I love to read...I like to write...I've travelled the world and seen the sites. I'm past my prime and feel so young, especially when near the young. I'm writing this blog, to remember, to think and to share...with the hopes that someone else will make a comment that will stimulate new thoughts and pathways.
Actually, I'm a gabber, so the logical extension of gabbing is blogging! ;-)
In this time of coronavirus everything in one way or another brings to mind the situation we are living through. Looking at all the maps of the various countries reminded me of the autumn vines in our area.
Vines here are very important and when they are red … then soon the leaves will all fall and the once beautiful fields of red will look dead and forlorn awaiting the white and black of winter. But then there is the rebirth of the vines in spring …
a crowed beach
so alone –
catching the wind
– last light
I think the idea of a shahai or a haiga is not to describe the illustration but to communicate a feeling or sensation that the photo has “captured”. So, the gull hit my fantasy but Instead of saying:
catching the wind
– last light
I wanted to communicate the overall sensation of that moment. The swooping of the gull, being buffeted in the wind, even as I was buffeted when I took the photograph.
Now dear readers, what is your opinion about this shahai … any suggestions, any comments? Thanks for stopping by.
behind the mask
*For years I’ve been combining haiku with photos. When I began to do this I was informed that this was a haiga … in the meantime I’ve come across an article from the Haiku Foundations forum state that they should be called sha hai or photo + haiku and is the combination of two art forms to make a third. I agree.
Santa Chiara di Trento, Italy
Haibun – COVID-19
Reading news reports of the horror that is COVID-19 can is chilling. And although the horror of what is happening is wounding to the heart, in these times, there are those narcissists who spread false and horrifying news reports on the Social Media pages. Of course no one requires us to read them or look at what’s on the news.
sleeping in my soft bed
safe and warm
The COVID-19 pandemic which has hit our world, they said wouldn’t be as bad as the annual flu season. Because in our age, we have an influenza season. I guess because influenza is endemic? Some say only those with weak immunological systems and the very old will probably die. The young are safe, they are strong … no children under 16 have been affected. And then, today, it’s an official news report, an infant dies of COVID-19. Many shutter.
age of miricles
It happened so fast. Just a few short weeks ago everyone was sitting back in their comfortable homes, watching their TVs. The news commentators tut-tutted on how inefficient the Chinese government was in getting the illness under control. Commenting on the lock downs in Wuhan and Hubei province with condescension . Then as it seemed that things might calm down, only for it to reach Italy. The European nations looked on as she was caught in the maelstrom. They looked on, sometimes cruelly joking about the situation, not preparing. It took a week or so and other European nations began to succumb, first one or two cases then hundreds and finally thousands. The United States began to report deaths in Washington state. The WHO proclaimed that COVID-19was a pandemic. Finally the United Kingdom capitulated and their Prime Minister tested positive to the virus. Many more nations are being adding to the lists of those who have entered the brave new world of COVID-19. Crematoriums are consuming the dead.
lost in smoke
ravens fly in droves
Published in Virtual Haiku
amid cherry blossoms
smell of India ink
in my drawing
© Milan Rajkumar
.first cherry blossoms
in a haiku
the smell of Indian ink
in the empty piaza
no laughing children
chase them in play
The request is to write a ku that reflects the atmosphere of the coronavirus in my area. I live in northern Italy.
Written for Haiku Nuggets
with a lotus
in an old pond
(c) gsk ’20
Ashish’s prompt :: rat From TRIVENI World of Haiku
just a sneeze
innocent the rat
among spring blossoms
freed from history
Trains still run here in the silent world of illness that is Italy. There are those who believe that the virus which has killed so many is not really so very bad. Often people don’t believe, until they are in someway hurt, that bad things really do exist.
I sit on my terrace in the silence, the birds sing, the wind is warm and pleasant, the sun is warm. There are no distant sounds of cars or jets high up in the sky to leave their white streaks. The sky is limpid, virginal in fact, as though mankind has ceased to exist.
Looking back on the spring of 2020, I will remember the silence of the clear skies and the earth as seen from satellites showing a “surprising” decrease in pollution. I and many will also remember the silent truckloads of corpses, victims of the COVID-19, that snaked through the early morning streets of Bergamo. Many may never live through the silence of mourning loved ones. I mourn the many I’ve never met feeling sure that no one will mourn me.
But we are not yet finished with this illness, though we may be bored with it. It’s so difficult to be healthy and isolated in this silent spring. Life is being renewed and spring beckons to us like a siren.
The silence is too loud. We are so used to our comforting noise … the constant hubble-bubble of machinery and commentary. Some will say: how absurd, why should we be isolated like this … and will congregate. Then soon there will be more silence.
my heart beat
in social isolation
a silent world