Basho’s “where the hototogisu is singing” – April 19, 2015

no wo yoko ni uma hikimuke yo hototogisu

riding over the summer moor, –
“ah! lead the horse that way!”
where the hototogisu is singing

© Basho (Tr. R.H. Blyth)

The goal of the Carpe Diem Haiku Kai – Sparkling Stars feature is to try to compose another haiku in the same spirit as the one given following the classical rules:

Mori (TN), Italy

driving past spring fields
“stop by the road and listen!”
larks sing in the mist

© G.s.k. ‘15

Realization of God – Morning Haiku and Waka – April 19, 2015

wind of time

wind of time

Today at Carpe Diem Haiku Kai, we have a particularly difficult, for me, prompt.  We are to write about the ‘realization of god’. Our host today – Hamish – wrote a very interestingly profound post and I especially enjoyed this consideration:

“… The same can be said of haiku overtly declaring one’s faith. I have read many haiku showing, not declaring faith through wonderful imagery, and without stating the presence of a deity. That is the way to go. And sometimes, beautiful nature is enough…”

and here are some haiku examples from the same post, by haiku poets I’d never heard of, and so very interesting to me!


green many a trees
colourful, beautiful flowers
God’s own country

Risha Ahmed (12 yrs)

I will finish by two haiku originally in Malayalam, the language in Kerala, where all travellers should visit.In 2012, haiku poets who write in Malayalam, organised themselves into a forum called Haiku Association of India (HAI) and published a collection of Malayalam (and English) haiku, named “Kaikkudannayile Kadal” (”sea in the cupped palm”). The 2 haiku that appear here have been selected from this book:

choru pothinja
ila thorannappol
ammayude mannam

I open the leaf
that holds my meal
mother’s fragrance

Abhay Jayapalan

ellum poovum
oru urullachorum
achante ormakal

sesame seeds, flowers,
and a ball of rice,
memories of father

Manoj Attingal


now my efforts – 

wind on the sand
where once great mountains stood
once a bird flew high
fishermen lost their net
but the sun still shines at dawn

both crows and larks
brightly sing their song at dawn
this is creation
to each his own song
to each his own story

and Bastet ponders
the ways of the Universe
first seeds of life
like the infinite stars or sand
are found in a frog

© G.s.k. ‘15

This post is linked to: Carpe Diem Haiku Kai – God Realization and Walking With Sekhmet 

The shore-line – Kikôbun – April 18, 2015



The smell of sea-weed rotting along the beach is the smell I associate with ‘il mare’ (the sea).  People never say: “Ah … finally, the smell of sea-weed rotting on the beach!” they say: “ah … finally the smell of the sea!” They call that particular odour or perfume; the smell of iodine or the smell of salt air, which is very romantic but basically it is the smell of rotting sea-weed. In Tuscany the beaches all along the coast of Grossetto are protected by sea pines … in the summer, the smell of warm pine sap mingles with the smell of sea-weed. When I think of the sea, I think of Grossetto and  particularly of the Parco dell’Uccellina in Alberese, there’s no ladies perfume that smells sweeter to me.

pine sap and sea-weed
under the August full moon

© G.s.k. ‘15

Written for Carpe Diem Haiku Kai – Time Machine #8 – Perfume

Tan Renga – Lost – April 18, 2015

feeling alone
lost in the woods around Edo –
just the autumn wind
© Yozakura
winter coldness presaged
the golden leaves keep falling
stumbling along
lost in the woods in the rain
mist my companion

© G.s.k. ‘15

Our hokku host today is Yozakura … a little  unknown haiku-poet who was a disciple of Basho.  This post is linked to: Carpe Diem Haiku Kai

Wisdom – Morning Haiku and Waka – April 17, 2015


north wind blowing
warm rain-laden clouds form
to shower spring blooms

a dove on the horizon
playing in the wind

here and now
no worries for tomorrow
forgetting the past

the sun rises
and singing birds sing hymns
life blossoms
don’t spit against the wind
come in out of the rain

© G.s.k. ‘15

Linked to Carpe Diem Haiku Kai – Wisdom

A late Whirligig – Wordleing – April 17, 2015

 photo 8e2aec42-c20f-47e1-aa74-0e200988c1f8_zpspfxveprd.jpg

Into the mirror
He vented about age
While brushing his hair
And washing his face.
Ah! How time seemed to ravish him
Tooth, nail and pate!
Then he looked at his weight,
And just shook his head …
So, he spooned up some syrup
To make a change in his fate –
An orange flavoured mixture
To stop the aging process
To leave a page maybe yet unturned
(At least for a while, or so he prayed)
Hoping to cement
At least, his hair on his head
And not dirty the sink
Each morning at dawn
And before he went to bed!
He wanted to stop
His aging prematurely
After all he was just barely ninety-one.

