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Haibun Monday at dVerse tonight and here is our topic from Toni Spencer.
I was reading the Night Before Christmas and was struck by the last line of the story poem: And to all a goodnight! I liked that ending as much as I liked Scrooge’s conversion in his story, A Christmas Carol.
So in keeping with the season or not, let us write a haibun about a good night. It can be a good night’s sleep, a fun time with family and/or friends, a night spent alone, a memorable Christmas night you tried to stay awake and wait to see Santa, a night out camping in the wilds, out sledding in the moonlight, your first date…any good night you wish to write about as long as 1)It is non-fiction 2) It happened directly to you 3) One to two tight paragraphs 4) You end it with a classical seasonal haiku.
I am keeping this posting short and simple.
If you are new to the pub, welcome! Here’s how to join in:
• Write you poem and post it on your blog or website.
• Copy and paste the URL into Mr. Linky at the bottom of this post.
• Link your poem to your social media sites, inviting others to join in.
• Return to the pub and visit/comment on your fellow poets.
• Have a good time!
Wishing you all the joys of this season. God Bless us every one!
Tonight I knew what I wanted to post and it was something I wrote sometime ago…rather than just regurgitate it, I went back and read it and then attempted a re-write.
This is it here.
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I stand under a moon so full it feels as if she is about to kiss me. Winter approaches and the cold air wraps itself like coils of icy smoke about my fingers. Fingers which hold up the quartz Crystal against the bright lunar disc that lights up the hill, The Hill of Tara, upon which I stand. A chant rolls out from deep within my being and the words that tumble from within me are unknown to me until they form. Spoken freely and with a deep reverence they are offered up to the night and are pulled, as if moths toward the celestial orb.
I am singing to the Áes dána here in their ancient homeland. Within the quartz chamber movement unfolds. A wisp at first and then more form. Before my very eyes a being is dancing within the crystal, silhouetted by the lunar goddess. It is Magic. Pure and simple. I close my eyes and cold silver white lips brush softly across mine. I breathe deeply and smell the earth rising up towards my nostrils, more cleanly than I ever have before. Peaty and damp, it lines my being. I am home.
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This moon on this Hill
Ancestors walked here and sang
Winter songs of power
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