jornales

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

my ‘yikes!’ haiku (from a suite of the first-ever haiku I submitted to THN)

1.
moon rise
on church window,
mom and I holding hands

2.
magnolia petals
in the wind—
the rush at my wedding

3.
shredded blooms
on my hair—
writing on my journal

4.
spring rain—
the taste of salt spray
the first time

5.
first spring walk—
a clump of drooping snowdrops
black patch smaller

6.
against the haze
a hedge of briar roses—
my unfinished poem

These and the rest in the suite of ten haiku, of course, came back declined. You might want to let me know why, first, and then, I’ll write a self-critique.

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March 26, 2011 Posted by | haiku, poetry, Uncategorized | , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 6 Comments

Angelus (for One Shot Wednesday)

How elating—
the walk by the harbor at dusk: the hour
hardly fits the feeling. Yet, day melting on
to ground and water seeps off as mist,
abstracting realities, transforming
states into half-dreams—a moment
that soon passes.

My feet cease
scissoring, a mindless technique
to cut into the half-hour—the
slice of time at which the heart is said
to pump faster, hastening
the river flow the body has entrapped—
and stilled, remember my childhood
but failing to recall

the minute-
prayer angel Gabriel’s hailing
Mary who was to have a child—a fairly
domestic scene that for ages had mystified
this hour. But brake on my steps holds me
not in prayer to dwell on such angelic
moment. I stand smiling, no less
a fool being alone, at this:

on grass patch a duck pair
bedded as a robin circles blinking disbelief ,
head turning in ways, ‘Lost, am I?’
—a look so innocent as much as
beguiling, a circlet that isolates
stark truths, blinds eyes
to mirrors: this moment
a black figure heaving on the crosswalk
hooded for heat—in the harbor
he makes like home, chills make
for walls—the freeze hangs on his
wiry moustache, a Cheshire grin to passersby
‘God bless!’ So like Gabriel
I imagine in tone yet so unlike

the angel in that his chant and greeting
fall insipid on indifference littering
the walk–I pass him by
resume my steps tight clipped
his eyes trail the dull beat my Reeboks
drum on the bridge. My heart contracts—
startled at the suddenness, the broken
rhythm signals a must

some help: the robin whisks its wings
to my eye path—in the
half-light its wing-spread so like
a minute Gabriel. Unthinking, I stop
to honor a childhood hour, and peering back
at the dark figure the seeping
night has walled in, I sigh
a prayer.

…one of my early poems written in 2008 in a series of what I called ‘journal poetry’ or journals I wrote in verse from memories of my walks at the Inner Harbor in Baltimore right across where I lived half of the year on Federal Hill. Posted here for One Shot Wednesday at One Stop Poetry to share it with you but expecially to a community of artists and poets in this inimitable space whose love for their art ‘spangle’ (my favorite word) the skies (my favorite phrase). Come on in, check us out or better yet, join us.

March 2, 2011 Posted by | free verse, poetry | , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 10 Comments

2010 in review–Huge thanks!

I posted this “Hello World!” on 02/02/2009 to introduce what I thought this blog would be:

Jornales. Daily Wages. Why have I chosen jornales as the name of this blog? I’m neither Spanish nor English but I was brought up on both languages and on both cultures. I speak and read only smatterings of the first, fluent in the second but I am much more. I live and exist on many spheres of thought that come out as poetry, stories, essays, feature stories, news stories, scripts if need be and whatever shape or form words that seem to write themselves when I compose take on. I work hard to keep alive where I exist. And where does my jornal my daily wage come from? What is my jornal, my daily wage? Ahhh, that’s the mystery you and I will unravel in these pages. Welcome!”

Apparently, on the same day, I wrote my longish rumination on what jornales, daily wages is for me in About. And my search for “wages” other than what is measured or weighed have since taken me into a journey I hardly mapped out. My wages have not been what I had signed for, even hoped for; my reach closer to the stars but beyond the span of my arm. This review from wordpress says, “Wow!” not for the numbers, I believe, but for how this blog had turned out. It’s not all mine–whatever the merits–but yours, too, dear friends.

Thank you all! Thank you hugely!

I quote from my reply to Margaret: “Because poetry is of the heart and the soul, how can’t (I not belong to you)? You ( and all readers who strayed into here leaving but a stat) have made the year just folded over a deeply meaningful one for me–I feel like a cloud instantly transforming with a breeze taking on shapes and forms only the heart can recognize.”

May the New Year with our hearts in place, uplift us closer to where we hope to be, dream to go.

The stats helper monkeys at WordPress.com mulled over how this blog did in 2010, and here’s a high level summary of its overall blog health:

Healthy blog!

The Blog-Health-o-Meter™ reads Wow.

Crunchy numbers

Featured image

A Boeing 747-400 passenger jet can hold 416 passengers. This blog was viewed about 1,600 times in 2010. That’s about 4 full 747s.

