darkness increases
gathering the light of stars
turning in stillness
My December grid and words for Frank Tassone’s #Haikai Challenge of Advent.
December and winter have indeed arrived.
grid
November 2019
flames of memory
crossing in both directions–
past and present fuse
For dVerse OLN, hosted by Linda, and Frank Tassone’s seasonal #Haikai Challenge #110.
October 2019
For my grid this month I decided to try something different–I consulted the collage box oracle for the haiku and incorporated the words into the grid. I tried both photographing and scanning it, but neither exactly captured the colors–they had a strange red cast. I had a little better luck adjusting them in Photoshop with the scanned image, above.
who you are connects
the transit of where you are
to the shape of next
I’m also linking this to Colleen’s #TankaTuesday, poet’s choice of words.
I’m finally seeing some yellow leaves on the street trees outside this morning. But tomorrow is supposed to be 90 degrees…
(more) blue
we begin
as vessels, empty,
all this space
waiting to
find the right oceans—ancient
echoes wandering–
all-that-is
transformed into an
azure song,
composed from
whispers of traces—spirals
mirroring the sea
A shadorma duo for Colleen’s #TankaTuesday poet’s choice of words. The art inspiration is via Mish at dVerse, who introduced us to artist Beverly Dyer, and asked for an ekphrastic response to one of her paintings. I chose her grid, “Blue Story”, above, and did my own grid to match with pieces of ocean and sky.
The poem was also inspired by Joni Mitchell.
September 2019
covered with voices
songs like the rattle of bones
a chorus of leaves
mirroring the wind
spiraling dances transformed
with patterns winging
newly colored hours
stillness in constant motion
shadowing the light
My September grid, and an autumn contemplation for Frank Tassone’s #haikai challenge 102.
The elements are turning.
August (2019)
Is it the sky I seize when my hand reaches out to touch the storm of rain? Or do the heavens remain behind the veil, rainbowed and unclouded, waiting for the thunderings of the gods to echo into quietude as they follow the flashes of light to the edge of the horizon?
Everything around me is covered with drops of liquid light.
Gaia, drunk with the season’s retreat, builds an improvised framework out of the movements of the moon.
I look for the line
between now and again, where
flower becomes seed–
All is stillness, dense, restless–
leaves shiver, rattled by wind.
A haibun for my August grid, using the prompt words clear and nature from Colleen’s #TankaTuesday. Last night’s thunderstorm seemed to be straddling seasons. Two of Jane Dougherty’s recent poems, “Damp Morning” and “Stories” are similar in feeling.
The grid and poem started out in the same general area but were revised in different directions I think. Well, my drawing teachers always emphasized the importance of contrast in art–what isn’t there being as necessary as what is. It’s up to the reader/watcher to fill in the blanks with what they need.
July 2019
sun sand ocean sky–
I feel the colors sounding,
shimmering like wings,
merging like half-remembered
melodies—fragments of light
For July, I’m thinking of the beach, with a tanka for Colleen’s Tanka Tuesday, poet’s word choice.
