choir of crickets hum
tonight’s final song, a clown
sheds its mask, alone.
—
shedding: a haiku
Tag: classic poetry
on aliens and cream borders: a haibun
Piet Mondrian, ‘Broadway Boogie Woogie, 1942-43, moma.org
More than a year I have been living inside this box with no divisions. Cream borders keep me company without judging my daily dancing alone and my full-hearted concerts on my own.
Identical squared-rooms from my right and left stood the same size as mine. The closest left one is usually abandoned, an Airbnb available online. The room directly on my right has been occupied by another breath just a couple of weeks ago. We share the same rightful owner, but we remain nameless faces, after coming across each other once.
Wide glass window panes
taste the same April sky’s rage,
walls cage alien guests.
—
05.26.2020
©2020 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.
—
For dVerse Haibun Monday: Meet Piet .
For some reasons, the image above reminds me of my apartment. The many identical doors housing strangers side by side.
the garden of 17 syllables: a haibun for Basho
Five decades of wandering, in every step perhaps your heels planted seedlings of words, of love, of wisdom, of life. So much of your history remains a hidden story. We’re you a slave, a samurai, a cook, a poet, or everything and more? We can read scrolls after scrolls but never can we know.
A beautiful name you gifted yourself, Basho, after your beloved word-artist Li Po which carries the tart taste of a white plum. But no, plum did not win over your favourite plant — banana. In 17 syllables you have transformed a pair of cotyledons to a blooming spring’s cherry blossom of poetry. Until Autumn came to dry your ink in a field of golden, lifeless weeds.
short fifty years of
singing cuckoos, sorrowed snows,
timeless lines remain.
—
04.28.2020
©2020 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.
Photo by me
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.
—
For dVerse Haibun Monday 4/27/20: A Portrait of Two Masters
Basho’s last words:
旅に病んで夢は枯野をかけ廻る tabi ni yande / yume wa kareno wo / kake meguru
falling sick on a journey / my dream goes wandering / over a field of dried grass
open your eyes, see how the world undresses: a quadrille
(revolving earth
undresses, each
season unravels)
spring, peeler of
silent blue winter,
blush in pastel young
blooms, will then
succumb to laughing
rays of golden sun,
salted seas curdle
to scarlet red as
autumn conquers
the rusting lawns,
(revolving earth
undresses, each
season unravels)
—
02.25.2020
©2019 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.
Photo via Unsplash
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.
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For dVerse Quadrille #98 – Peelings, Nothing More…
Today I offer you the word “peel” to include in your quadrille.
You may use it as a noun or a verb or play with it as a derivative….peelable, unpeelable. unpeeled.
You can “peel off” or “peel out”.
Are you a “peeler”? Do you save your peelings or throw them away?
fading murmurs (a villanelle)
Soft murmurs say the end is near,
this earth will crumble, disappear.
Will you let your story end here?
Mouths gurgling aged, frozen beer,
choosing to leave peace’s hemisphere.
Soft murmurs say the end is near,
tired earth sinks under cloud of fear,
birds choke with vows so insincere,
will you let your story end here?
Even spring delays its annual cheer,
while fragile buds still persevere.
Soft murmurs say the end is near,
more hands now filled with bloodsmear.
Helpless in this cruel atmosphere,
will you let your story end here?
No, you cannot save all humans, dear,
but you can be: change’s pioneer.
Soft murmurs say the end is near,
please don’t let your story end here.
—
