Linking to Eliot Dybden’s Shadorma November at Along the Interstice. A shadorma has six lines with no rhyme or meter, except for a syllable structure of 3/5/3/3/7/5.
The forbidden love between the lowly Ferhad and the princess Shirin is an old Persian love story. Ferhad killed himself in the desert when he was tricked into believing that Shirin was dead. Hearing of Ferhad’s death, Sherin then killed herself because she could not live without him. Subsequently the two were buried together. It’s similar to the Shakespearian tragedy of Romeo and Juliet.
Join Victoria at dVerse Poets for this week’s haibun prompt: Who? Who? Fukuroo!
Late one winter afternoon, I strap on snowshoes, grab my poles and make tracks in powder. The dusky sky glows pale pink as I shush into deep silence. Spruces dusted with fresh snow, wear skirts of blue-hued drifts and beckon me to maneuver their folds. I am tramping a wonderland beneath thin-fingered canopy of ash tree silhouettes. Startled, I flinch as a heavy winged shadow glides closely overhead with a swish-sh-sh of displaced air. An owl swoops low before sweeping onto a bare upper branch fifty yards ahead. I approach cautiously as owl’s head swivels toward me. Notice the unmistakable tufts like ears…it’s the great-horned fukuroo of my dreams!
Joining Carpe Diem Haiku Kai‘s weekend challenge on sunflower theme. I wrote the prose, followed by a haiku from our host!
wild sunflower – photo by lynn
The sight of sunflowers warms my heart, although my farmer hubby says they’re a weed. I remember as a child planting a few sunflowers in the backyard on east side of detached garage. The plants grow faster than children and their sunny faces exude happiness bright as summer sun. When autumn comes, their smiles fade, petals dry, and seeds mature. Oh, what a joyous feast for the birds! Sparrows flutter and cling to droopy head to peck tasty seeds. We let them eat the raw seeds as we prefer the roasted, salted variety. Dad would have a bag along to ball games or car races where we’d leave striped shells scattered under the bleachers; shells sucked dry of salt until the tips of our tongues went numb. On vacation, I still thrill at roadside sightings of expansive fields of sunflowers; their golden heads tipped toward the sun. On my walks, spotting more diminutive wild versions in the ditches (NOT our fields) brings a smile to my face.
Joining dVerse poets with quadrille #44 for “kicks” tonight 🙂 A “quadrille” is a poem of exactly 44 words, not including title…I counted hyphenated words as 2.
Joining dVerse Poets and Victoria’s “erasure poem” prompt. I took mine from a non-fiction Maters of Art book, The Story of Architecture, by Francesco Milo.
feudal lords
built castles to
protect against
barbarians assailing
timber stockade
consisting of mound
palisade and ditch
motte-and-bailey castle
mighty stone towers or
keeps designed in
combination of gate-
house and outer wall
fortified residences
feudal nobility dwell
in relative safety
houses huddle
around in village
walled formidably
then advent of
artillery and cannon
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