30 Days of Haiga – Haiga Two – September 2, 2015

Haiga Two

Dear Readers:

This is the month when Rick Daddario launches his now yearly daily challenge … 30 days of Haiga, an event now in its fifth year … Due to a personal tragic loss, I think Rick may be a little late with his usual vivacious prompts … but he has decided to go forward with the event even in the face of his loss … and I have decided to follow the event this year with or without prompts.

With affection for my dear Hawaiian friend … I close this with an Aloha! Bastet

Indian Summer – Haiku/tanka – September 2, 2015

leaves

Indian summer
golden leaves and morning frost
hazel-nuts ripen

gathering chestnuts
readying winter fire-wood
warm autumn days

these sun warmed valleys
soon will be white with new snow
persimmon’s heavy
but still green with unripe fruit
summer lingers for a while

memories of fall
daddy burning dead leaves
mom making plum jam
I cover my new school books
with brown shopping bags and tape

© G.s.k. ‘15

Written for: Heeding Haiku With Chèvrefeuille September 2nd “Indian Summer”

Last Days of Summer – Dodoitsu – September 2, 2015

autumn leaves

the umbrella forests – gone
the streets empty of tourists
the children ready for school
last days of summer

the vendemmia begins
slow drives behind carts of grapes
smell  of mashed fruit fills the air
first sign of autumn

soon swallows will be going
back to their African homes
another summer passes
the autumn leaves fall

© G.s.k. ‘15

Written for: Carpe Diem Tokubetsudesu #59 Variety … “end of summer”

Līgo Haibun Challenge – Picture Week

Ese’s Voice presents this week’s Ligo Haibun Challenge

John sent me some of his photos from his trip to Africa, and I couldn’t help thinking back to the days when I’d walked the Sahel in Chad.  Of course, he’d been to Tanzania, the young woman depicted had little to do with the young Chadian women I’d seen, except maybe for the eyes.  Eyes illuminated with the pleasure of life.  Eyes that had the dreamy quality of fulfillment.

The life of an African woman, isn’t easy.  She gets up at dawn, goes fetch the water and lights the fire to boil that water and make millet gruel, then maybe she starts pounding the millet with friends.  They sing as they work, oh and if she has a child, the child is slung on her back with a shawl made for that purpose…well maybe not, but it works well keeping the baby close and protected.  Every so often she sits back in the shade to feed the child. The days go on, cooking, singing, cleaning and taking care of her youngest children perhaps with the help of the older daughters, if she has them.

Sahel winds whisper
women go about their days
children suckle

Andromeda – Choka – September 1, 2015

Of those times gone by
Here sing Andromeda’s tale
Whose mother was proud
And whose father the king
To save his kingdom
Found no better solution
Then to sacrifice
His young daughter to the sea –
For her mother’s boasts
Had offended Poseidon
[boastful proud beauty
your daughter’s a sacrifice
to a jealous god]
Andromeda awaited
Death on a sea rock
To be rented by Draco …
The beautiful maid
Captured Perseus’s love
Unlike her mother
The fair maid was quite modest
He asked for her hand
Then killed the cruel monster
In the aftermath
He turned her betrothed to stone
She followed him home
And gave him six fine children
Spawning many kings
See her in the night-time skies
Honoured in beauty

Andromeda queen
Saved from her mother’s boasting
By Perseus king –
But who appeased Poseidon
When Andromeda went free?

© G.s.k. ‘15

Written for Carpe Diem #809 Andromeda

Carpe Diem Special – Waka – August 31, 2015

Birthday

Birthday

just another day
so like every other day
this miracle – life
funny to think you weren’t
and then suddenly you were

[a world without you]
it’s hard to imagine days
before you were born

a tiny web
grows daily on the tree of life
anchored by fine threads
glistening gossamer lines
fragile – easily broken

§§§§§§

Ah – hello my bouncing boy
at last you’ve joined the party
may bright sunshine warm your days
and love be your home

© G.s.k. ‘15

Lolly’s inspirational tanka is about a life passing – my waka are about life becoming – the cycle of life is so mysterious if one thinks about it.

One moment the world is turning and someone isn’t a part of it and then it’s like they’d always existed.  At the moment of passing – the world goes on as though that person never was. Fragile spider’s webs indeed.

August is the month when two of my son’s came into the world – and though they’re now grown and far away, a fragile thread remains, reminding me of the day they became a part of life, so many years ago.

from where did you come –
where will you finally go
when winter winds blow

© G.s.k. ‘15

§§§§§§§§

Lolly wrote:

[…] “This tanka was inspired by a Carpe Diem prompt “spider web.” I like its dark, gothic mood and the alliteration in the last two lines. It definitely suggests death and grief as we all have to go through a loved one’s personal items when they pass. I remember doing so for my mother-in-law as well as my mother and both grandmothers. The last two lines really bring the thought home. After the death of a parent it seems one’s “anchor”  or security or a part of what made us feel secure is loosened or even gone.

It’s a sad tanka, but I love for it because it expresses what I often feel when I think of all the women in my family that have passed away” […]

sifting through
the personal effects
of a spider’s web
an autumn wind loosens
another anchor thread

© Laura Williams (a.k.a. Lolly)
published: American Tanka; Issue #13

Written for:

Carpe Diem Special #164 Lolly’s 6th “another anchor thread”

My Childhood Sunday – Dodoitsu – August 30, 2015

sitting by the kitchen door
watching mamma fry chicken
biscuits in the oven bake
my childhood Sunday

laying on the shaggy rug
reading the funny papers
Jimmy Dorsey plays his sax
my childhood Sunday

a walk with my dog Panda
a trip to farmer’s market
coming home an ice cream cone
my childhood Sunday

but here and now I’ve no dog
no funny papers or rug
Jimmy Dorsey is long gone
with childhood Sundays

© G.s.k. ‘15