jornales

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

figuring out

One more for NaHaiWriMo on Stella Pierides’ weather prompt. Autumn, one of my favorite seasons, has figured out in quite a number of my haiku and free verse. The colors fascinate me no end, coming from a country where trees turn brown only if they finally die with no blaze of reds and golds. And when after autumnal winds strip the trees of leaves in a crazed dance, their bareness transform the landscape into pencil drawings where I find myself wandering, looking for the now lost sky. Under oak trees once, this haiku came.

December 10, 2011 Posted by | haiga, poetry | , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

repetitions (haiga2 for 19 Planets Art Blog)

haiga2 using clip art on Microssft Publisher

ehoes
our silent repetitions
repetitions

repetitions
our silent echoes
repetitions

repetitions
of repetitions echo on silence

echoes on silence repetitions of repetitions

Posted for haiga challenge at 19 Planets Art Blog of Rick Daddario. I composed this haiga using clip art on Microsoft Publisher. The art came first and then the haiku. I seem to be good with visual prompts or I work better with them as I used to with the poems I wrote for the now defunct One Stop Poetry’s Sunday Challenge. Am I now creating my own prompts? I had never thought of it but with this second haiga, I’m starting to have fun. I hope it works.

So what’s the thought in the haiga? The cycles in our lives. The repetitions in shapes and sounds. Even invisibles our mind creates bounce back and forth as thoughts and feelings. Patterns and routes unfurl before us without our bidding. Because we need them. Repetitions. Because each day ends to begin again. Reassurances. Because each vow must be renewed. Reverberations. Because we hear better on a beat or rhyme. Repetitions because once never ends for us. Repetitions. We are embedded in them. We embed them in us.

September 8, 2011 Posted by | haiga, haiku, poetry, reflection | , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 10 Comments

stars (in a series of 3 haiku each also posted at the NaHaiWriMo site)

field of galalxies taken by Hubble ultra deep field courtesy of wikicommons

1.
pine strands
holding up the night sky—
how low can stars fall?

2.
moonless night—
my sky more punctured
than the last

3.
morning after
on campfire embers
remnants of stars

4.
sky patterns
on nibbled leaves
the Milky Way

5.
stars
digging into sand dunes—
our secrets

6.
forecast—
in and out of clouds
the constellations

7.
stars
through budding oaks—
he counts his lies

8.
paper moon
adrift among stars—
lost in the past

9.
Venus—
her icy sparkle
night and day

…from a prompt by Cara Hollman at the NaHaiWriMo facebook site. I love stars. As a child it must have been all I did when I got weary-eyed reading under a gas lamp or struggling through arithmetic assignments.

Both houses of my grandmothers I grew up in in northermost region of the Philippine archipelago had balconies with a rocking chair–one was a huge Viennese wicker in what must have been white, the other some kind of hard wood with carved head rest and arms where my mother spent rocking through the night, cradling my sister who wouldn’t sleep otherwise. I used to scan the night sky on the top of the stairs on those balconies but my first shooting star I caught not on any of those nights but once on vacation at Angeles Estates that I had posted here as a haibun.

Here in Vancouver on my evening walks–I love the fading light and the shadows–I hardly look at my steps but instead, follow trails in the sky; if it’s cloudy, I search for breaks or imagine ‘chattering stars and recalcitrant stars’ behind the clouds.

This series does say of my preoccupation with stars I hope. Perhaps, too, one more reason why my deep connection with the stars is this: my other name is Aurora, another name for Venus waning or the Morning Star.

May 12, 2011 Posted by | haiku, poetry, reflection | , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 4 Comments

To write a poem (wordplay on an old typewriter for One Shoot Sunday)

image prompt by Jack AZ part2

is not to catch
the words unlatched:

it is to meet
a current against the sweep

against the words
the patterns on the board

the words imprint
that later fade so like river silt.

To catch a poem
you can’t, unless eyes firm

eyes glued to the vaulted
deep from where had bolted

these words you unleash
on lines that leap

your fingers balancing
thought on words that slink.

To catch the thought
that storms into desert draught

you choose the speed
or letters scrambling in the deep

delude the eyes
escape the mind on ice

old keys do creak when cranked
to catch the lines unlatched.

To catch a storm wreaking
havoc on a heart sinking

in a slew of silted dreams
rusting on dredged streams

where winds howl threats
of maddened sand and dust like breaths

the finger tips must kiss
the letters naming muses hissing.

To catch the muses
soothe their caricatured faces

bare your soul salvaged
from old thoughts once baggage

tear out the paper
spewing lies of hereafter

catch the words that spell
the truth about their names true to their spell

on you to write a poem.

Posted for One Shoot Sunday at One Stop Poetry where a community of poets and artists share their love for their art and continue to sustain each other. Check us out!

February 27, 2011 Posted by | poetry | , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 20 Comments

revenant (three haiku that came back wilted I made to bloom again)

duck pair at lagoon
V-patterns on the water
and on the sky

against the haze
over bramble tips an
arc of budding twigs

and I against the blue
a strand of willow flailing
to touch the sky

First published in Issue 39—The Cortland Review
Copyright 2008

I know, these read like haiku. Yes, they are three haiku that didn’t work–one of the early suites I submitted to Peggy for The Heron’s Nest that came back to me with kind gracious words though very much wilted. I sort of buried them but one day, found them shooting. And so, I watered and let them out in the sun until they burst as blooms one day. I picked and strung them together into this poem that got accepted and published with a podcast, archived in TCR.

February 3, 2011 Posted by | free verse, poetry | , , , , , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

now

I like this poem, its rhythm or just the sound of it when I read or recite it. It’s one of those for which I’d write myself a check of $1,000 for my “jornal”. What do you think?

 

now’s a sound, a

                  hacking

in space a rhythmic

splicing

       a phantom hand

scythe upright

in greed

cutting in swaths

—its mode a sharp embrace:

no sweetness

there

 

now’s a push but no

sudden one, instead a

jabbing

in the skull

a stabbing      not for blood

but eternal

jiggling swaggering

a relentless dribbling

of words and water to whet

though never—

that’s how it feeds

 

a pattern scissoring

now is

a space splitting blankness

into ‘then’

and ‘later ‘    bulking up

with what’s decayed

one row what’s nothing

     the other

only now knows

 

a pulse but not

the kind     on which

life hangs

now’s a beat that

threatens a breath

this fragile silk

now snaps in two

once the known       now

the unknown

 

© Copyright 2007 by Alegria Imperial/Published in poetslane, iluko.com

April 5, 2009 Posted by | poetry | , , , , , | Leave a comment