jornales

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

Window by window and We (two ‘tiny’ haibun at Prune Juice)

Window by window 

She peels her mornings.  A miser of darkness, she lets the sun in by strands. I saw her once. She is a flower.  

at the cusp 

of Cancer and Leo 

a fire wheel

 

We

We write our names together. It’s marriage says the book. Our meals apart. It’s work. We feed different nights. In different skies. What then is it?

cross wind—

cliffs echoing

wrong echoes 

 

prune juice November 2014

 

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November 25, 2014 Posted by | haibun, poetry | , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

ice cream/day moon my voted haiku at the June 2012 Shiki Kukai

Kigo*: ice cream

ice cream
the prescription
she misplaced

(5 points)

Free format: day moon

day moon
hovering on her window
a Luna moth

(8 points}

*A kigo is a season word entered into a data base that if used expands a haiku with a wider sense shared worldwide. Most kigo words are found in the World Kigo Database. While it lists predominantly Japanese season words, as is understandable, Gabi Greve who maintains WKD has been inviting haiku poets to contribute kigo in their locale, hence, further widening the data base. WKD is easy to access on the web.

A kukai is a prompted haiku exercise wherein participants (only) vote anonymously from an anonymous list of haiku with votes limited only to a total of 6 votes. This kukai is named after another Japanese haiku master, Shiki.

July 10, 2012 Posted by | haiku, poetry | , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 1 Comment

some of my spring haiku with French translation by Serge Tome@tempslibres.org

 gray spring dawn-
the shiver of daffodils
in my bones

aube grise de printemps –
le frisson des jonquilles
dans mes os

this cold-
Sakura cherry blossoms
on my window

ce froid –
fleurs de cerisiers Sakura
à ma fenêtre

this sunless spring day
chickadees chatter on-
my indecisions

ce jour de printemps sans soleil
les mésanges discutent –
mes indécisions

                                        watching rain
                                                    drum beat on window pane–
                                                                                              the deaf cat

                                                                                   il regarde la pluie
tambouriner sur la vitre —
le chat sourd

spring fever–
shoots among the lilies
she can’t name

fièvre de printemps —
des pousses parmi les lys
qu’elle ne peux nommer

tempslibres.org

June 13, 2012 Posted by | haiku, poetry | , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 6 Comments

begonias once

autumn rain

pooling on window pots

begonias once

 

 

November 27, 2011 Posted by | haiku, poetry | , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

closer to nothing (NaHaiWriMo prompt on natural disaster)

St. Andrew's Parish Church tower, Bacarra, Ilocos Norte, Philippines

closer to nothing
under its shrinking shadow–
Bacarra tower*

Ooops!! 5-7-5, sorry Michael! Didn’t mean to. But just to share for now…
*brick and mortar tower in my hometown where according to legend, a Spanish royal guard could ride on horseback through the stairs inside of it, bearing the red and gold colors to the third window. This baroque tower built on ‘obras pias’ (alternate tribute of hard labor by the natives) in the 1800s completed toward the end of that century, was known to be the tallest in the archipelago so much so that its domed tip could be seen towns away and the toll of its enormous bells could be heard amid the raging South China sea. Its top window broke during a massive earthquake in the 1930s (can’t recall the exact date) with its dome humbled onto the fracture. With each earthquake, quite frequent in the Philippines, the dome would be crunched lower and lower until another strong one pushed it off its precarious perch to fall on the ground. Ruins of its first window from its base of brick and mortar are all that remains.

August 25, 2011 Posted by | haiku, poetry | , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

all i can see (sequence in black and white, take off from the NaHaiWriMo facebook site)

all i can see–
black and white
in your eyes

gray–
when the sun falls
on your lies

black–
dregs settling
our arguments

white–
our window blinds
turned down

ashes
on the burner your note
in black and white

Copyright (c) by Alegria Imperial 2011

(take off from Melissa Allen’s prompt, black and white, at the still-on NaHaiWriMo facebook site)

April 26, 2011 Posted by | haiku, poetry, sequence | , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

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.

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

sunless spring day haiku

1.
gray spring dawn–
the shiver of daffodils
in my bones

2.
this cold–
Sakura cherry blossoms
on my window

3.
this sunless spring day
chickadees chatter on–
my indecisions

March 21, 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

trove (sequence)

on street –
a shower of petals
for no one

i meet
a hissing rag rug
but dog-stunned cat

singling along
i catch a comet spray
among the daffodils

and pass by
side lying pigeon eyeing
sky path—unblinking

on my window—
potted jewelweeds,
had shed off their sun-strips

the moon shines
on maple trees—
on a city asleep

published in LYNX XXIII:3, October, 2008

January 21, 2011 Posted by | haiku, poetry | , , , , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments