In This Silent Moment – Sestet – December 28, 2015

Screen Door

In this silent moment look,
Cloy night seems to draw up close
And dark fills this sun-filled room,
A fell chill wind falls on me
And is joined with a stream of tears,
In this safe place I call home.

How to deal with this sadness
With neither name nor object?
Try as I might to connect
With my inner light and peace
They escape me in my need,
Years of discipline are just mist.

I’m my own a prisoner,
What sentence could be more cruel?
No, no yon fair ghost be gone…
There is a lark somewhere singing
So wiping my eyes, I’ll write
Not of dark but of love and life.

In this silent moment, look,
Cloy night recedes for a while
And as the sun sets there’s light,
Warmth fills my heart for I know
That tears are like a spring rain
In this safe place I call home.

Sadness and joy are close kin,
Like dark night and bright day,
They have no name nor object
They are one of the same truth
The reality of living.
The yin and yang of being.

I am not a prisoner,
No sentence has been passed,
For now yon ghost is my friend
And yes, a lark sings somewhere
When I wiped my eyes and wrote
Not of dark but of love and life.

© G.s.k. 15

Wordle 231

Wordle 231

231

OctPoWriMo 11 – Chained Shadorma – October 11, 2015

Sunset_2_small

in the sky
splashes golden fire
majestic
resplendent
his spectacular adieus
illuminating

slamming doors
unnatural calm
deafening
echoing
observing peach splattered skies
autumn evening

breath-taking
rare autumn sunset
colourful
delightful
peach stains run across the sky
in melancholy

© G.s.k. ‘15

 

A Bell at Sunset – Tanka – May 17, 2015

silence
yet the birds are chaotic
in the courtyard

this early dawn though bright
is shaded in sadness

© G.sk. ‘15

§§§§

bell at sunset
also was not heard
a spring evening

© Basho (trans. Jane Reichhold)

no bell ringing
what do the villagers do
on a spring evening

© Basho (trans. Jane Reichhold)

Written for Carpe Diem Haiku Kai – A Bell At Sunset

Haiga Festival – Melancholy – March 19, 2015

Willow Haiga 19

 

sun sets on the lake
the willow weeps her tears
another day gone

© G.s.k. ‘15

I wrote this haiku/haiga several days ago – at first it was intended for ‘weeping willow’, but it seemed so suitable for ‘melancholy’ that I changed my mind .. this is a variation that came to mind as I was typing this:

sunset on the lake
winter willow weeps her tears
as day passes

This post is linked to Carp Diem Haiku Kai’s Haiga Festival for Melancholy

Morning Haiku and Waka – January 11, 2015

foggy lake_small

the cockerel crow
pierces through the ghostly mist
morning bells
muffled like my inner song
ring melancholy tones

§

billowing fog
envelopes the lake and trees
silent ducks swim

§

Mirage Choka – a memory

in winter’s depth
cold fog blankets Mantova
the cold penetrates
coming through the walls like ghosts
like old sadness
sitting at the wobbly desk
my mind wanders
to the warmth of Africa
remembering heat
I escape the here and now
for a mirage of summer

© G.s.k. ‘15

That Gull’s Flyin’ Low – Villanelle – October 16, 2014

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAThat gull’s flyin’ low, into the east
His longing call woke me up at dawn
On this special day, when I should feast —

Day’s not even born, though light’s increased
And already I’m feelin’ like I’m just his pawn,
That gull’s flyin’ low, into the east.

Inside somethin’s gnawing at me like a beast
Makin’ me feel like I should be movin’ on …
On, this special day, when I should feast …

If I followed that gull, I’d find release …
Wonder if he’d even ask why I’d gone
That gull’s flyin’ low, into the east –

Guess I’m stayin’ one more day at least
I’ll just keep my peace and carry on
That gull’s flyin’ low into the east
On this special day, when I should feast.

(c) G.s.k. ’14

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A villanelle is an ancient Italian pastoral poem, probably originally from Sicily from around the 16th century.  French poets (and then English poets) picked it up in the 18th and 19th century but it never really made its splash until the 20th century when Dylan Thomas and others began to use the form.

