jornales

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

zenith at noon (for One Shoot Sunday)

Photo prompt by Fee Easton

rain combs the strands
of our adagios:

expanse of thoughts
farther than the ends of flights
wings aching for home
a sight among stars

we tread the waves
sink in whirlpools deeper
than the heart of the flower
a hummingbird chooses

lighter
than marrow-less limbs
skimming skies
bending the spheres

constellations pirouette
on mid-strains cresting to slope
to skid onto silken lilies
our bed of seasons

in our clasped hands
the sea regurgitates the sun
froth fizzes a tickle
on our kissing toes

the sea breeze binds horizons
our eyes delude a sunset
our dawns begin
the night

the zenith at noon
the depth of our dreaming

Copyright (c) by Alegria Imperial 2011

From a photo prompt by Fee Easton this poem is posted for One Shoot Sunday yet another challenge at One Stop Poetry, the inimitable gathering place of poets and artists, winner of the 2011 Shorty Awards for the Arts. Come join us. Share your love for your art. Be thrilled over what others say and what you discover of others’ works.

May 15, 2011 Posted by | free verse, lyric poetry, poetry | , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 8 Comments

stars (in a series of 3 haiku each also posted at the NaHaiWriMo site)

field of galalxies taken by Hubble ultra deep field courtesy of wikicommons

1.
pine strands
holding up the night sky—
how low can stars fall?

2.
moonless night—
my sky more punctured
than the last

3.
morning after
on campfire embers
remnants of stars

4.
sky patterns
on nibbled leaves
the Milky Way

5.
stars
digging into sand dunes—
our secrets

6.
forecast—
in and out of clouds
the constellations

7.
stars
through budding oaks—
he counts his lies

8.
paper moon
adrift among stars—
lost in the past

9.
Venus—
her icy sparkle
night and day

…from a prompt by Cara Hollman at the NaHaiWriMo facebook site. I love stars. As a child it must have been all I did when I got weary-eyed reading under a gas lamp or struggling through arithmetic assignments.

Both houses of my grandmothers I grew up in in northermost region of the Philippine archipelago had balconies with a rocking chair–one was a huge Viennese wicker in what must have been white, the other some kind of hard wood with carved head rest and arms where my mother spent rocking through the night, cradling my sister who wouldn’t sleep otherwise. I used to scan the night sky on the top of the stairs on those balconies but my first shooting star I caught not on any of those nights but once on vacation at Angeles Estates that I had posted here as a haibun.

Here in Vancouver on my evening walks–I love the fading light and the shadows–I hardly look at my steps but instead, follow trails in the sky; if it’s cloudy, I search for breaks or imagine ‘chattering stars and recalcitrant stars’ behind the clouds.

This series does say of my preoccupation with stars I hope. Perhaps, too, one more reason why my deep connection with the stars is this: my other name is Aurora, another name for Venus waning or the Morning Star.

May 12, 2011 Posted by | haiku, poetry, reflection | , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 4 Comments

in ecstasy (for One Shoot Sunday)

the constellations cast a spell
on the roiling depths
gurgling in its altered state the sea
bubbles rolling a thousand eyes
as if dying

but in ecstasy enraptured
its frozen depths splintered
as million bits of bliss
an ocean of grief shedding
sheets of unwanted lead

sheen on silver
blinds receding stars those recalcitrant
asteroids mere reflections
on the translucence of illumination
a sea of enlightenment

the body once
a heaving mass of regrets
roaring now soars

Posted for One Shoot Sunday at One Stop Poetry composed on this space from an image by Roger Allen. Come join us in this inimitable space for poets and artists who share their work and their passion for it. Feel how it is to be nurtured like we do.

March 27, 2011 Posted by | free verse, poetry | , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 6 Comments

trimming the tree/winter full moon

1.
trimming the tree–
a cat’s frame
not a star

2.
winter full moon—
the missing napkin ring
beside the Star

–haiku for jornales friends with my wishes for the most of yours during this Christmas season and the new Year!

The lunar eclipse saluted us first, extravagantly, too, and the winter full moon sails on into our wishes among the constellations, sometimes witnessing for us who cannot see stars skidding through Light Years that will never be visible in our time. The secret in our lives is the moment, the moment lived whether fully or not, aware or not.

The moment I just learned on reading an issue of Poetry (December 2006) is thus the essence of all art. Art must not only capture it but live it for us the way we actually do but can’t fathom–in the hugeness of the universe and Time–until an artist does it for us.

You and I, newbie or master, implanted with the seed to let art blossom must take command–do we have a choice? You and I know we don’t have as it has taken over our souls, the deepset recesses of our being even, as I know from lines you generously leave here. Thank you–if I could but reinvent the word!

last winter in fornt of a dressed-up Vancouver Art Gallery when snow defaulted on Vancouver during the 2010 Winter Olympics

December 23, 2010 Posted by | haiku, poetry | , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment