jornales

for a moment of joy or moments no one pays for, i give myself a ‘jornal’. this makes me rich. try it.

winter roses (haiku at LYNX Feb 2012)


winter roses

the longing begins

at moonrise

 

Correction: It’s LYNX XXVII:I February 2012

Will do it on the image sometime later because it’s a pdf file. Sorry!

Advertisements

February 28, 2012 Posted by | haiku, poetry | , , , , , | Leave a comment

as the moon/in my palm (2 tanka at LYNX)

1. 

as the moon

transforms in sunlight

we shift roles

you into a clown, i

a hummingbird

2. 

in my palm

the fortune teller

traces lines

one slides off my destiny

away from yours

LYNX  XXVII:I February 2012

February 21, 2012 Posted by | poetry, tanka | , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 4 Comments

candles (Sketchbook haiku thread editors’ choices)

There are many beautiful haiku in this thread revealing emotions, contrasting light with darkness, and other experiences which captivated their authors and which can provide us with a multitude of meanings and feelings. (Bernard Gieske guest editor and John Daleiden, editor, Sketchbook haiku thread)

1.

vigil candles

the flicker

of mumbled prayers

2.

the steady flames

of tea candles

my mother’s prayers

3.

among mom’s

jewels

our baptismal candles

4.

graveyard visits

same candle

one prayer

5.

candlelit

his hands so deft

on the lute

6.

prayer candles

from the Virgin’s robe

the essence of roses

Sketchbook Nov-Dec 2011

February 18, 2012 Posted by | haiku, poetry | , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 6 Comments

being there/refracted twilight (my haibun at LYNX)

being there

…it is the rhythm that’s constant it seems and not the stillness—the way the wind pulls and withdraws and the way the leaves sway and retract or how the clouds gather into masses and then dissipate into air or is it merely the eye that misses the jagged movements and edges and catches merely that moment when the rhythm shows and reassures us as in the constancy of flowers even as petals begin to brown and curl in the edges and fall, stripping the branches of their name because all we recall is their being there as in moments we have flowed into still flow into like on our early morning walks when

shifting tides–

the river unloading burdens

for us to decode

refracted twilight

…first time ever that twilight struck me as that almost sacred time when the day tears away to let night slip in, how the bleeding sunset fades into lemon yellow to shell white so much so that facing west where the light seems to turn down as in a timer heartbeat by heartbeat, the houses, trees and flowers even weeds become solid walls of darkness—no punctured points on twigs, no dancing spaces between leaves—but haven’t I watched this on my daily walks long ago back in Harbor Hill but then, the roosting sparrows and the first star on tips of pines pulled my steps back to ruminate and settling in, twilight would be for us that time when

first star—

we turn down the darkness

on our own sky

(excerpts from a diary)

LYNX XXVII:I February 2012

February 7, 2012 Posted by | diary/memoir, excerpt, haibun, poetry, Uncategorized | , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 4 Comments