yes and no, ready
or not, laughing and cursing–
the horizon holds
its hand out—question, prayer,
breath—stilled on the wind’s border
Frank at dVerse asked us to write a jisei (Japanese death poem)
antipodal
tanka
November 2020
What does the moon say
as she fills and empties her
self in the night sky?
Each journey is strewn with stars
shining vast beyond measure–
to be full is to
become empty, to begin
over, opening,
bestowing gifts–passages
gathered, awakening, new.
Still feeling the moon.
nightfog
I had a lot of false starts with the Oracle this morning. She definitely wanted to talk about both shadows and the sea. This is where I ended up.
mist shadows
recall blue moonlight
whispering
dreamlike languages
on seas of no sleep
And it does reflect the kinds of nights I’ve been having. Once again, art from the archives.
snow goose
parallel rhythms
fan into a V—to lead
and then to follow
opening I ride currents
weaving feathers with the wind
For Frank Tassone’s #haikai challenge goose. I chose to paint snow geese. It’s not draw a bird day, but any day is appropriate for birds.
It’s been a challenge for me to get any work done that I like, both with writing and art. I decided to do some ink and brush painting for the goose. This is an unforgiving medium, but one I enjoy, and the focus required was good for me. I spent an enjoyable hour painting, ending up as always with a pile of discards, but with a few worth posting.
I am continually reminded of my drawing teacher who told us that of every 100 drawings we did, only one would be worth saving–so draw, draw, draw.
navigations
superimposed lines–
pick them up, examine
the landscapes beneath,
follow the intersections–
the map of bodyworn years
I chose the theme for Colleen’s #Tanka Tuesday prompt #192, Maps, but did not get a chance to post my response. When I pulled it out to look at it this morning it took awhile to remember my creative process.
I wanted to use a map of NYC and a self-portrait and layer them somehow. I had seen a layered piece of art that used holes cut in the top layer which I liked. The challenge was to make the holes work with the portrait underneath.
As usual, I managed to take off a few years from my face in my drawing, but otherwise I think it’s a pretty good likeness. Our faces contain many maps, but sometimes you have to look closely to see them.
co(r)vid nights
For Frank Tassone’s #haikai challenge 151, autumn storm/darkness. I wanted a much gentler vision, but the Oracle was having no part of it.
delirious sleep
pounding its raw grey stormchant
wind language dreaming
mad with shadows whispering
in a momentary light
on a clear night the moon shines full into my window
Jupiter swimming
in the wake of August moon–
clouds whisper sky sea
memories of ocean blue tides
rising almost full at dusk
Jupiter is really bright in the night sky these days. A few days ago it moved right above the moon across the sky. The night before that the moon rose luminous in the blue dusk.
Last night it was a beautiful gold, but my close up turned it white.
For Frank Tassone #haikai challenge, Sturgeon moon, and Peter Frankis at dVerse, looking out the window.
waterfall
beginnings fall in
to ends—threads of song braided
into rainbowed clouds
light and form cascade, flying
in tandem—mist layered sky
For Frank Tassone’s Haikai Challenge #149, waterfall, and inspired by Ken Gierke’s wonderful photos of Niagara Falls.
Obituaries (revised)
the language of gone–
a call without a response,
so loud it can’t be
heard—a silence entombed in
itself—on the other side
My poem “Obituaries”, is one of the responses to Joaquin Torres Garcia’s painting, “Pintura” (below), posted on The Ekphrastic Review today. The three poems on this post were composed from parts of it.
Frank at dVerse challenged us to write some 5-line Japanese form poems. I must confess that I like the 5-7-5-7-7 form of the tanka, now considered by purists to be false. Whatever you call it, I still think it works well as a way to focus thought and express feelings.
the language of absence
language of gone
the before of never
silence entombed
the language of death
The new definitions for writing tanka and haiku confuse me, and I have no idea how to write something that will satisfy the powers that be, although I keep writing 3 and 5-line poems. And although I recognize a well-written gogyohka, and understand the single line-single breath idea, I have difficulty naming anything I’ve written with that label as well.
language
forbidden
remains
a response
of absence
But and so…in my continued pruning mode, I’ve taken the posted poem (which was itself severely pruned several times) and turned it into three 5-line poems. Hopefully they fit the dVerse prompt in some manner.
My thanks to editor Lorette C. Luzajic for once again featuring my work. You can see my poem “Obituaries”–the original from which these 5-line poems were taken–and read all the other responses as well, here.
as morning returns
I consulted the Oracle while considering Sue Vincent’s photo prompt, above. This morning I was up as the sun was rising and even though there are no trees nearby I could hear the birds waking the day as they do every spring. It was a welcome sound.
I did a lot of fiddling myself with the art–first I painted a soft background, and then I did some more intense stripes on a separate piece of paper. I cut those up and tried a number of arrangements. It wasn’t exactly what I had in mind when I started, but satisfying nonetheless.
as morning returns
light fiddles with sky
mist, the thousand green forest
languages, blue wind
whispers of pink moon gardens–
dream shadows swimming through time
K. 