2/27/17

The Final Three in a Month of Haiku

Day 26: 
 marriage vows failed, old words pollinate the new
our past in arrears -- balance now due


Day 27:  
 twisting tree
rooted in granite
finds warm sun


Day 28
winter mists on autumn reds, she tramps between the green



2/25/17

three new haiku

One of the things I really appreciate about NaHaiWriMo is the excellent articles on haiku they share. Here's a good one: Shasei: Sketch from Nature . . . with that in mind, here are the next three.



Day 19's prompt was "cherry blossom" but I didn't want to write mushy nonsense, so this: 
writhing snake hisses
flushed bud wilts, wanes to grey, winks as time passes


Day 20 prompt: write something seasonal, unique or special to your area:

even in autumn
before rain and during dry
toadstools flourish




I incorporated days 21-25 prompts: falling, leaf, human nature, the word "to" in a short haiku



2/19/17

A Month of Haiku: Part Three

Day 12

It’s ‘copter-wings spin
seedling leaps from twigged restraint
rooted crash digs deep


Day 13:

he is luminous
hope’s beacon, blameless and pure –
peeking through grim haze


Day 14:

the way is the way,
and both prince and pauper hop
to cricket’s lonely rhyme


Day 15:

infant grown, now cries ---
tingling pain of leaking breasts
calls child home again


Day 16: 

tight grip on decaying stem drizzled rain teases talons


Day 17: 

a pearl veiled
in slow time, incandescent
hope creeping through cracks
swells and bleeds, blithely dreaming
quiet gloaming, recoils, fades   



Day 18: 







2/12/17

A Month of Haiku -- Part 2

Mostly, I'm staying on track. But, sometimes, the day gets away from me and then I play catch up. Here are the next offerings -- plus this great article with some handy tips on writing haiku. Enjoy!



Day 6:
seasonal spell which we timidly seek -- 
green blade unfurls


Day 7:
blood red splash in crystal glass -- 
memory of night pales

Day 8:
thunder sets tempo
slow-step salsa, raindrop rave
frees earth’s dreaming bulbs

Day 9:
dingy cloud veils eyes
that peer into yours’ -- over
crumpled burning leaves

Day 10:
one chance rift forever shattering treasure
cracked ice from edge to center

Day 11:
honor’s badge, not shame --
soiling hands that gently tend;
birth is never clean


2/5/17

A Month of Haiku

Day 4
What fun! Apparently, February has a writing challenge I was not aware of -- for the last seven years, even! Welcome to NaHaiWriMo --  and please note, you are no longer restricted to 5-7-5 and will even find some great resources on the art of writing haiku.

In the meantime, here are my first five days' worth. Enjoy!

Day 1:
hidden delight
no 5-7-5!
frozen mind thaws

Day 2:
firm wood cushions
buttocks well-padded
by winter's long stare

twitching tail and
unwinking eye -- 
thirst for spring's bird

Day 3:
Inverted “V”
hands over head, young legs spread --
new readers seed wakening soil.

Day 5:
while I shrink inside,
he passes by, his gloved hands
shaping ice-covered snowmen

9/9/16

I've Missed You So


Day 9's prompt: All things suck until one life-changing event . . . hmmm . . .


"If at first, you don't succeed . . ." Bailey paused, and Julius continued, "Just throw that shit out?"

"That's my preference," Bailey crumpled the letter. Three times she had tried to write, and each time she crumpled the paper up, tossing it out. How does one give parents important news when they refused to acknowledge your existence?

"It's your life, babe." Julius kissed her forehead. "Gotta run. Late for work."

"Go on." Bailey watched Julius walk down the sidewalk and disappear around the corner.

She sighed, shaking her head. Her parents steadily rebuffed every attempt to reach out to them. Bailey had celebrated Thanksgiving and birthdays alone for the first time in her life. Cards and presents were returned unopened. Phone calls went unanswered. Doors were left locked. Once she and Julius got together, her parent's had firmly closed their hearts and home to her.

Bailey had cried too many times to count on Julius shoulder, going through what seemed like boxes of tissue. She didn't know what to do, except say screw it and move on. She was losing her ability to hope, and just felt beaten down. Her body literally ached. Although that could be the radiation treatment effects, too.

Bailey wandered into the kitchen, uncovered her aging cellphone, and took a deep, steadying breath before dialing with shaky fingers.

