jornales

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

haiku on the beach, tides, the sea (at NaHaiWriMo)

the sea in Ilocos Norte, the northermost province of the 7,100 islands of the Philippine archipelago, a scene I so miss. Photo by Raymond Ramos, a cousin in the 3rd degree,

a.
when shifting tides
shift the codes–
sunset

b.
secrets
digging into sand dunes–
a pale sunlight

c.
squalling seagulls–
scanning empty shorelines
for chances we’ve lost

d.
Cape Bojeador*–
we measure heights of billows
against our skies

*built by the Spaniards a lighthouse in Cape Bojeador in the northernmost tip of the Philippine archipelago juts out with a promontory as if into the sea where one may view giant waves crashing against each other and not only on high cliffs but mid-sea. On closer look at the waters, you may see a difference of hue—this is the point where the Pacific Ocean meets the China Sea, a truly stunning sight.

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June 21, 2011 Posted by | haiku, poetry | , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 4 Comments

the bride (for One Shoot Sunday)

dawn
settles on her barefeet
a starling craving to
flex wings

the ground quivers
from her tender steps unease
spreads
among wet stones

she wiggles
off her restless sighs
to undo her veil of wind
her hair loosens

strands of singing
rise over the heartbeat
of sparrows
she becomes a pair of wings

shirred skirt
the feathers she preens
to a sheen that stuns
a hesitant sun

the day flexes
on her limbs a thrumming
wakens the tender
lilies she stalked in her dreams

she steps into
her gaping red shoes
the brooding crows
scatter

a ruckus spreads
among the dandelions
the seagulls catch in fevered
pitch

she walks
parting the congregation
in blindness deaf
to the grumbling

over the rise
among the pines she raises
her arms an arc
to the sky

a swallow
skimming the meadow
where heads limp in the breeze
but balloons from her wedding

the gulls shriek
it pierces her flight
she careens
down the hill snags

a thread of her dream
first a thump
of the wearied balloon
that pumped her wings

next her toes
like a bird poised to fly
in a fall

(c) by Alegria Imperial 2011

Photo prompt by Lauren Randolph

For One Shoot Sunday at One Shot Poetry, winner of the 2011 Shorty Award for the Arts. Come check us out and share your art and poetry–it’s what we do her, share and nurture each other.

April 10, 2011 Posted by | free verse, poetry, Uncategorized | , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 14 Comments

Need to know why editor passed on these haiku

These haiku belong to a batch of 20 I recently submitted with temerity to what I call a ‘cutting-edge’ haiku journal. None was accepted, of course, although two interested the editor. Why? I can’t figure out on my own. Could you help me think this through? I reworked on three of them (1, 2 & 5) and did not include what got the editor’s eye.

1.
seagulls scanning tide marks
as if tasked

2.
competing with shadows
the winter wind

3.
salmon–
on winter clouds
a hue

4.
stepping into a fog
knowing
white also fades

5.
origami–
in her hands a crane
a smile

Origami crane folded from one uncut square of paper by Andreas Bauer courtesy of wikicommons

January 8, 2011 Posted by | haiku, poetry | , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 8 Comments

Lullaby (yet another lyric poem from haiku-strays)

I wrote this poem on one of the early days when obsessed with learning haiku, the form seemed to shape my brain–wherever that part is where words run into lines. This thought, this memory sparked after I wrote a personal essay that I submitted to Passager about my grandmother’s bath-hair washing ritual (“Digos: a ritual” also posted at my other blog, http://filipineses09.wordpress.com). The rhythm apparently timed in with my measured strides during my daily walk at the Inner Harbor in Baltimore where I lived then. Water, birds: seagulls, ducks, robins, ravens, orioles, sparrows; trees: conifers, chestnuts, magnolias; weeds: dandelions, clover, jewel weeds co-inhabited the dome–a span of sky. I walked daily toward dusk, which is why perhaps this poem—or haiku that strayed—is a lullaby.

grandma on a swing
flying on a lullaby–
a smile thin as breath

combing her hair, my fingers
the teeth untangling silk knots–
her tiara

cheeks I kiss–once
a cushion of veined organza
now loose ripples

Paloma, she warbles–
a dove, my name, alights
on her lips, flapping wings

moons chasing suns
sprout wings–in the darkness
whispers grow eyes

in her flight

December 21, 2010 Posted by | free verse, lyric poetry, poetry | , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

mementoes (when my haiku mutate into free verse)

through shedding arcs
up the sand hill down the slide
i make a short cut to my wedding

my veil tangled in a hail
of magnolia endings

six heads bob over the hedge but
a man selling balloons i pull up
a picture the sun

fades in my hand my ring turns
blue in autumn rain

i gawk on my mud-soaked feet
pigeons i startle whoosh up
spray the sky

as seagulls prancing stomp
on my impaled shadow

on my wall i let go of daylight
on the window ledge
my cabbage roses wilt

on leaf tips I glimpse my tears
dripping from my shredded heart

December 14, 2010 Posted by | free verse, poetry | , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 6 Comments

silence

silence—

 even seagulls imitate

 the stones

August 8, 2010 Posted by | haiku, poetry | , | 4 Comments