jornales

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

Here is how I used to post in my blog. The haiku is but part of the text I wrote as a comment at PEN International’s blog. And I was still going by the idea that I would pay myself a ‘jornal’, (daily wage) with each moment of bliss or come to think of it, a haiku moment! Hence, my blog’s name, ‘jornales’. My readers though didn’t pick up on it so I dropped the idea. This would be my 360 something post. If I persevered with my idea of giving myself wages, I’d be a multi-billionaire, by now! Maybe I should start all over again. Because the haiku here is my first and so far, only award-winner, I should double the ‘jornal’ I gave myself then at $2000.

jornales

How can’t I not pay myself a ‘jornal’ of $1000 for the beauty of cherry blossoms? I’m sure you agree.

I used to live half of the year in Baltimore. A trip to Washington, yes, at the Jefferson Memorial and the Mall was like a ritual for me and the friend I stayed with. 

But the very first cherry blossoms I’ve seen and I thought it a miracle was at Washington Square by New York University in Manhattan; we then lived a block away on Cooper Square. And later an even more breath-snagging burst of blossoms on a day the sun descended at its tenderest happened at the Brooklyn Botanical Gardens.

Of all the spring blossoms, indeed, that of the cherry tree draws the most awe. How can’t a cloud of pink not make one think of a state or place other than this brown earth. Even just being under the shade…

View original post 108 more words

March 15, 2012 Posted by | comment, haiku, poetry | , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

spark by spark (haiku with image, another tribute to Svetlana’s spirit)


Perennis Amour

autumn sun
dripping on roses
spark by spark

Another tribute to Svetlana Marisova who won first place in the 9th (2011) Shiki Kukai ‘Poets’ Choice’ kigo section. Svetlana passed away at age 21 recently. She’s greatly missed by those who love her haiku. I read them daily at the NaHaiWriMo facebook site where she interacted with most of us who posted along with her.

(The image is a bronze sculpture by Harriet W Frismuth, 1923, given by Mrs. Walter Crawford in 1937 for the Arbor and Trellis of the The Cranford Rose Garden, Brooklyn Botanical Gardens, NY, titled Roses of Yesterday. I’ve taken the caption from a text on the clock face the figure cradles on her left arm.)

October 23, 2011 Posted by | haiku, poetry | , , , , , , , | 5 Comments

it’s the brilliance that awes you (another haibun from a ginko at the Brooklyn Gardens)

wild berry

it’s the brilliance that awes you–the spark in a bed of browning edges, some disheveled weed flowers, the dryness curling back to roots, the seeping cold taking back warm blood, back to its own heart. you have to peer close to know the eye of its brilliance, find a berry you can’t name, a berry you haven’t crushed between your tongue and palate, a berry you haven’t juiced for your hair and skin more than your heart. yet, wordless in wonder, you can’t but see your iris in it, looking in a mirror…

small
how i am seen
from Andromeda

October 21, 2011 Posted by | haibun, poetry, reflection | , , , , | Leave a comment

robins at Brooklyn Botanical Gardens (a haibun writes itself)

Roses losing petals, lotuses dying on their shadow, a poisonous sumac inflamed, the promised turtle missing, but the persimmon tree pregnant, the spider lily swinging; I pick anise seeds and drink on the scent, pinch tips of dew studded mint, and then stumble on frog stones their absent eyes on summer flies–the water striders have long leaped to infinity–it’s autumn at Brooklyn Botanical Gardens, and after tracing the veins of a horse I figure a ficus has turned into from a knight on a horse by a fairy enchanted by his beauty, E and I skip the desert garden breathing heat off a muggy afternoon.

We pass by the Cranford Rose Garden again where I had posed beside a bronze sculpture titled Roses of Yesterday–this wisp of a woman ripened by love and longing sluiced by it in fluid lines. On her left arm, she cradles a clock’s face Time arrested engraved in words Perennis Amour (Love Eternal); on her right as if bidden, she caresses a bunch of roses that drip as if tears from her deep sad eyes. I had posed unabashed beside her, tainting the poetic moment, which I should have sipped in secret.

No perfume quaffs through the air even as we linger to hold on to each bloom thrusting petals on us for a touch. The gray sky stands by unconcerned as we lean toward a curved path to the main gate. Silence and distant chatter drop on my steps and a stirring in the yew branch. A robin has flit from it. The meadow ends and I shake off a leaf from my shoulders to find another leaf that has hitched a ride in a fold of my hood as we boarded the No. 1 train. It must have been the closed-in faces, the inward smiles, the inner rhymes I imagined beat in time with steel grating on steel and soon the scream of brakes that bid us to pour out of the steel doors even as we tighten our grip on moments we can’t soon recall that this haiku wrote itself–not about the roses or the absent turtle but a fleeting glimpse of

robins
skittering on fallen leaves
our grip tightens

October 21, 2011 Posted by | haiku, poetry, reflection | , , , , , , | 4 Comments

cherry blossoms and haiku

How can’t I not pay myself a ‘jornal’ of $1000 for the beauty of cherry blossoms? I’m sure you agree.

I used to live half of the year in Baltimore. A trip to Washington, yes, at the Jefferson Memorial and the Mall was like a ritual for me and the friend I stayed with. 

But the very first cherry blossoms I’ve seen and I thought it a miracle was at Washington Square by New York University in Manhattan; we then lived a block away on Cooper Square. And later an even more breath-snagging burst of blossoms on a day the sun descended at its tenderest happened at the Brooklyn Botanical Gardens.

Of all the spring blossoms, indeed, that of the cherry tree draws the most awe. How can’t a cloud of pink not make one think of a state or place other than this brown earth. Even just being under the shade transforms us a bit like we seem to grow haloes.

My memories of walking under canopies of cherry blossoms in Washington and Baltimore on Riverside had endured and even inspired me to write haiku–as well around the blossoms hundreds of haiku have been written.

Now that I live in Vancouver, another cherry blossom city, my awe may never cease. I would like to share this haiku I wrote after a walk on Riverside in Baltimore.

 

cherry tree
shedding off petals at dusk—
moths in flight

Copyright © 2007 by Alegria Imperial
Honorable Mention, 2007 Vancouver Cherry Blossom Festival Haiku Invitational

 

posted as comment at PEN Blogs

April 22, 2009 Posted by | poetry | , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 1 Comment