She was getting ready to disconnect the call, when it suddenly picked up.

"Bailey?" A familiar voice wrapped itself around Bailey's heart, squeezing gently.

"Mom?" Bailey felt tears sting her eyes. "Mommy?"

"Oh, sweet girl," her mother breathed softly into the phone. "I've missed you so."

Bailey sat slowly down in her chair, feeling something unclench inside. "Oh. mom," she said, "I've missed you so. I have so much to tell you."


Just One More Bounce, Please

On to week 2 of September's writing challenge. Day 8's prompt is to write a story about wanting something and not having the power to get it, once, twice, thrice . . . until . . .

"He really is intent on his playing, isn't he?"

Jana smiled fondly across the park at her four-year old grandson, energetically bouncing his stuffed Tigger against the wooden play structure, singing with atonal enthusiasm, "The most wonderful thing about Tiggers . . . is Tiggers are wonderful things!"

"He's says Tigger is always asking for just one more bounce. It's like Robin thinks that ragged old toy is alive. I swear, the interior life of a child knows no bounds."

"Do you think he remembers?"

Jana took her eyes off Robin and looked her oldest friend somberly. "If there's any justice in the world, at all, no."

Both adults looked across at the giggling child and the stuffed Tigger. Robin had tucked Tigger under one arm, scrambling up the toy. At the top, he dropped Tigger to the ground, with the injunction to remember, "They're tops are made out of rubber. They're bottoms are made out of springs!"

The Tigger landed awkwardly on the beauty bark below the Big Toy and fell to one side. Robin climbed over the side and jumped after Tigger. Jana half-stood, heart in mouth, to holler, "Robin, stop!" and watched as the boy landed gracefully, snatching Tigger up and hugging him tight.

"I also swear he thinks he can fly." Jana shook her head, heaving a sigh, half-watching Robin as she packed empty sandwich wrappers and juice boxes into Robin's Tigger-themed lunchbox. She paused, listening to Robin's piping voice explain that Tigger's " . . . tops are made out of rubber . . . and bottoms are made out of springs!" ending with a plea to Tigger to "just how him one little bounce, all on his very own."

"The therapist thinks how he plays with Tigger, asking him to show him just one little bounce is how he's processing what he saw when . . . " Jana felt bile rising in her throat, with its now-familiar gag reflex kicking in. She swallowed convulsively and looked off across the playground, her eyes swimming.

"I'm so sorry, Jana. This is more than you ever bargained for, isn't it?"

Her friend paused, and then stood up herself, brushing the bits of bark off her pants and tugging her coat more firmly down around her hips. "When do you think he'll be able to attend preschool so you can come back to work? We miss you."

Jana snorted. "Who knows?" and gave her friend a quick hug before heading over to where Robin sat, cradling his Tigger in his arms, eyes far away fixed on some hidden memory.

Jana could hear the quaver in Robin's voice as he stroked the Tigger's head. "It's okay, Tigger. You'll bounce when you're ready to . . . I know you will."

Jana sat quietly down next to Robin. She could feel the wintry sun on her back, while a brisk breeze ruffled her prematurely graying hair into her eyes.

Robin looked up at her. "I can't remember the next words, Gramma. Tigger won't bounce if I can't remember the words." Tears started to fill his eyes and Jana smiled reassuringly.

"We'll sing it together, Robin, okay?"

He nodded, and Jana started at the beginning in a low and soothing voice. Robin sang with her, his voice steadying. By the time they reached, "They're bouncy, flouncy, pouncy, trouncy," Robin was up and jumping himself, thumping the Tigger's spring-loaded legs vigorously onto the metal slide next to him . . . "fun, fun, fun, fun, FUN!"

"Catch, Gramma!" Robin charged back up the Big Toy, and dropped Tigger into Jana's waiting hands. She obligingly held Tigger.

"Bounce him, Gramma, bounce him!"

Jana leaned down, bouncing Tigger off of the beauty bark beneath her feet while Robin slid down the slide, singing at the top of his lungs, "But, by far the most wonderful thing about Tiggers is he's the only one!"

Jana handed the Tigger over to her grandson, and held out her hand.

"Let's head home. It's nap-time."

Robin pulled away, dashing back up the Big Toy.

"Just one more bounce, Gramma, please? One more? Please?"