The poem is composed of four tercets and then an ending closing stanza of four lines. The first and last refrains are repeated alternatively in the second, third and fourth tercet and then once again in the last stanza.  The first lines of the second through the fourth tercets and the beginning of the closing stanza must rhyme with the refrains … the second lines all throughout the poem rhyme with themselves … complicated to explain but easy to write, believe me … here’s the poem again with color codes to show you how the refrains and rhymes work … there is no special meter or syllable count requirement to the poem btw.

§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§ù

That gull’s flyin’ low, into the east
His longing call woke me up at dawn
On this special day, when I should feast —

Day’s not even born, though light’s increased
And already I’m feelin’ like I’m just his pawn,
That gull’s flyin’ low, into the east.

Inside somethin’s gnawing at me like a beast
Makin’ me feel like I should be movin’ on
On, this special day, when I should feast …

If I followed that gull, I’d find release
Wonder if he’d even ask why I’d gone
That gull’s flyin’ low, into the east –

Guess I’m stayin’ one more day at least
I’ll just keep my peace and carry on
That gull’s flyin’ low into the east
On this special day, when I should feast.

For other examples of the villanelle go to visit Poetry Soup!

014d1-octpowrimobadge2

 

 

Dawn Thoughts – July 30, 2014

Blue Morning

Blue Morning

Another rainy morning …
How blue this summer’s been …
Wondering if I’ll see another,
Wondering if I care.
This summer’s been so tragic
More bombs, more deaths, more war
I think the Earth is crying
She’s seen so much, so farl
Rain like tear drops fall.

In this year of still more tragedy,
My sixty-second summer
My feelings seem reflected
In this constant rain that falls …
Of course I know that’s silly,
The Earth is a place of woe,
From the fight of micro organisms
Throughout nature there’s just war.

I guess I’m just so sad
To think that maybe we can
Go outside of human nature
And be more than what we are.
Melancholy feelings …
A passing moment still…
Wondering when I’ll move on,
To a happier attitude.

§§§§§§§

Siddhartha Gautama, when he was born, was visited by a great seer who told his parents that he was destined to be a great king or a great mystic prophet.   Of course his father wanted him to be a great king, like himself, so he secluded his son from the world and showed him only beauty, opulence and happiness, never allowing his son to leave the inner court of his palace.

One day though when he was of a certain age, and indeed already with a wife and son, he persuaded his father to let him ride through the village to see the kingdom, he would some day rule, outside the palace walls.  His father agreed but also secretly decreed that no old, sick or poor people were to be on the main street when his son passed through on horse back.

One old man hid near the corner of the main street, because he wanted to see the young prince and the guards failed to see him.  When Siddhartha passed he saw him and asked his friend: “What is that strange creature?” pointing out the old man.

His friend laughed and said: “That isn’t a strange creature, that’s only a very old man.  We will all become like that, unless of course we die young.”

Siddhartha was confused, he’d never seen such a decrepit human being … and what did his friend mean, die.

“What is it to die?” asked Siddhartha.  And his friend told him about death: “And you can die from accident, or sickness.  Death is always with us!” his friend told him.

Siddhartha wanted to see the truth, so he pulled his horse out off the main street and went into the village.  He saw poverty, misery, violence and he saw the very sick and very old and he saw those who had died being cremated.

Siddhartha’s heart was heavy.  He who had everything knew that someday he, like everyone would lose everything.  So during the night, he loved his wife for the last time, kissed his son and gave his favorite horse to his best friend, then leaving the palace, exchanged his rich clothing with the first poor man he saw on the street and went into the world to discover how to defeat death.

Season of Sadness: Gary Kyrielle Sonnet

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERASeason of Sadness

sadness:
laments,
season’s
pass-time!

winter
browns out
people
daily.

depress,
our souls
these dark
long hours!

leaving
only
blacked-out
windows.

season’s
pass-time.

(Thanks dearest Caddo for reminding me of this form this morning!)

Mag 196 – Kyrielle Sonnet: Black Angel

Mag 196

wings 5

Kyrielle Sonnet (variation 6 syllables)

Black Angel

Dark angel of the night
Black wings ready for flight,
Temptress, lady of sleep…
Come now my heart to reap!

I dream, so see her face,
Lovely and full of grace.
Yet tears I’ll surely weep.
My heart is hers to keep.

Alas, sad cold morning!
You came without warning!
I long to be asleep…
For need of her is deep.

Dark angel of the night
My heart is hers to keep.

magpie tales statue stamp 185

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