jornales

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

Just can’t help it! Haiku can be love poems for me: posts from my wall at the NaHaiWriMo fb site, yes, it’s still on

#2.28b dawn
frosted dawn-
words hang
on his last kiss

(her in the original)

#3.5 partings
between her
and his goodbye—
sudden hail

#3.7 water, etc.
after his goodbye—
tossing tear-soaked tissues
in* street waste bins

*I later fussed over this preposition, citing my ESL brain taking over–in both dialects I spoke, Iluko, the one I was born with and spoke as a child (but with which I’m now writing poetry), and Pilipino, our national language I speak with as an adult and never did write with both–prepositions are not definite. So I think ‘in’ as I wrote it is wrong and added a rewrite of the last line as follows: ‘into street waste bins’. Alan took note, saying’ the rewrite made it prosaic’ and told me ‘to follow your instincts’ because the first one works better.

Just can’t help it! Haiku can be love poems for me. These were posted in the continuing NaHaiWriMo fb site, prompts by Alan Summers.

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March 8, 2011 Posted by | haiku, poetry | , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

between her/and his goodbye…(posted on the continuing NaHaiWriMO fb site #prompt-partings)

between her
and his goodbye–
sudden hail

#5 for March
prompt–meetings and partings from ASummers

March 5, 2011 Posted by | haiku, poetry | , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

haiku truths/crocus and frogs after rain/…secrets…non-stop/oh, poet for you, no rest (where did it come from? or how a NaHaiWriMo idea became this tanka)

haiku truths–
crocus and frogs after rain
ketrels and hyacinths
telling you secrets non-stop
oh, poet for you, no rest

Where did that come from?

If you read the comments between Wrick Daddario (19 Planets Art blog) and me on my #24 & #25 NaHaiWriMo post here, you would have read that tanka. He started with what he liked about the haiku and as always when the interaction takes over, he wrote his own haiku on the comment thread. He later mentioned that perhaps he did write enough to pass off as a-haiku-a-day for the month, adding he didn’t want to make a commit ment but did fulfill it anyway. That’s when this thought that has overtaken me was unleashed…and I wrote on:

Commitment? That’s always a big scare, isn’t it? It is, in matters of personal and true-to-life matters, especially, but even more so in ART. Because it asks or demands of one’s whole being, the thrill with which we throw ourselves into it soon falters and we slouch off along the way. But something else could also happen like what’s happening to me. (These last two sentences added just now.)

I have had brief bouts of it–this ‘being on a roll’, but not like now that I feel totally consumed by it–though still unaware of commitment to giving in or have given in to–the POWER OF HAIKU and TANKA. I feel I’m changing especially with my personality; I think I’m turning into a monk who prowls the city looking hollow or with burning eyes on details that turn into or churn haiku in my mind.

I used to be mindful of my interactions; I used to be prompt with my replies to ideas–I used to be present in most if not all meetings about social issues and plain social events and stay and follow-up on ideas I throw in. But now? Haiku/tanka flowing into my other poetic forms have gripped me like a vise and all else float or flit about like wings of nymphs. (I’ve added the last phrase just now, again.)

I seem to carry a head that’s brewing a stew of images restlessly swirling as words non-stop! Never mind if none or all that comes out of it is bad or good haiku or poetic lines–the ‘power’ wields its whip anyway and I must let it ride, put down on the screen what I’m not even aware whether or not it’s my composition or simply of this power most of the time.

If this hasn’t happened to you yet, totally, I’m sure you’ve felt it some time–beware! Commitment (to haiku)? I don’t know if you can choose to thwart it or shoo it away!”

And the tanka flowed in.

February 28, 2011 Posted by | haiku, poetry, reflection, tanka | , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

squabbling crows/sunny day at Zoo/the drum beat of rain NaHaiWriMo prompts turned tanka!

1. Prompt #24 flower
squabbling crows
scream into my thoughts–
at dawn how you left
hollow imprints of sleep
scented dreams of jasmine blooms

2. prompt #25–zoo
sunny day at Zoo
lioness searches for my eyes
behind my black shades–
the way we hold our hearts
as we speak of fears and wants

3. prompt #26–drum
the drum beat of rain
on window pane imprints tears
a flood breaking hearts
in loneliness gray rain sneaks
into wells to fill the dryness

Tanka drafts I should call these because I’m certain that when I read them tomorrow, they will sound bad. These came as spontaneously as the haiku I’ve been posting on the NaHaiWriMo wall. There’s an energy that takes over at the site like a hand that holds my wrist as I pause or pose to let the first word dance on the screen. It’s the presence of so many other haiku writers– whose names I recognize from the Shiki kukai and haiku journals even some haijin–that I think itself serves as the prompt and the word, a prop. The experience, though I hopped in only on Day 19, has been exhilarating.

February 26, 2011 Posted by | haiku, poetry, tanka | , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

in the mist/frosted dawn (#24b & #25 for NaHaiWriMo with brief self-critique)

#24b for NaHaiWriMo (#24 posted at facebook site)
in the mist
waiting to meet you–
budding crocus

A double kigo for spring. I don’t know if it works. But I also see in it two meanings: ‘mist’ for uncertainty, ‘budding crocus’ for hope, reassurance.

#25
frosted dawn–
his words hang
over coffee

I’m not sure about the juxtapostion of image, kigo and meaning here. But I like it.

February 25, 2011 Posted by | critique/self-critique, haiku, poetry | , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 4 Comments

left out in the rain #22b NaHaiWriMo (haibun?)

left out in the rain
her old haiku
on cherry blossoms

I know the emotion of this haiku is sad but honestly, the transition days from winter to spring bring this on in me. Days rise white as freshly ironed sheets, the smell of dawn, with tiny marble-tweets from spring birds invisible in the conifer hedges. And then, as if a green-eyed nymph has waved her wand, clouds would shroud the sun and only the snowdrops tell it’s still day. I walk on Osler St. trodding on damp fragile weeds, barely breathing it seems toward spring, unmindful of the crisp stubble around roots of gnarled oaks. Overhead, twigs of nude cherry trees retain a pose too painful to glance at. Once, it seems so long ago, these caricatured branches had burst into layers of textured pink, inscribing ‘glory in the moment’, that I have written as haiku, which haunt me like old spirits now. And the soft rain, as if taking on my thoughts, turns into an outpouring of tears.

late winter walk–
soft rain on bare cherry trees
harder on my thoughts

Oooops, edit from an hour ago, should be–My haiku #22a is posted in the NaHaiWriMo facebook site. Check it out and join in!

February 22, 2011 Posted by | haibun, haiku, poetry, reflection | , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

secrets #2 for day 21 of NaHaiWriMo

secrets—
burrowing in sand dunes
a pale sunlight

My haiku for days 19,20 and #1 for 21 are posted in the NaHaiWriMo facebook site.

February 21, 2011 Posted by | haiku, poetry | , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

mirror/tangled vines/dawn (16th,17th,18th NaHaiWriMo)

16.
mirror-
she sees her flaws
in his eyes

17.
tangled vines in the snow–
our thoughts sometimes

18.
dawn
ripples on the water
as we speak

February 18, 2011 Posted by | haiku, poetry | , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

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