Fooled ya, didn't I?
"It is with a strange malice / That I distort the world." -- from The W
Haibun - Biography of the Words in My Mouth
Ah, words—the ring and gong of letter blends! The slide and gurgle along my teeth and tongue! How lovely in my hand the weight and wisp! The sensual curve and sharp angle! Oh, how mysterious upon the page, bright beneath my pen!—To read them, to write them, to study them and understand them: this affair will and has consumed me.
Mourn upon the pageArtist eyes, a poet’s heartWords without verses
I trust my daydreams and my technique (after so many years of schooling with such a small degree to show), little fictions that tickle my fancy and waste my time. Even so, I long for the juicier wordplay, economy and fantasy like drips of chocolate that leave marks of its presence for years, for generations, for readers to come. Then, after so many years of waiting and wanting, I am not the poet; she is born and breathes within me, someone else. Strange, that my daydreams should finally fill my skin until I overflow.
The inner poetA journey, a hopeful stillnessAnd words not mine own
Be still, my heart!
Pat, what an excellent choice! I think I could get hooked on this form. A chance to practice both prose and poetry, who could ask for more.
My Crowning Autumn (Haibun)
My fall lawn is sprinkled with discarded ornaments of the sycamore, maple and oak trees that line the street where I have lived for thirty five years. At each autumn's peak I am amazed as if watching through a young child's eyes, to the season's beauty. Yet while all these glorious colours unfold before me, I find a wisp of sadness as the suppleness, bursts of growth and greenery of youth is replaced with by the hues of aging.We lieTogetherAwash in silence
I enjoy watching the starlings with their plumped bellies scurry to winterize their nests.And the sounds of autumn breathe a breath of freshness to my spirit in a timpani beat. The wind whistles it's lonely warning cry through the near naked limbs; my thoughts rest in the nooks of the bare branches while I listen to the birds chirp--I like to imagine they are saying my name.
Orange mist Fades sadlyDistant song in flight
I compete with the squirrels for chestnuts, acorns and the pinecones that pepper the walkways. I bring a bit of nature inside with a wicker basket filled to the rim. When it's too chilled to sit outdoors I can gratefully enjoy my basket of autumn treasures I've garnished with cinnamon sticks and cloved orange rinds.If I could have but one month to hold for the rest of my life it would be that which delights all my senses, October.
It endsWhere it startsThe circle's complete
Edited 11/10/2005 9:29 am ET by char307
Edited 11/10/2005 4:17 pm ET by char307
Edited 11/10/2005 4:40 pm ET by char307
Edited 11/10/2005 4:42 pm ET by char307
Mother prepared oatmeal and cinnamon toast
Good work, M!
Pat... wrote this early this morning...guess I was thinking ofbreakfast that lately consists of raisin cinnamon bagelscream cheese and coffee. Can't believe I had the nerve topost it at
I laughed right out loud. What a great post! I love that your haiku reads like a proverb. I hope that it was as fun to write as it was to read. Thanks for the chuckle!