Sweetness – Haiku – February 2, 2016

still life

fresh fruit
sweetness lingers in the air
autumn harvest

freezing morning
warm smells from the kitchen
hot chocolate

[ah – warm toast]
fresh smell of sweet cinnamon
childhood thoughts

baking
the house fills with cookie smells
snow storm howls

© G.s.k. ‘16

Carpe Diem #909 Sweetness

Carpe Diem Haiku Special – Haibun – December 19, 2015

carpet of leaves

Walking through a carpet of crisp coloured leaves, my mind returns to childhood and other leaves.

Autumn was a wonderful time to be a child when I was growing up. We children would pull out the rakes and begin to gather the leaves together into a huge mound and then jump into the leaves.  The smell of the earth seemed to be all around us, the crackling and swishing sound of the leaves excited us as we pretended to swim in an ocean of leaves.  Afterwards the leaves would have to be gathered up again into another hill of colour.

We could pass hours like this but finally Dad came out reminding us that we were making that mound of leaves for a reason.  The reason was that we were going to make a bonfire.  As the sun began to sink, Dad lit the fire and the leaves went up in a blaze of glory.  Once the fire died down, he threw a pail of water onto them and we scattered the wet ash around the lawn.  The last ritual of autumn was then about to begin.

Mom had prepared hot chocolate.  We sat around the kitchen table as she poured the dark sweet liquid over a snow-white marshmallow, put the cup onto a plate for each of us and added some hot buttered toast.  I think no chore was ever enjoyed more than leaf-raking in the autumn.

a carpet of leaves
the smell of earth abounds
childhood memories

© G.s.k. ‘15

Carpe Diem Special #187 Georgia’s 3rd, a haibun “idyllic spring”

Christmas Rounds – Jane’s Circular Poem – The Twenty-Eight – December 17, 2015

spinning tree

Following their ancient rounds
Sounds of joy floats through the town
Down the alleys ‘cross the mall
All the children dream of this:
Kris Kringle’s bright reindeer sleigh
Away on Christmas evening
Following their ancient rounds …

In children’s dreams:
Creams and candy
Dandy toys too
Blue berry pies
Skies with snow-flakes
Skates on lakes – spin
In children’s dreams.

© G.s.k. ‘15

This morning I had a really stimulating meet with The Secret Keeper about her last week’s poetry prompt (Weekly Writing Prompt – please click to see the interesting prompts she puts up), intrigued that she’d written with the combination of the circular poem and the twenty-eight for her 18 December post (spoilers!)  I thought I’d like to try it – but forgot that the twenty eight is a seven syllable poem in  only four lines, however, thank heaven’s there’s a variation  .. so I wrote the variation as a “twenty-eight circular poem” (seven lines with four syllables each).

I’ll link this to B&P’s Shadorma & Beyond – Jane’s Circular Poem … (also The Twenty-Eight)

The Wooden Steed – Prose Poem – December 13, 2015

wooden horse- Innsbruck Christmas fair

Maegan lost her steed as she slept under an oak tree one summer’s eve in the country of Wales.  He was no standard steed, as indeed neither was she, as she was a winsome fairy maiden.  Her true love had carved him of the most precious wood then gifted it to her the day they were betrothed.  She could have wept, but knew it was quite useless, so she searched through the forest and the towns ’til he was found.  He was on a dull pavement impaled on a pole in front of a pub, her anger knew no bounds. So she ranted in rage, threw fairy dust around (the town shook in a quake ’til all were afraid) then Maegan took off with a bound on her steed; neither were seen there again.

© G.s.k. ‘15

Lost Shadows – Fantasy – November 19, 2015

Haiga 20

Not all days are the same … some are brighter some less … and that seems to make a big difference in how one feels.

Maryanne walked down the trail leading to the railway tracks just out back of town.  The path ran past the paper mill, now long abandoned.  The train still passed through town from time to time, but the tracks she would soon be crossing were now abandoned.  The wooden ties choked with weeds had long splinters sticking out like ancient miniature spears from the decayed wood. They ran into the factory itself … then she supposed they had got caught inside never to be able to get out again.

Maryanne was a loner.  She rarely went on her hikes with anyone except her shadow.  She whistled, Me and My Shadow as she walked down the trail and crossed the old tracks then turned towards the woods she’d yet to explore a little further on.  She liked the idea that her shadow was alive; ‘like Peter Pan’s shadow’ she thought.  She enjoyed watching it grow and shrink and wondered where it went when the light was gone.  She felt pretty certain that her shadow was an inhabitant of another dimension.

“Hey Shadow, where do you go when the lights go out?”

Her shadow didn’t answer …  it just grew longer and longer growing towards the woods as she got nearer to her destination.  She knew she’d lose her shadow for a little while once she began walking in the gloom of the trees.