In 2010, there were 101 new posts, growing the total archive of this blog to 133 posts. There were 17 pictures uploaded, taking up a total of 8mb. That’s about a picture per month.

The busiest day of the year was December 19th with 57 views. The most popular post that day was Escape (for one shoot Sunday).

Where did they come from?

The top referring sites in 2010 were oneshotpoetry.blogspot.com, Google Reader, alphainventions.com, haikuproject.wordpress.com, and thehaikufoundation.org.

Some visitors came searching, mostly for jornales, alegria imperial, jornales2010.blogspot.com, the “cantaloupe moon”, and lyrical prose.

Attractions in 2010

These are the posts and pages that got the most views in 2010.

1

Escape (for one shoot Sunday) December 2010
23 comments

2

the cantaloupe moon October 2010
2 comments

3

About February 2009
4 comments

4

white moonlight (edited) October 2010
4 comments and 1 Like on WordPress.com,

5

Count 1234 (One Shoot Sunday) November 2010
22 comments

January 3, 2011 Posted by | culturati news/views | , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

haibun: my first shooting star (para mi hermana, Margaret)

A haibun attempt as promised for Margaret, mi hermana de mi alma, in a comment on Stargazing at haikudoodle

I wrote this as a journal some ten years ago when I stayed at Angeles Estates in Munoz, Nueva Ecija, the Philippines’ central plains. Nothing but acres of rice fields, edged by the Sierra Madres the sky most evenings did tantalize. One evening I finally caught a shooting star…

It flared in the shape of wings, and was gone in a blink – my first shooting star.

Before then, a moon was sailing past its fullness, but brimming in the edges. It was cruising toward a thin veil of clouds, sailing through an iridescent sky. Its ride must have been bumpy on the grainy surface, but dreamy from a tender blue light beaming underneath that sieve.

In the glow, the lawn turned murky beige, the leaves of the escarlatina (frangipani), dark and glinting; and the gumamela blooms, pallid and droopy.

My eyes were trailing a white dog, yellowed under a weak moon, when the star must have started to skid. When I turned to break a branch to whip the ground and drive the dog away—that was when I glimpsed the flare.

It had vanished before I could breathe. I laughed; my laughter had bubbled off my heart without my coaxing. When I turned for someone whom I can tell of my star, the night had turned: the moon had burst out of the clouds, the blooms began to glisten; and the dog was gone.

shooting star—
a flap of wings
the same sky?

AE gardens during the day

Escarlatina in the sun

Also posted in http://www.iluko.com with a few paragraphs which I attempted to translate in Iluko. More pictures and information on the estate at http://www.angelesestates.com

December 17, 2010 Posted by | haibun, lyrical prose, poetry | , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 8 Comments

swarm of tiny wings

swarm of tiny wings

fades out  in the autumn sky–

unfinished journal

October 2, 2010 Posted by | haiku, poetry | , , | 2 Comments

Spring snow

To wake up to snow-clad trees

but knobbed not bare-skinned

a streaming not of rain

on frosted glass but of

quiet snow frantic

in dance, winter as yet

reluctant to let

robins be as sparrows

sprint as if free.

 

To wake up not to

spring but snow-

bearded day delayed

in clockwork, stumbling

onto the breakfast

ledge spooning spring

against winter, buds

retracting in the snow

birds muted, quivering,

hearts like mine

suddenly uncertain.

 

I give myself $500 as ‘jornal’ for this thought that came as a poem and not as the essay I intended. Do you think my valuing is right?

March 11, 2009 Posted by | poetry, reflection | , , , , | Leave a comment

Sunflowers

She folds her arms on the table and turns a limp head to the window; the gray sky meets her sad eyes. She crumples on her slack arms and sighs, what lonely weather.

I watch her head drop on sunflowers blooming on the vinyl kitchen cloth where she works all day. The blossoms blaze around her. When she looks back at the sky, her eyes glisten with tears now pooling.

I snap out of my stare and tell her, it’s only the rain. But in my mind, I wail at the weeping sky, who is it that came snuffing out the sun?

Then I begin telling this woman, it’s only rain, and it’s fine too, like a baby’s hair. How could it hurt you? Look how it falls — like a touch. And watch how it splatters on that window — like sweet crystals that wash the grime and the sadness off the air. See how the sky would tauten soon — like the skin of a man’s arm.

And the woman laughs at the thought of a man’s arm crooked around her, scented sweet and strong by the rain. She laughs splaying her own arms over the sunflowers she couldn’t seem to see.

Copyright © 2001 by Alegria Imperial/Posted in iluko.com and myjournal

For reading this piece again, and remembering the moment I wrote it, I give myself $300 as my ‘jornal’.

What’s yours?

February 6, 2009 Posted by | poetry | , , | Leave a comment