© G.s.k. ‘15

 This is a late entry for Sunday Whirligig 2 which comes out on Wednesday April 8 … I thought I had an e-mail that would advise me when the post came out, but I was mistaken … Many thanks to Magical Mystical Teacher for subbing for the Sunday Whirl!

Sunday's Whirligig logo

Friday Fictioneers .. The Fire .. April 17, 2015


Photo Credits: Roger Bultot

Photo Credits: Roger Bultot

They’d lived in the white house only a few months before the fire. They’d gone to the movies, returning home, they saw the fire engines pumping water into their home. People stood around on the street as people do in the face of some exciting tragedy.

Mary held their tiny daughter in her arms as a tear rolled down her cheek thinking of their belongings gone up in smoke.

“I wonder what started the fire?” she said.

“Seems someone left the roast on the fire before going out forgot to turn it off!” said a neighbour.

Then she remembered!

© G.s.k. ‘15


This is a memoir of sorts … actually a couple of bits of my early memories .. in Mississippi as a child I did live in a white house, there was a fire which we came home to find (but I don’t remember much more than the fire) and my Mother left a roast cooking on the range one evening, my Father had come home and decided we should pass the weekend with my Grandparents … in the rush to dump some clothes in the car, she forgot the roast.  Fortunately, outside of a lot of smoke in the kitchen upon our return everything went alright.


Written for Friday Fictioneers

Pranayama (Breath Control)- Morning Haiku and Waka – April 16, 2015


In the early hours of evening, the pain grew becoming an entity in its own right. What was a mild moment of discomfort, became a maelstrom of  pain, wave after wave pulling her into some place far from the reality of daily life.  There seemed nothing except that centre of pain.  Then, there was a moments calm and she returned for a moment to recognize her surroundings

He held her hand.

“Good, you’re doing good!” he assured her calmly. And she focused upon him, his calm, his words.  Eyes meeting eyes.  The pain returned.

“Look at me!  Watch me and follow me!” he said and started to breath – in then out slow deliberate breaths and she copied him.

In her mind she drifted along with the music that played in the room and she breathed with him.  The pain, though still central in her life now, was tolerable.

“Breath in breath out … now quickly!” and he began to pant and she panted too.

Pain, breath, a thought for the infinite that is life an ocean crashing and then … with a whoosh like a wave crashing one last time upon the rocks there came:  peace and silence, except for her baby’s first cry.

guiding energy

© G.s.k. ‘15

Linked to Carpe Diem Haiku Kai – Pranayama

Ghost Cat – Haibun – April 15, 2015

Cat on the Wall

The house had been abandoned for years.  The old lady who’d lived there, having passed away, could no longer feed the dozens of cats which used to visit her daily. She’d fed them all indiscriminately, her only exception being cats who fought.  She really detested those battles and would chase the contenders away with a hose she kept for this purpose!

I’d never noticed the white cat that sat on her wall until one early morning around dawn. I was sitting on my loggia and saw it poised there like a statue.  I figured it must have been one of the many who roam around the town at night, the Italians believe that cats should roam freely.  But somehow, this cat was different.  It glowed slightly.

One early morning it and I saw two of my neighbour’s cats readying for a territorial fight.  They spat and caterwauled, making a dickens of a racket.  The silent spectator just seemed to look on indifferently.  Finally the encounter seemed to go beyond the initial vocal stages and with their bodies puffed up twice their size, the males moved cautiously towards one another.  At that point, the strange white cat literally drifted down from its perch landing between the two contenders!  I thought they’d looked puffed up until that moment – they seemed like two fur balls then and with a loud meow they took off into different directions.

The white cat returned to her perch.

in the dawn
the white cat or its master
keep the peace

© G.s.k. ‘15

Divided Path

Written and linked to Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie – Fairy Tale Prompt