“Hey Shadow, why’re you stretching out towards the path … want to play hide and seek?  Guess we will in a few minutes anyway!”

She topped a small hill and then ran precipitously towards the woods.

Once there, she entered the woods and she was really alone. Or so she thought. Shadows seemed to be everywhere … lots and lots of shadows.  She thought it strange that there should be so many shadows but not her own.  And these shadows didn’t feel like they were friendly shadows at all.  An unease crept over her and she felt a chill.  The shadows seemed to come closer and closer.

Suddenly she stepped into a small clearing and the sun projected her shadow.  She looked curiously at it, there was something wrong … her shadow seemed to have a sword!

“Get back you gormless fiends!  You are attacking my friend whom I will protect to the end!” said a reedy willowy voice.  Her shadow swished its sword back and forth.

She heard a crashing sound coming from the woods and soon into the clearing ran her school mate, Michael carrying a sword.  He was one of the odd boys out … a nerd they called him.  He was always talking about dwarfs, dragons, magic and elves.  Most of the kids just ignored him, but sometimes she’d sit with him at lunch and listen to his stories, which she found really interesting.

“Whatever are you doing here Maryanne? Don’t you know these woods are haunted by the lost shadows?” he exclaimed.

“Uh, lost shadows?  I didn’t know shadows could get lost!” she said as she caught sight of her own shadow, now sword-less. “How come you’re here anyway?”

“I heard you yelling.  This is where the shadows go when their humans abandon the earth. You do know that shadows are alive, right?”

Looking at her own shadow once again she nodded.  “Yes, I think I’ve always known that shadows have a life of their own .. I learnt that from Peter Pan…”

Taking her hand, sword raised, Michael led her out of the woods.  As soon as they found the sun again both their shadows stretched far from the evening light, they were so close they seemed to be holding hands her head on his shoulder … though the two had separated as soon as they’d left the woods.

© G.s.k. ‘15

Tale Weaver #39 – Shadows

 

Free Verse: Magic Beside The Window – First Posted – May 12, 2013

by the window sepiaFree Verse

Magic Beside The Window

Childhood passed beside a window

Coloring, drawing, daydreaming

Watching as the cars drove past

Watching birds and butterflies

Imagining places that never existed

Of people who never were.

I’d imagine flying horses

Princes, castles and dragons flying –

I’d see the terrible witches

And lovely fairies too.

I’d have myself a tea party

I’d invite in all my friends!

Black and yellow stuffed dog

Pink cow and scruffy bear…

My mother’d bring the snacks out

We’d laugh and play for hours

Then I’d tell to them a tale.

(When finally I went  to school

After a month or two,

I found that those dear windows,

Saved me from boredom too.)

Years went by and I travelled far

I met many a dragon and visited castles

I’ve come across a prince or two

And some really terrible witches!

The fairies blessed me with my lovely sons

And I’ve nothing to regret.

I just wanted to say here,

Thinking of my childhood:

My friends then were my windows.

My loved ones were my books.

My world my imagination.

I hug them still and sing their praise,

For they made me who I am.

© G.s.k ‘13

In Silence – Haiku – October 3, 2015

signed_ballloons_points

[in silence]
the balloon drifts at sunset
from the crying child

© G.s.k. ‘15

 

Carpe Diem Special #170 Michael Dylan Welch’s 1st roar of the midway

This is Michael Dylan Welch’s poem for which mine is inspired:

roar of the midway—
the toddler’s balloon
rises in moonlight

© Michael Dylan Welch

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

The Master – Wordle (prose poem) – February 2, 2015

Teddy & feet

The Master

A rainy day and he and his young patron played inside all day, first, rescuing Mistress Mary’s dolls from a fate worse that death, a terrible dragon’s rage —  so tickity, tickity, tick … up and down, up and down the stairs they went in quiet ticking measured steps, so’s not to waken the beast.

Then they’d had a race, in a state of high excitement — thump, thump, thump … up and down, up and down the stairs they went, the sound spread like a thunder-cloud and echoed through the house.

That night, Spot thought to himself with great humility, ah… what a wonderful day we’ve spent, then laid beside his sleeping master’s bed, spread out like a great black and white rug.

 

I love Eclectic Corner (medium)Sunday Whirl banner

 

Eclectic Corner #5 Story Prompt and Sunday Whirl Wordle:  day, race, spend, state, rescue, spread, ticking, humility, cloud, patron, measure, host

Morning Haiku and Waka – January 19, 2015

zoomed tree house

in the tree house
dolls and bears ’round the table
high tea party
little Suzy ate the cakes
and the bears became soggy

five o’clock tea
little sandwiches and cakes
no sugar please

© G.s.k. 15

Written for the Time Glass Challenge at Carpe Diem Haiku Kai .. the theme is High Tea …