A new book for more small Japanese forms |
My haiku book has inspired more daily writing. This will be a place for the new small stuff writing, senryu and tanka. |
never too late to reach mountain summits edge of courage [2013.9.9...b] |
under blue skies reaching for eternity two lovers dream [2013.8.9...b] |
out of grey fog a tree branch or a hand my survival [2013.7.9…b] |
sky torn by grey reflects this searing pain thunder of tears [2013.6.9…b] |
city lights pale when stars outshine the night magic exists [2013.5.9...c] |
I have no love but this wild idea of you holding my hand we will not be a mirror of someone else's fear [2013.4.9…b] |
all in twilight greys sheen like silver coins street lamps sputter gold illuminate silence hold hands with the moon [2013.3.9…b] |
in the sparkle of broken glass shards an emerald beached from sea wreckage richer than sunlight [2013.2.9…b] |
from the earth vegetable harvest children frown until they too grow tall next generation [2013.1.9…b] |
hence this falling rain drenches heartache with questions I have no answers that are not words piercing holes in the single cloud called love [2013.31.8…b] |
he builds bookshelves from ideas and dreams birds will nest there [2013.30.8...a] |
I watch her move in everything new in boxes where was her childhood? mine surrounds me on each shelf in a house that is my own [2013.29.8…a] |
Like white lace, fog envelops the contours of the city below our hill. Yesterday's heavy dark clouds have blown away, leaving an eiderdown of light gray. Light rain falls as the sky yawns. Enough to wet the windows, yesterday's wind has not strayed off to other horizons. No noise disturbs the silence. Passers-by have left their umbrellas in their cupboards and prefer to stay at home. Cars transport no one. I hear nothing of their telltale swish over wet pavements. Occasionally the cat's bell reminds me he has found another plaything in the bathroom waste bin. A cue tip. He is oblivious of the gray day, and always finds other games when his perches in sunny laziness disappear. I had planned a trip of errands later in the city. I do not know if I will be inspired by its gloom. I left my blue and red striped umbrella in my friend's car on another day when the rain never decided to fall. I may wait until tomorrow morning to leave the dim coziness of my interior. quiet gray day summer's lights fade birds do not soar [2013.27.8...a] |
her two withered hands reach up to touch his sad face it is time to leave [2013.23.8...b] |
a simple bouquet of colorful wildflowers left on a park bench a treasure for a poor lad on his grandmother's birthday [2013.21.8...b] |