepoints.

 

Wall Light Haiku_2.1

The Art-Light Game

Light leapfrogs our wall.

Chiaroscuro hop-scotches,

Pollock play-splotches.

 

 

Written for the weekly (25 January 2015) Haiku Horizons, keyword “play.”

Haiku Thursday: On a Theme of Release

October has become a candypalooza in many parts of the world. But for just a few minutes, why don’t we imagine something different. Perhaps even an Octo-beer. And in that vein, hope you enjoy these haiku drafted written for Haiku Horizons.


 

Frost, Fall, Leaves_20141022_1256

Growing

Do these trees release

willingly, in warm wisdom

learning to let go?

 

Laws of all

We learned from our souls’

terminal velocity

to embrace the Fall.

 

Manifesto

And I will free it

so I can soar, roar, risk it

all and fall, to rise.

 

Lush language

Writer, gulper of

overheard wisdom stolen

from wide-open taps.

 

Writer, brewer

What is writing, if

not distilling strong mood-shine.

Reader, want a jar?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Handling the Human Heart: Haiku

Reuters--butchery photo

Reuters photograph.

Youth, flayed

Whistle at one life’s work.

That snug abbatoir, childhood,

skips to your lax blade.

 

Her heart

She forgot to know

words more powerful than belts.

Lacerating tears.

 

His heart

Wet vigils kept you

over pallid self-esteem,

sluicing away flesh.

Crane-Desert poem graphic

Because it is your heart

Seagram’s, your Grail, spears

raggedy id. Pinking shears

sawtooth kith — and kin.

 

 

Fear’s edge

You saw its savage

edge through pocket of apron.

A grin slits your lips.


Haiku for this week’s Haiku Horizons, on “cut,” which lent itself to sanguine verses (for me, anyway; be sure to read the other contributors!).

And now for some comic relief (note: this is the “Barbershop/Lumberjack sketch,” the first part of which might gross out the squeamish).

 

 

Euphoric/Dysphoric Haiku

 

Strands of IMacbeth candle

When I am wholly

at peace, bifurcated (k)not:

tallow’s tail — docked, snuffed.

 

Untitled, rhyming 1

This patchwork world frays

arrayed lives, brocaded days.

Best dress to egress.

 

Untitled, rhyming 2

Content comes with age

they say; calm is the loose cloak

saved for darker days.

 

Function Sans Form

Meanings labyrinthine,

when content is king and coils

reason ’round the thing.

 

 Blood Lines

Where mem’ries gather,

if I could just let them clot,

would hell or heme bloom?


The Haiku Horizons word of the week is “content,” which can be used adjectivally or nominally, as I’ve done here; be sure to peruse the other contributors to this week’s HH. After you’re done there, enjoy some other haiku or related forms by writers Robert Okaji, who here gives us a haibun, and Sarah Potter, who delivers a Monday morning haiku weekly.

 

Haiku: Examined Lives

We Night Birds

We hollow-boned preen

by day, ’til Night feathers nests

and opens pent souls.

Open and Read, If You Dare

Here lie life’s pages

not flitt’ry on the gurney

but splint’ring the eye.

Image from the "As Eye See It" photography blog by Herb Paynter

Image from the “The Way Eye Sees It” photography blog by Herb Paynter.

 

Mama Maelstrom

Dreams pelt swift these days,

open holes in mind-windows,

gouge out doughy hopes.

 

 

Life’s Sentences

I once knew a man

so open-minded, the book

submerged, and tabloid rose.

 With Nothing But Writing to Guide Me

Carry me across

divided worlds, burned bridges

minds, eyes, hearts — o, pen.


Haiku crafted especially for Week 17 of Haiku Horizons, with the prompt this time being “open.”

 

 

Haiku: Nature’s Oppositions

Hiking_20140412_9902

Dialogue with a Shadow

Master of meanings

unbeen. Verbalizing air,

eliding the light.

 

Capturing Sunlight

Both photographs ©Leigh Ward-Smith, 2014.

Dialogue with the Day

Pulley up the sun.

Harbinger, bringer, vampire,

eluding the Night.


A big thank-you to Susan at The Wizard’s Word for blogging her own haiku for the weekly prompt (week 16) at Haiku Horizons, which is currently “master.” Check them both out, why don’t you.

Four Ways of Looking at Life: Tankas

1p Pablo Picasso (Spanish artist, 1881–1973) Cat eating a bird 1939

I found this painting, from 1939 by Pablo Picasso, on the excellent “It’s About Time” blog, which I encourage you to visit. The blogger is a historian who promises a “little museum” in each of her blogs. The work above is titled “Cat eating a bird” and is not to be confused with Picasso’s painting “Cat catching a bird.”

These four tanka poems are meditations on yesterday’s Daily Prompt on WordPress. (As to the lateness, all I can say is that Nature took me out of circulation for a few days with the influenza virus.)

Daily Prompt: Talking in Your Sleep

Have you ever eavesdropped on a conversation you weren’t supposed to? Tell us about a time when it was impossible not to overhear a conversation between people who didn’t know you were there. What was the conversation about? How did it make you feel?

Photographers, artists, poets: show us ACCIDENT.

My question to myself turned out to be: how do you [or the character/protagonist] perceive the event? One woman’s “accident” or crisis might be another’s serendipitous moment. Or, as the axiom goes, is it a danger or an opportunity?

How does your narrative on chance occurrences, which are part and parcel of life, go?

*****

The Menace of Time

Nature brooks no near
mishap. Only full-tilt grief,
and aftershocked hearts.
At last, we are animals
cowering as Time devours.
********************************
Accidentally Your Child

To see your photos–
colors scoring my aged lens–
how you made yourself
a cocoon, walled silently
against the uproar of me.
*********************************
Unplanned

It occurs to me
that even you loved someone once.
Bubbly and girlish.
But reality implodes
even the best emotions.
**********************************
The serendipity of us

Happenstance
that I met you at all, much
less that circumstance
cut us out compatibly
mind to mind, cloth tailored fine.