Morning Haiku and Waka – July 22, 2016

in deep waters
cold and angst of drowning
at day break

© Gsk ’16

this summer dawn
awaiting the breaking storm
ducks shelter

© Gsk ’16

Emotions and Seasons – Tanka – December 5, 2015

Emotions and Seasons

in a sun-kissed field
two cocks strut and crow
rain clouds gather
up comes an unruly wind
feathers fly hither and yon

falling rain
running down a window pane
so melancholy
somehow the room is darker
memories of her leaving

tinkling ice cubes
her laughter echos still
walking in the snow
his coat is not warm enough
to ward off the shame-filled chill

sun through the blossoms
warming the lover’s hearts
sweet caressing breeze
blows across their nudity
a blackbird sings their song

© G.s.k. ‘15

Miniature Writing Challenge 19 – Emotions

Living – Tanaga

life’s maelstrom whirls around
from passion to safer ground
even the doe will give fight
when dark anger clouds her light

life is not just white and black
sometimes, wiser to attack
cloudy days turn to sunshine
anger happens so won’t  whin

life’s moments are treasure chests
I accept what life behests
walk my pathway as it comes
in wealth or degraded slums

 

Tanagas are reaching new audiences. As you might expect, new audiences bring changes. Today you will see Tanagas with titles and with new rhyming patterns (for example, AABB, ABAB, ABBA, AAAB, BAAA, and so on). Life advice (morals, ethics, proverbs) may or may not be present. (Jen from Blog it or Lose it)

Villanelle: Over the void

Prompt 182: from We Write Poems is about Bridges and what’s on the other side…

Villanelle

Over the Void

Life’s bridge crosses a dark eternal void
That leads from yesterday ‘til the morrow
Your blinding illusions we can’t avoid.

Huitain: Do not untimely mourn

From Dungeon Prompts Week Six:

*Write a short story, poem, or share a picture or song that represents mortality to you.

Huitain 

Do not untimely mourn

Though I see your smile daily glow,
These days will pass-by all too soon,
Leaving an emptiness to grow,
Within me ’til I too shall swoon,
Alas, ’tis the fate of humans born…
But wait! Look at autumn’s full moon!
Do not shed tears, untimely mourn,
Sing now with me a living tune.

Haibun:

Ligo Haibun Challenge:

As always, a choice..choose one: you may begin writing…now…

Paradise

Apathy

Her life seemed empty to her at that moment.  Each day, was just an effort to keep going, nothing seemed to interest her when these dark periods crept up on her, except her writing.

These periods usually came on her at the tail end of a stream of bickering with her husband.  According to him, all she did was waste her life spending hours writing.  If she ignored him, he’d get angrier and start picking a fight for just about anything.  She’d begin to feel the numbness grow, the feeling of hopelessness.  Then, the heaviness in her mind and chest would grow, until all she wanted to do was sleep, never wake-up.  The only thing that kept her going, was her writing.

Her best friend Janet, had taken a few of her poems with her to Dallas the day before.  She was an editorial assistant, and constantly assured Julia that she had talent.  She wanted to show them to a few of these poems to her contacts during a conference she had to attend.

The phone rang.  Julia finally answered it on the 10th ring.

“Julia, have I got news for you!  I’ve shown your poems to Bill Murphy from Schuster’s and Brittaney’s…he’s enthusiastic about your work and wants to meet you.”

“You’re kidding?”

“Nope, he wants to sign a contract with you too.  He’ll be coming home with me to meet you, tomorrow.  Come out to get us at the airport.  Our flight is arriving at 4:15. Ok?”

“Oh, I can’t believe it!  Sure I’ll be there, probably at 10:00. I won’t be late!”

“Great!  Bring along that poem you wrote about the mountains last week, and your Haiga album.  You, my dear are going to be published!”

Julia put the phone down in a happy daze. Could this then be paradise.  She sat down at her desk and began to write a poem.

just a point of view
life is sometimes
apathy or paradise

Huitain: Chad 1978

Huitain

From Poetry Forms:  huitain, French verse form consisting of an eight-line stanza with 8 or 10 syllables in each line. The form was written on three rhymes, one of which appeared four times. Typical rhyme schemes wereababbcbc and abbaacac. The huitain was popular in France in the 15th and early 16th centuries with such poets as François Villon and Clément Marot.

@)—>—>—

Huitain

Chad 1978

A long day, seemed that it would never end,

Laying with the children under our bed.

Thinking of those people already dead.
Telling stories: “Kids all’s well.” I pretend.

Listening intently my breath suspended,

When the rain of firey missles began.

Wishing  there existed a God to befriend.

The news:  A Revolution in Iran.

§§§§§

To Be Continued…

Ghazal: Fences of Segregation

Walking down the wooded lane, a fence, man’s separation,
I pondered of our need for a form of segregation.

Myth would have it that God punished disobedient humanity,
Exiled from our birthplace, closed off, in a form of segregation.

Men created ghettos and concentration camps in Europe,
Keeping the holy from the damned, a form of segregation.

South Africa for years created “home lands” by constitution,
Keeping whites “safe” from “Bantu”, brutal, a form of segregation.

Now Bastet observes our modern age and sees that god is profit.
Subtle our enlightened age but still a form of segregation.

@)—>—>—

I tried the Ghazal again…however, it still comes out somber. So be it.  I did however find an interesting site which by clicking HERE you can see an illustrated how to in writing a Ghazal.  I discovered that the repeated phrase or word is called a radif and the last word of the first line that rhymes with the radif is called a qaafiya.  Each couplet is a stand alone poem and there’s no need to have them “tell a story”.  Each couplet has to have the same number of syllables in each line.

Sunday Painting the Town Red: 25 August 2013

I was thinking I wouldn’t get my Sunday in red done today, but then I saw this photo as I was listening to Peter Gabriel’s “Red Rain” et voilà.

The poem is not one of my happy poems though.  I imagine that if the Earth crys red rain it would reflect a deep and desparate passion.

Free Verse

Red Rain

Earth on fire
lost in her desire
to free herself
from pain,
the eternal nights
of fraternal fights,
her tears of despair
cannot cleanse herself
of the blood
that has been shed
in the name
of
God
Country
and
Honor.

This is the original photograph:

rain storm

Free Verse: A Place For Me

there are days
when I wonder
where is that place
made just for me
without
hate and prejudice
a place of love
where I can just be me,,,
my life
looking back
has been good
I shouldn’t complain
I’ve seen the world
I’ve made friends
and lost friends too
but
where ever I’ve gone
since the day I was born
I’ve been
an outsider
adapting to others…
myself on the inside,
on looker.
I smile
showing I’m ready
to be friends
wanting
longing
wondering
will this be my place?

Free Verse inspired by Kate Bush and Peter Gabriel.