I sat in the grove of this October beech cathedral, my heart bursting with autumnal spirit-song. Sometimes nature just does that too me. Around me stood those giants, old, gentle and wise. They had seen it all and yet even they were in awe of the river. Millions of tiny droplets leaping from stone to stone in a game of flow, fueled by a recent deluge.
Clean crisp air, with a whisper of Winter notes, brought to my senses the smell of earth. The smell of the river, whose journey reflects the nature of things. Every moment I stare into it’s movement is new and fresh. The only constant is change. What appears to be there is not. I am still. The beech too. The river is flowing.
The world is new this morning as my breath blows small clouds into being. They form briefly then disappear into the thin cold air. Such cloud making is a deep life affirmation. Nothing quite like seeing your own breath. Days like this tingle you alive.
The trees are glistening with early sun dancing on the hoar frosted branches. Crystals winking magic at me. It is a wonderland and I am awestruck by it’s beauty. I am aware of the blessing of life. The privilege I am gifted. I breathe in, deeply and smile.
breath in and breath out
winter’s silent rhythm sounds~
frozen in the now
submission for dVerse Haibun Prompt Shimo no koe~ first frost
I write the way I write because I have no choice in the matter other than to get out of the way of the words that wish to come dance this very day in this space. This very moment. Tomorrow will be different and yesterday may inform today but it will never dictate what should come. If it tried it would be ignored like some old newspaper stained with grease from the chips it once held. It’s moment has been and gone. Until that is the wind of change blows it once more to be visible in my eye line where a glimpse of the headline prompts my muse to engage in the ritual writes and the door flies open allowing these very words to land here. Now.
Kissing the sky with my mind I sit quietly and stare at the changeling, as she opens. The
old beech tree standing there singing in the corner of the field. She is so beautiful, wise,
matriarchal in her stature and I love her. There is a deep connection here that always opens up in me as this autumnal bridge leads me stepping towards the dark winter.
Reaching within, to silence, I call on her to sink her colour into my being, that each and every leaf bring a blessing, a song, a prayer to carry my own fire into the cold and often bleak months that will follow. She answers always with a majesty and i know i am heard
in a way that holds me in cave’s cradle until the coming spring awakens new growth.
Hello all. It is Toni once again on the Haibun Trail. Summer is slowly winding down and this morning, there was a tad bit of cool in the air – which has long since dissipated! My prompt for you all today, will hopefully make you smile and take you back to middle or high school….what did you do on your summer vacation?
Summer 1982. I’m thumbing my way through stacks of vinyl encased in cardboard sleeves. Albums. Sometimes I’m stopped by the band name. Black Sabbath. Thin Lizzy. Lynryrd Skynyrd. Anything here to add to the collection? Other times it is the album artwork that grabs my attention and today I pull out a square that looks like a chalked on blackboard. I’m drawn to the imagery and to the title. ‘What we did on my our holiday s’ by Fairport Convention. It was a band I’d heard of but not listened to. I bought it.
Back in my room at the student halls of residence I slid the vinyl out of the album cover and then out of the paper inner. Carefully. Handling the record by it’s edges and smelling that fresh pressed vinyl smell I sat the album on the deck. Something so satisfying about lining up the hole with the rod. Gently I placed the needle on the edge of this groove spiral and retreated to the optimum listening space. The pre-music crackle piqued my anticipation and from the opening picked guitar and Sandy’s vocal I was entranced.
Today Victoria is hosting Haibun Monday. For today’s prompt I am asking you to consider the compelling world-view of Wabi-Sabi in writing your Haibun. You may use an imperfect object to inspire you, or choose to include a grammatical or spelling error in the prose portion of your work. I do ask, however, that you adhere to the proper form for a Haibun—that is, 1-3 tight paragraphs of non-fictional prose and a traditional Haiku that includes a reference to a season.
Notes: There is a Persian proverb, “A Persian Rug is Perfectly Imperfect, and Precisely Imprecise”. It’s said that weavers of Persian rugs create ‘mistakes’ or deliberate imperfections in their work, in recognition that the only source of perfect creation is God, the one perfect Creator. Can you spot the deliberate ‘mistake’ in the poem?
Our theme for this week’s haibun is summer! Share with us a summer memory – from a summer love to coping up with the summer heat. Or how about a summer comedy, tragedy or disaster?
Being that this is Haibun Monday, please write a haibun based on the prompt, with 1 to 2 tight paragraphs, ending with a seasonal haiku. Don’t forget to visit and comment on others poetry, especially to those who have visited you.
What to do after you have written:
Post your haibun to your blog
Add a link (direct URL address) of your poem via the ‘Mr Linky’ below
Add the link for the dVerse posting so others can find their way here
Read and comment on other people’s work to let them know it’s being read
Share via your favorite social media platforms
Most importantly, have fun!
See you at the poetry trail ~ Grace
i had just said ‘fuck it’ to everything everyone else had said I needed to do. my future was up in smoke.my life was unconventional. so were my clothes. my hair too. but i was free. oh was i free. for the first time in my life. i was the captain of the ship of me and i could sink it if i wanted to. because in that beautiful blue underworld that you all said was danger i could swim like nowhere else. and swim i did. into the places you had never dared go. all i beheld there would serve me. would inspire me. would leave me marked. indelible. tattoo’d spirit.
This is a blog about my life. It's about much more than living with cancer. It's about reading books, cold water swimming, mothering, eating. All that stuff that people who don't have cancer do. If you're looking for my poems you need to go to fmmewritespoems.wordpress.com
