jornales

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

At DailyHaiku’s Cycle 14 November round, my haiku

        IMG_0120        

November 25, 2012

carapace

the strand of emptiness

i tuck away 

                                                                                              

November 26, 2012

chill

a brick tile

cuts

across clouds  

                                                                                      

November 27, 2012

late night special

the postman rings

                                                                                                    a broken bell 

                                                                                              November 28, 2012

summing up the stars fallen leaves

 

November 29, 2012

cloud shapes

the turns we make

                                                                                                          in secret

November 30, 2012

tideline

the calculated risks

of dreaming

                                                                                                

                                                                                                December 01, 2012

because it’s your turn

autumn rain

                                        

                                                                                               

Please pardon the imperfect layout. It’s actually perfect in the editing page but somehow, when the post comes out, some lines go astray. I’ve been working on it for the last three hours but it just wouldn’t straighten out. Must be a trickster at play…it’s the first time I just can’t figure out what’s wrong. I hope you’ll read the haiku and enjoy them instead,  while glossing over the dancing lines. Thanks again for following jornales!                                                                                             

 (Artwork is mine, created in my iPod with doodoo)                                    

 

December 17, 2012 Posted by | haiku, poetry | , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 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