jornales

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

My haiku in Sketchbook 7 “pond life” kukai thread March/April 2012


1.
breathless
between us in the pond bed
a gold carp

2.
still pond
a mirror the span
of our wings

3.
tadpoles
we slink around sun spears
in dappled lagoons

4.
virgin’s halo
in the punctured pond
a rock shard sinks

5.
skinny dipping
with our burdens
pond turtle

6.
plop
the sound of bubble
from a carp

7.
stretching its neck
as if to measure our sky
turtle

Editor’s choice with commentary:
Bernard Geitske the temptation to philosophize or explore one’s being is very strong

8.
dry sedge
i wonder if dragonflies
remember

9.
the miles
a water stryder covers
my mirrored sky

Editor’s choice
John Daleiden for “a potpourri of nature”
Bernard Gietske for “beautiful pictures, still and action shots one might find”

10.
mayflies in the pond
the persistence of clouds
to stay

June 6, 2012 Posted by | haiku, poetry | , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 4 Comments

After Melissa (Red Dragonfly)

After Melissa’s latest post: explaining why a haiku is written or what’s the story behind your haiku?

This haiku came out of the fragments of some days. Like coming in and out of the courtyard from the back door for me to go up the third floor to our condo apartment, I hardly ever miss to glance at the garden. Frostbitten now, ruined by the rains and so far, one snowfall, the day lilies have liquified into mush like some neglected salad greens in the fridge; the roses but a memory of silk petals, now all cracked petrified limbs. The bald red maple strung with rainbow bulbs hardly hints at the red dragonflies–its pod sacks–swinging on its twigs. Muddied mounds by a corner used to be azaleas burning in fuschia. The rest have shed their names with their flowers except for the hydrangeas as if preserved in stained sepia though utterly disheveled. Alana from penthouse #7, in whose hands these bloomed, passes by the garden unstopping unlike me. But I imagine her indifference as merely a masquerade for a broken heart. I imagined in a gesture of finality for her heart to let heal and begin again…

she uproots
her disheveled hydrangeas–
first day of the year

January 4, 2011 Posted by | haiku, poetry | , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment