jornales

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

flaring petals (haiga link)

I can’t figure out how to add the visual (media) here, and so, please click on the link to view the haiga. Sorry!

 

flaring petals

breath within breath

                 their dawn

 

 

 

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April 14, 2015 Posted by | haiga | , , | Leave a comment

nagging rain & wave lashings in THF’s Per Diem February feature

My two haiku in The Haiku Foundation’s ‘Haiku in the World’ February feature on the Philippines:

 

nagging rain

on the moon’s face…

a baby’s whimper

 

The Haiku Foundation Per Diem, February 9, 2015

‘Haiku in the World’ February feature: The Philippines

Per Diem Archive on The Haiku Foundation Website, and the Haiku App

 

wave lashings—

with every breath

the shore yields

 

The Haiku Foundation Per Diem, February 1, 2015

‘Haiku in the World’ February feature: The Philippines

Per Diem Archive on The Haiku Foundation Website, and the Haiku App

 

As you could surmise, both haiku rise from images of natural disasters which had wrought much havoc and suffering in the Philippines these recent years. In the distance, and the years I have lived in Canada, every face in each calamity transports me back home with the same intensity as if I were there and the same emotions and fears rise again as implied in these two haiku.

 

April 14, 2015 Posted by | haiku | , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

meanings on walls (for One Shoot Sunday)

graffiti in the Lansing area, Michigan, photo by Chris Galford

1. squiggles

your words mere
squiggles on walls
if but smiles
on dry leaves–
when clouds take over the sun
the butterfly dies

2. waves

on the wall
waves splatter a froth
the sky sheds–
is it rain?
our hand carvings on sea air
but the mindless moon

3. sky

we sip dreams
no one knows of what–
were it earth
it would roll
drums beating down on our sky
to give up the stars

4. ripple

heat seeps off
tips of lanceolate
promises
disguised flames–
in the waters a ripple
once a breath twice life

5. blue fish

ocean lure–
we dig for stone fists
to ripple
the silence
a blue fish whispers to me
a broken flower

Copyright © by Alegria Imperial 2011

Five ‘haiku-induced’ shadorma, a Spanish sestet or 6-line poetic form in 3/5/3/3/7/5 syllables per line–my first attempt at it–in response to the Picture Photo Prompt Sunday (One Shoot Sunday) from photos of Chris Galford of graffit’d walls around the Lansing area in Michigan and posted at One Stop Poetry, the inimitable gathering place for poets and artists. Check us out!

June 19, 2011 Posted by | haiku, poetry, shadorma | , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 10 Comments

I was once her (for one Shot Wednesday)

who sits on the couch in the music room
lost in autumn hair, violins on a CD player
wafting smiles not hers, smiles of a piquant woman
her lover lost on the river walk that evening
briar roses crumbled on their steps shredded
foliage cushioned.

She sits on vacant clouds, eyes
hinting wakefulness on pools
the sun once mirrored
then drowned. The geese left no sign
that evening of the walk not even a note
to hold up to a sun sinking on the barge:
logs swayed on the water, old men rasped
scraping brawns the tide whittled,

bumping to the rhythm. She hears
her lover hum the tune,
a river whistling in the runes, flowing
infinitely like words in
a vow: in this and that state
no breath in between
but death. Not geese but iron flies
buzzing into her heart shattered

the pool that afternoon, shards of water
blinding her her lover saying good-bye, to fly
on blades that whirl not wings that beat
on air, to return an angel, breast beribboned
to preen to count those fallen
from his fingers.
She peers through her cloud this afternoon:
a river ebbing at her feet, touching

her wiggling toes, she giggles over
silly notes as violins rise, twirling
allegro on the river bank where she once sat
mourning over geese that afternoon
her lover returned a name
in a note unsigned, the lover

who once was mine.

Posted for One Shot Wednesday at One Stop Poetry, the gathering place of poets and artists yet unmatched in calibre and talent. I’m a follower here. Do check us out!

June 15, 2011 Posted by | free verse, poetry | , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 6 Comments

enraged (for One Shoot Sunday)

Darth Vader by Jack AZ

we go on, wagging
forefingers at skies,
resenting seasons
that fall on us in clumps
of such rhythmic
regularity we just can’t
play our black violins
raging against or else

against the grind
we feel a heartless hand
its fingers like iron
claws so tight in grip we find
our waggling a senseless
attempt at being freed—if
but one beat one note

one breath that does not
fall in rhythmic rhyme
skids from fingers that slide
from point to point to
point, interminable
points, infinitesimal bits,
that had so imprisoned us
raging—

one breath that stops and
we can’t, we won’t find out
we haven’t moved away
from seasons we resented,
music we played, beats
we raged against

Posted for One Shoot Sunday at One Stop Poetry from a photo prompt titled, “Darth Vader” by Jack AZ. Join us, a community of poets and artists who share the art they so love and nurture reach other.

February 20, 2011 Posted by | free verse, poetry | , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 16 Comments

Abrazos (for One Shot Wednesday)

If your lips open
as if in awe, and purse
for a light trill, if a tiny whisper
escapes through your smile, a
soft hiss as you breathe
you have said,
Abrazos.

Say it again
and feel your
breast caving in
as your arms curve
like an open arc, an arc
the size of your aching.

Then when your palms
clasp, feel how your heart
gasps, as it curls
in hers.

first published in http://www.poeticdiversity.org, April 2008

Posted for One Shot Wednesday at One Stop Poetry, a community of poets and artists community whose love for what they do sustains their being together.

February 2, 2011 Posted by | free verse, lyric poetry, poetry | , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 14 Comments

Be Sharp Or Else (for One Shoot Sunday)

litter on the beach—
fleeting clicks of feet,
timed echoes of Coney Island
soughing songs, root-less
throbs and beats
that pump the river flow within or
flints your thoughts
turn into, darting from

the breeze cavorting
on your tulle train
and into litter bins—
snag, entangle, entrap.
Be sharp watching:
your thoughts ginger-dancing
behind your parasol
must free your mind of weight

or else crushing any or all
essences that inflame your thoughts
turn into spits and sparks
you want extracted but
cannot so they rend your being
even if within you geysers
rush and pool in balance—the circus
has not started on the beach

they wait like you do–
the waiting could split you into
yawning jagged edges
for nothing. Be sharp: or else
litter turned sour heads wheeze from
and into spots you believe hidden, pushed
into crevices unknown to you, even
you, these cankered

wounds smoothed
over, but bleeding still
under skin could swell deluding you into
desires no calming breath
could stay these red bogs
within you heaving in wait for just
a drop, a sip,
a taste of pleasure.

Be sharp watching.
Or else, absent head-turns
throbbing temples blind you
to points in the fair—pennants flying:
when does the Ferris wheel stop
spinning? The roller coaster
wheezes by, the hotdogs
at Nathan’s grilling.

Be sharp
or else unseeing, you
slip into some thought
some litter you had tossed
that is you.

Posted for One Shoot Sunday from a photo of the mermaid parade in Coney Island by Danielle Kelly. Join other poets at One Stop Poetry blog who write verses for love, read those of others, leave a word of encouragement and/or insight with the same love and respect. Post your piece on your blog and sign up in the Mr. Linky list.

January 3, 2011 Posted by | free verse, poetry, Uncategorized | , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 6 Comments