My submission today is in response to the Carpe Diem prompt: passing of spring.
Chèvrefeuille invites all to “Share your haiga with us all here at our Haiku Kai. Have fun!”
Passing of Spring Haiku
Tulips bow their heads
Green leaves sway in reverence
Spring’s new dawn has passed
My submission today is in response to the Carpe Diem prompt: stars. “Enjoy this episode and let it inspire you to create a haiku, haiga or tanka, tank-art.!”
I decided to form a tiny star haiga regarding my personal response to the first time I stood on the bank of Chequamegon Bay on Lake Superior on a clear summer’s night. It was then when I realized the enormity of stars I had never before seen in the sky. (May you also be-dazzled by my humor to the double entendre degree.)
Muted orchid shade
splattered with spewing spit as
words fly from her lips
Written for Carpe Diem Haiku Kai for
Carpe Diem is celebrating its 2nd Anniversary this month! Feeling as though it’s been that long since I’ve been a part of this poetically encouraging & educational community, I wanted to stop in today to say Congratulations! to Kristjaan/Chèvrefeuille (and all the Carpe Diem Haiku family who have been a part of this wonderful site over these past two years).
Unsure my mind was creatively ready to contribute, I was thrilled to see the following invitation for a prompt: “Today we are going further along memory-lane and we have arrived at July 2013 in which all prompts were extracted from the novel “Manuscript found in Accra” by Paulo Coelho….Now it is up to you my dear Haijin, visitors and travelers to write an all new haiku (or if you were a member than back in 2013, you may also share your haiku which you created for this same prompt in July 2013).” So be it! Here’s my blast from the past on Inner Beauty:
*
in what mirror can
I see that which may escape
a world looking out
*
a world looking out
for itself with senses
dimmed from all concealed
*
no more dimmed than me
who cannot fully see who
stares from inside out
*
Spread my wings
Of broad imagination
Tip to tip
No gravity
Aim for prolific horizon
Dare not look down
*
Written on the spur of the moment (on a much-needed break from writing a scientific article) in response to:
in which the goal is to compose and link-up a haiku inspired on a given photo and a prompt within 12 hours. This feature will bring you into that “moment” as short as the sound of a pebble thrown in water, one of the base-rules of haiku.
Thanks for the loveliness of the moment! -j
The PROMPT:- The world is mud-luscious and puddle-wonderful – E.E. Cummings
I’m not sure when it happened. Somewhere, somehow, I forgot I had the gift. Early on, I was certain I was a gourmet chef when my father allowed me to graduate from heating hot tamales in a can for dinner to making scrambled eggs for the first time. At 7, these became my specialty, oozing with cheese.
So gone were the days of lesser dishes now, such as the reheating of frozen sausage and biscuits for breakfast, or the stirring of my father’s favorite delicacy – crunched saltine crackers in ice-cold milk, a side of salty sardines with the lid already peeled back.
One day, in a lightening’s flash, it all came back to me though. I walked outside, beckoned by bass drummers playing my song. My skin felt tingly to the invitation to join in, to dance and sing, to play to this tune. Within minutes, my feet stomped and splashed and squished to the rhythm, laughter erupting as my best friend joined me there.
In that moment, my memory was fully restored. My hands dug into soft dough, confidently mixing selected ingredients around. Within mere seconds, my masterpiece was completed for the offering.
taste buds never lie /
I present you my earth pie /
chocolate, I’d say***
It’s been a weekend full of events, both of the positive and the negative sort. That being said, it’s nice to have a few moments to take a quick break from “the real world” to relax and contemplate the Trifextra challenge. My overtaxed brain appreciated this relaxing little walk down memory lane…
“This weekend we’re asking you to harken back to your grade school days and write a haiku. No word restrictions, just stick to the structure as defined below.
HAIKU (noun) : an unrhymed verse form of Japanese origin having three lines containing usually five, seven, and five syllables respectively”
– See more at: http://www.trifectawritingchallenge.com/#sthash.U7c8GmqS.dpuf”
Interestingly, the last haiku I’ve written as of late was part of the Ligo Haibun challenge, where “The First Kiss” was a sweet memory from my primary school days. My mind immediately went back to that school when I read this challenge and, more specifically, to our sprawling playground area in front of it – and my favorite three recess activities.
I decided that, without word restrictions, these 3 activities could contribute perfectly to making a Trifecta-style trio of haiku.
Double Dutch rope skip:
Who will I marry today?
Recess reception.I’m head and heels over
one I called for Red Rover.
I’ll let him break through!Merry-go-round’s gone;
shared laughter long forgotten;
dizzied by passed time.Image located at URL: http://momitforward.com/avoid-over-parenting
I am so happy to rejoin The Ligo Haibun Challenge this week, as not only have I missed being a part of this community as of late, but I’ve come to adore the expression of the haibun.
Both of the prompts were fantasy-worthy this week, but as I understand it, the true style of a haibun more often (more correctly?) relates to one’s life experiences, telling the narrative or journaling the event using the prose/haiku combination. With that being said, one of the two prompts brought with it the gift of a recollection of prior days, known to many (with grinning memories) as “The First Kiss.”
The prompt was:
A kiss is a lovely trick by nature to stop speech when words become superfluous.
Ingrid Bergman
And here is my haibun response:
At the back of the room, squatted low, just beneath the level of the half bookshelf, our young, smooth fingers slid down the spines of the books, both of us searching, longing for a taste of something neither had before experienced through our youthful senses. We dared not exchange ideas or glances, for fear of being called out by our teacher. My strident eyes darted from title to title, frustration building as nothing seemed to fit the bill. A little crease of frustration formed between my eyes, convincing me that I was focusing solely on my assignment; yet I couldn’t quiet the butterflies coming to life in my stomach as his arm brushed across mine to pluck his selection from the shelf. I turned to scrutinize his choice, feeling a mixture of jealousy that he’d made one so easily, along with anxiety that he’d now be returning to his seat. As I glanced up from the cover, I was taken aback by the quick kiss that brushed against my cheek. I can’t tell you what my choice in reading material was after that moment; but I can surely tell you that he was my choice for that school year.
spent rest of that day /
hand clasped over cheek to hide /
burning sensation
in what mirror can
I see that which may escape
a world looking out
*
a world looking out
for itself with senses
dimmed from all concealed
*
no more dimmed than me
who cannot fully see who
stares from inside out
stop your wish, child, for
through trials and tribulations
patience only comes
_______________________________
Somewhere between teenage- and woman-hood, I once sat at my grandmother’s dining room table, impatiently pulling out poorly directed stitches. She leaned over my shoulder, adjusting her glasses for a better look at what the fuss was all about.
“I know, I know, ” I grumbled beneath my breath. “I just need to learn more patience.” It seemed reasonable to me to be the first to get the reprimand out in the open. Maybe it would have less sting that way.
My granny walked around the table and looked at me circumspectly. “If you thought I was going to say that, you’d be greatly mistaken. Whatever you do, don’t ever pray for patience, Jody.”
She reached on the little cubby shelf behind her to retrieve her bible, again adjusting her glasses to help her flip to the appropriate page. She turned the Good Book as she laid it out in front of me, and tapped her finger a couple of times to direct my attention.
I began reading Romans 5:3, quickly arriving at: “…knowing that tribulation worketh patience…”
My grandmother had already walked away by the time the implication was sinking in. Looking back, I’m sure she had a smirk tucked across her lips.
________________________________________
For more haiku (or to submit your own), join me at Carpe Diem.
humanTriumphant 