volatile situation

Chevrefeuille at Carpe Diem Haiku Kai hosts haiku/troiku prompt.  He gifts us with first line: “when every gust of wind.”  Each stanza of troiku begins with next line from original haiku.

 

when every gust of wind
fans bright flames of fire higher
smoke and ashes whirl

________

when every gust of wind
exhales crackles, sizzles, pops
wood door comes unhinged

fans bright flames of fire
higher heat of inferno
old shed roof crumbles

smoke and ashes whirl
choking billows engulf all
inhale acrid breath

 

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photo by lynn

 

 

to eden’s rest

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cry after recalling rain

 

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I admit to selecting more (and more) words to complete this magnetic poem.

*blowin’ in the wind

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earth’s richest

black prairie sod

iowa: “beautiful land”

created by God

claimed by man

wrested from dakota hand

busted, homesteaded,

settled, plowed and

tightly fenced now

as livestock farmers

raise calves from cows

how long sustainable?

dust bowl-like shroud

wind so untamable

we’re losing ground!


*Title from a favorite Bob Dylan song…he recently received a Nobel Peace Prize.  (One good thing about a wet fall this year is less dirt in the air.)

magnetic poet

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Magnetic Poetry Saturday Challeng by the Elusive Trope  🙂

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leafless not lifeless

CDHK prompt from Jane Reichhold’s “Dictionary of Haiku”:  leafless trees

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photo by lynn

 

 

ghostly silhouettes

naked exposure to wind

squirrels find hollow

yokoburi at risefest

The Japanese, who invented haiku, are so “tuned in” to weather and seasonal changes that they actually have 50 different words for rain!  Yokoburi means “driving rain”, as Toni explains at dVerse Poets while serving up haibuns.

 

The northern sky looks dark but we clutch our tickets and lawn chairs, scanning the crowd for an open spot of grass. Undiminished by wringer of day’s work in humidity, we feel pumped for loud, driving beats of drums and bass guitar. A preliminary speaker takes the stage; her enthusiasm covers as a squall stall. Restless for concert to begin, we leave our chairs to search for supper among the vendor stands: pizza by the slice, walking tacos, churro bites, BBQ beef or bratz on bun, cookie on a stick, warm funnel cakes and cold lemonade. We chat with a mom and her stepsons at our picnic table; sharing napkins, talking about noisy boys. Then we wander back to our seats as band takes the stage, under threatening clouds. Let the music begin! Two songs in, clapping crowd is hushed by announcement to go to our cars as a storm is rolling in. A controlled chaos ensues as a thousand people simultaneously fold up camp and head for the parking lot. A strong gust of wind pushes us over tangled net fences to the relative shelter of our cars. A wild prairie storm steals show as headliner tonight.

outdoor concert rips

rain blows across tattered stage

hail drums staccato

sevenling (fantasy)

 

if dust were diamonds,

asphalt was gold, and

trees’ leaves paper money,

 

we’d sneeze on greed

drive over wealth, con~

sider banks quite funny!

 

fantastical, our discontent would blow away with wind~

 


Linking to dVerse Poetics with Lillian on “fantasy” theme…

 

air in motion

our atmosphere

photo by S. Etole

Photo credit:  S. Etole

is making some

commotion here

 

wind blows

chinook whips

zephyr flows

tempest grips

norther howls

westerly stalls

squall prowls

microburst falls

 

yes, it will please

to dry the laundry

on soft breeze

 

but gusty gale

 

frames a pout

when all umbrellas

turn inside out!

 

 


Sharing with TweetSpeak Poetry…

 

 

as the farmer…life

 

as intense eyes

scan darkening skies,

playful wind flaps shirt sleeves.

 

as strong shoulders

stack square hay bales,

rising dust covers tanned skin.

 

as nimble feet

climb grain bin ladder,

straw chaff infiltrates flaxen hair.

 

as skillful hands

manipulate diverse tools,

old grease wedges under fingernails.

 

as experienced ears

attune engines musical noise,

stale soybeans nest in jean pockets.

 

as determined teeth

test corn kernel moisture,

rich manure clings to chore boots.

 

as gentle arms

carry bawling calf or kitten,

pelting rain drips off seed cap bill.

_______

This is a “list poem”, 

inspired by and dedicated to my farmer.

Linked to d’Verse Poets

 

going postal in deep freeze

 

clinging to mail with both hands

in the face of a whipping wind,

 

i trek down long gravel driveway

making heavy footprints in snow.

 

my body is wrapped in layers

with only squinting eyes exposed.

 

mitten tugs on stiff metal door;

it opens with protesting creak

to accept offering of bills paid.

 

i brush out powder blown in,

make a careful deposit, slam

door and set red flag upright.

 

mailbox swings from its chains;

wind stronger, colder at roadside.

 

snow-dusted cows watch

curiously as i trundle back to

farmhouse, leaving fresh tracks.

 

later today, i will dress again

to repeat the ritual, hoping for

a handwritten envelope hidden

between all the advertisements!