jornales

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

here there where (at qarrtsiluni’s ‘fragments’ issue)

day in the park

a cat eats weed flowers. my dog sits on the bird bath. a mom spreads a picnic blanket for baby’s feeding bottles. three crows swoop in on my bag of popcorn. a weed flower sticks to my dress.

the baby drools. on her blue bib. the sky turns golden.

i gather my crumbs under the blooming junipers. i pull up a heather. a squirrel flies over my head on a twig.
chippers chatter.

my heather turns blue. the baby picks a dandelion. the sun slides down. over skies a swarm of snowbirds fly home. i have no wings.

silence

silence is not the absence of sound. a sheer wall in the mind perhaps. a blockade for the heart. one cannot hear a heartbeat. the whooshing of blood in and out of ventricles. blubbering air in the lungs. a grumbling emptiness in guts. random complaints from muscles trapped in passions.

silence as gaping space traps what fills air waves. winds that fissures slurp. secrets blossoms share. coughing of uncouth machines. grating wheels those dumpsters edging out magpies. the cawing of crows to be understood. marble chirps colliding with fresh acorns among the pines. sonatas on toes around the rim of dreams.

births are seeded in silence. in secret. the first cry is a child of silence. wakefulness its gender.

new calendar

first day of the year. just another grey day. a pall on the new calendar. as if what makes a difference really doesn’t.

the ticking clock. a distant squawking of a crow or better yet, complaint. deep sigh of engines passing by. the trudge goes on.
i look on the cypress with a creeping sense of sorrow. the deep cold dark in its twigs. holiday gifts piled beside it now debris.
a black garbage bag rests folded in the bin.

i gather the cards. wishes slide off my fingers. a bag of pebbles waits to be planted in the vase. like wishes that might take root, i would have to water them each day.

blue notes waver in the light. as if there’s something i should know.

death still

death still on the shore. no breath lapping sand. the bay water clear as eyes. a selvage edge of secrets. a quiet suspiration under a translucent film of air. a shimmer that wavers underneath over shell shards.

emptied mollusks. spawning stones. furry algae. fibrous weeds.

dead still but not sealed. only walled in. like your eyes, when you stare within. an absent look. a vacant thought. like i’m not there.

http://qarrtsiluni.com/2012/08/21/here-there-where/

A special piece for me. All four reveal how I really write. Most of it have somehow strayed to a few of my haiku or tanka or even haibun. But this is me. I thank qarrtsiluni for this 2nd acceptance and publication.

I’m sorry for the vacant days. I’ve just been so busy with projects and the writing of a Sunday column for a broadsheet, Business Mirror Philippines. I’ll strive to catch up soon. Thanks for your continued support!

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August 22, 2012 Posted by | fragments, poetry | , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 3 Comments

night hatching dawn (Merry Christmas)

sitting it out

with night hatching dawn

Merry Christmas

***

of the hundreds

in the forest, crow trims

a pine tip

***

twelfth day

my true love bakes for Christmas

a partridge in pear

Love, joy and peace to all of you dear jornales and wordpress friends.  We’re on to almost a whole year of sharing such message of the season with poetry. Blessed is how I consider myself having touched you all. This season as I’ve repeatedly said so, I’d like to thank you again. May the New Year find us even more deeply engaged in poetry, hence, in love, joy, and peace.

(Haiku are also posted at NaHaiWriMo  under the prompt ‘Christmas’. Image from my camera, one of my many shots–in the dark, literally–of the million lights spangled at Van Dusen Gardens in Vancouver every Christmas.)


December 24, 2011 Posted by | haiku, poetry | , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

driftwood

drift wood
crow’s dominion
who’s to question?

alegria imperial
eleanor angeles

December 2, 2011 Posted by | haiku, poetry, reflection | , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

melancholia (sequence) begins with my first ever haiku

in the haze,
crow circling bare trees
finally alights

while sun
tints bay, i dive skimming
crimson-bottomed boats

duck pairs braid
shadows on my back—
i slurp refuse

gulls overhead fight
over what’s left,
screaming mute—

the same scraps
i tossed in my daze
a moment earlier

before i plunged–
melancholia

First published in LYNX XXIII:3 October 2008

in the haze, I found among my notes is the first ever haiku I wrote. The ‘haiku moment’? A drive to Aberdeen from the Federal Hill in Baltimore. Autumn had greyed on desolate trees. Crows in such skies even then had seemed to me both sinister and comforting–the first because of their eyes, the second, their astuteness.

Soon after more of my haiku ‘doodling’ (to borrow mi hermana’s blog title), I strung them into this sequence with ‘haze and the crow’ as the theme and sent it to Werner Reichold. The day LYNX came out with it and two more sequences, three tanka and a haibun, I found a biographical sketch on Hart Crane’s death; it was as if I knew it when I put together this sequence.

February 19, 2011 Posted by | haiku, poetry, reflection, sequence | , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Nine for NaHaiWriMo (copying, rewriting some old haiku of mine)

National Haiku Writing Month (NaHaiWriMo)–that’s what’s going on. I don’t know if we have to sign up and join a ‘marathon’ but I’ve taken it up anyway. What I have here for the past nine days though isn’t honest, I mean, not fresh–freshened up is more like it. I scrounged around for them from rejects of submissions and buffed them up. And so, the kigo is mixed–there’s autumn, winter, spring and summer here. Still, I know some of them or most of them aren’t ‘good haiku’ but like most of what I write, they transform into something else after a while. I don’t really write a haiku a day; when I do, it’s often up to ten or more. So, here are my take for NaHaiWriMO counted from day one. I hope to make the kigo right for the month of February in the next two weeks.

1.
empty nest
scrapes an ivy wall–
broken silence

2.
crow cawing
over shuttered houses
pierces my thoughts

3.
delayed arrival—
a hat bobs over the hedge
the wrong way

4.
lit up skies–
so many darkened doors
shushed walls

5.
twilight–
she kneels
to smell a rose

6.
winter thought–
on a window
a trickle

7.
stalactites–
her stubborn reply
scribbled

8.
raindrops
on an evening window–
what’s unsaid

9.
crescent moon–
his silence
his droopy eyes

February 10, 2011 Posted by | haiku, poetry | , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 7 Comments

the crow

the crow
this winter morning caws
a rhythmic trill

January 15, 2011 Posted by | haiku, poetry | , , , , , , , , , | 4 Comments

Christmas tree

Christmas tree…
on its tip
a crow

December 16, 2010 Posted by | haiku, poetry | , , , , , | 4 Comments

crow and I (edited)

crow and I

scanning yards for signs of life

eye at each other

oops! I missed a verb in my rush to post this yesterday.

October 7, 2010 Posted by | haiku, poetry | , | Leave a comment

left turn

left turn–

crow struts ahead of me

the wrong way

September 20, 2010 Posted by | haiku, poetry | , , | 2 Comments

midday calm

midday calm

but not for crow cawing

at his shadow

June 29, 2010 Posted by | haiku, poetry | , , | 2 Comments