spring zephyr

south wind
it blows wildly
sound rushes through treetops
directional wave of grass
pushes

 

pushes
squeaky windmill
empty swings randomly
hapless birds trying to fly straight
tired

 

tired
of the battle
we walk along with wind
find fallen branches to pick up
gather

 

gather
gardening tools
desire to plant flowers
but fear wind will beat petals off
too strong

 

too strong
mow lawn instead
fragrant clippings breeze by
young squirrels chase each other’s tails
south wind

 


Cinquain chain (5 stanzas of 5 lines each) in Crapsey form (2-4-6-8-2 syllable lines) connecting with Laura, our host for MTB challenge at dVerse Poets

war no more

winds of war blowing

fear mongers grab for power

all men are as grass

someday every knee will bow

before Jesus, King of kings


This past week Russia invaded Ukraine. Posting for CDHK time challenge here

green is good for the eyes

A ghazal (pronounced “guzzle”)

memories softened by time passed far away from lush green grass of home
by day children played, at night bunnies strayed across green grass of home.

life disappointments and tears trickle, even envy may green-prickle when
seems the other side of white picket fence enjoys greener grass of home.

invest in ground cover with copious hours and sweat like lover; in winter recover
sow & fertilize, grow & water, mow & rake, for lawn’s sake, greenest grass of home.

learn to see beauty best in natural spaces that sprout with dandelions’ sunny faces
content as a lark who builds nest to rest, near prairie-tall green grasses of home.

at the end of my days, i’ll sleep under sod, then awake amazed in presence of God
to know my soul has reached heaven’s goal: the sweet shalom-green grass of home.

master basho

Frank Tassone invites us to write haibuns on Basho/Shakespeare at dVerse Poets.


 

Matsuo Basho lived simply and walked lightly on the island of Japan. His tiny home was in the village of Edo. One spring day, Basho felt restless and decided to travel by foot across the country. He went in search of cherry blossoms. For his journey, Basho wore a paper hat, black robe, and woven grass sandals. He carried his ink stone and writing paper wrapped in a cloth.

He followed the winding river, sat in a cool waterfall cave, and visited a thousand-yr.-old twin pine. Eventually, he came to an orchard of blossoming cherry trees! A farmer loaned him a horse to ride through a vast, grassy field. He took baths in hot springs and swam in the sea. He ate whatever he found or was given along the way: vegetables, wild rice, noodles, fish.

In the mountains, Basho joined friends for a full moon party. Drinking tea and rice wine, they composed poems together about the night sky. Basho often stopped in his travels to quietly listen and observe. He watched the fog, heard grasshoppers, touched an iris, and tasted rain. Focusing on the moment made Matsuo a haiku master.

 

do not bash basho

170px-Frog_Getsuju

wikipedia image

named himself “banana tree”

writer of frog pond

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Information on Basho’s life taken from a lovely children’s book, Grass Sandals, by Dawnine Spivak with beautiful illustrations by Demi.

 

summer evening

firefly

longing for the grass
at the bottom of the pool
those fireflies.

© Buson

longing for the grass
blades wave under prairie wind
rustle in ditches

at bottom of pool
crawdads and minnows asleep
moon passes over

elusive fireflies
hide in long grasses near pond
flicker on and off

© lynn

 


Image and troiku challenge celebrating Carpe Diem Haiku Kai’s 7th anniversary!

frost poetry season

Screen Shot 2019-10-11 at 5.09.20 AM

 


The season’s first frost woke me early so playing magnetic poetry online …

joy of light series

Continuing series for retreat at Carpe Diem Haiku Kai….

 

XIX.

 

sun burns away fog

coaxes spring’s newly green grass

sparrows twitter joy

 

joy of light series

Haiku written for today’s “hourglass” challenge and starting the 30-day “joy of light” series at Carpe Diem Haiku Kai, with host, Chévrefeuille.


 

I.

sparkling drops of dew

wet jewels on blades of grassshimmering dew

reflect bright sunlight

 

 

 

 

 

a fresh intuition

 

Screen Shot 2019-03-16 at 1.29.41 PM

(magnetic poetry online)

taka tanka

“Taka” is Japanese word for hawk. “Tanka”is Japanese poetry form.

10190-close-up-of-a-red-tailed-hawk-pv

 

red-tailed predator

eyes alert, talons sharpened,

silent as fence post

waits for slightest rustling

small creature disturbs switch grass

 

 

peace…and quiet?

 

pack me light

stamped for camp

undress the stress

in quiet wilderness

 

where grass rustles

stream gurgles clear

beaver crew bustles

clouds thunder near

 

meadow lark sings

mosquitos start riot

forest tree rings

stones, alone, silent

 


Listen to the “sounds of silence” with Dwight tonight at dVerse Poets pub…

 

white Christmas (lite)

 

blanc fluff dusts tips of

evergreen branches; softens

brittle spikes of frozen grass

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