The Public Fountain – Kyrielle – April 29, 2016

Water fountain_2_signed

drops of water in this fountain
blow in the wind now forgotten
no one can hear them any more
and none can see the river roar

days and nights pass, tumbling by
(even the fountain will grow dry)
all some day will pass through that door
where none can see the river roar

human endeavours, often fine
fall to decay as they decline
then war blossoms from hates of yore
’cause none can see the river roar

neglected fountain by the road
once a marvel – fresh water flowed
quenching the thirst of rich and poor
but now, none see the river roar

© G.s.k. ‘16

“It seems to me what is called for is an exquisite balance between two conflicting needs: the most skeptical scrutiny of all hypotheses that are served up to us and at the same time a great openness to new ideas.  

Openness is an overarching concept or philosophy that is characterized by an emphasis on transparency and free, unrestricted access to knowledge and information, as well as collaborative or cooperative management and decision-making rather than a central authority. Openness can be said to be the opposite of secrecy.

Poets United – Poets United Midweek Motif ~ Open / Openness

The War Was Over – Free Verse Wordleing – April 18, 2016

How could I have forgotten
The miles of old whining telegraph wires
That stretched across the land
Sending good news and bad –
Of course that’s all gone now,
Down the worm-hole of time –
We forget what the world was like back then…

I walked down a lane plastered
With red, white and blue flags –
People like ants applauded and threw confetti
I wore my green jeans and matching shoes
(My first fashion collection was
Based upon this memory
— Remember …
The green feathers in Martha’s hair?)
Now we could rest – after the sight
Of the shell-shocked soldiers with their
Loose minds and knife creased pants.
The war was over ...

While we were dining, father spoke of the war.
(That night
I dreamt of Japanese soldiers rattling

Bolted doors and bayonetting wounded soldiers,
The sight roiled my stomach but I couldn’t wake-up
And I ran afraid as the fronds hit my face –
It was something I wanted to forget)
Something I’ll never forget –
He told us that he was in the jungle
Running lost and scared –
And heard the whining of mosquitoes
Like telegraph lines
Back home,
They used to cross the land.

© G.s.k. ‘16
Note: This is a poem about memories … most of the memories aren’t my own actually, but things I remember hearing other people say … except for the dream … I had that dream and it was very vivid,  when I was 5 years old, after my father told us about his war experience in the Philippines, where we’d just come to live. What has always intrigued me was the clarity of the dream … I’d never seen Japanese soldiers nor how they were dressed … but I remember seeing them in my dream and remembering their uniforms – which I only saw a few years later in a film.

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NaPoWriMo: Day 17 Smorgasbord Sunday

Sunday's Whirligig - Whirligig 44

Sunday’s Whirligig – Whirligig #55

 

Sunday’s Whirligig: Wordle #55
The Sunday Whirligig

green, blue, red, shoes, loose, pants,
dining, ants, good, news, miles, whining

 

 

 

Wordle 246

Wordle 247

 

The Sunday Whirl: Wordle #247
The Sunday Whirl

forget, stretch, rest, left, hole, lost,
sight, first, shell, feathers, rattle, old

NaPoWriMo: Day 14 – Late – April 15, 2016

spring flowers

in the morning of time
the child arose smiling
birds sang in the trees

walking down the path
as each new spring day begins
the perfume is sweet

these silver dew drops
twinkle under the new sun
life’s precious gems

why rock the old cradle
certainly no child lies here
except in memory

listen to these notes:
they are the keys of my soul
or so you tell me
although written long ago
for a moon long forgotten

© G.s.k. ‘16

 

1sojournal – NaPoWriMo: Day 14 – Words: child, walk, silver, cradle, keys, moon

I didn’t write on my blog at all yesterday and so this is a day late.

A to Z Challenge – The letter M – April 15, 2016

A monumental moment
Means meeting mice and men
Whilst mincing in the market place
Maybe marvelling at melons
Mellowly matured …
March marching with the March-hare’s
Marvellous maiden aunt
Maevous Mabel
Like a marionette from a matrix.
Ah yes,
Monumental moments
Monstrously magnetic moments
Like Mao’s March in China
Mages going to Memphis
Mork meeting Mindy and more,
Mommy making muffins …
My my … to marvel is more that meets the eye
Meet me inside the mirror
I’ll be a mysterious mummer
or maybe merry Marc’harit
You be the mystic monk
or maybe Merlin’s Mordred …
Moving through the mirror
We’ll avoid mediocrity
Perhaps making our own monumental moment
a million miles from morning.

© G.s.k. ‘16

Monumental Moments

Sunday Whirl and NaPoWriMo – Haiku and Tanka – April 10, 2016

246

wintry last stands
where talk ends and hope is born
rain drips on blossoms

the river flows
tales under the surface
call to us
concentric circle shimmers
as a trout eat mosquitoes.

© G.s.k. ‘16

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NaPoWriMo: Day 10 – Smorgasbord Sunday

NaPoWriMo – Badriomaku – April 8, 2016

Old cemetary

In Passing

feelings
receding facts
lost old horizons
death
removed the fever
of my feelings
now I am – numb.

© G.s.k. ‘16

Six months have passed since my husband died in a fatal accident.  The strange thing about sudden death is that it leaves you feeling that everything is some sort of joke.  That you’ll turn around and your loved one will be there giggling at you for having been so silly to fall for it.  Only that never happens.

Life continues in its everyday normalcy leaving things hanging like a broken spider web floating in the wind.  Unresolved problems, unresolved actions.  Sometimes out of the blue one of those problems will pop out … and you fall into a memory hole.  Like today, when the new furnace went on the blink again.  Ciao, Bastet.

§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§

Words:  feelings, facts, receding, horizon, fever, numb

With a syllable count of 2-3-5-1-5-4-5, the Hungarian Badriomaku is interesting in that it gives you a structure that doesn’t fit any preconceived ideas.

I was introduced to this form by Graeme. Thanks, Graeme!

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1sojournal – NaPoWriMo: Day 7

 

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

TJ’s Household Haiku Challenge – Bucket – January 31, 2016

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

no milk nor water
it’s full of old memories
old wooden bucket

© G.s.k. ‘16

In the summer, with my son I go medieval reenacting.  We dress up in our authentic clothing (some of which I’ve sown myself according to historical patterns) – and camp out in different areas of Veneto.  The above photo came from our Sluderno camp in 2014 … that’s where we keep the kitchen goods.  The bucket actually does hold water by the way …

La vie est trop courte pour boire du mauvais vin – TJ’s Household Haiku Challenge – Bucket

The Great Buddha – Haiku – January 22, 2016

new fallen snow
whitens the head
of the Great Buddha

© G.s.k. ‘16

Carpe Diem Special #193 Revise That Haiku … a trip along memory lane

Daibutsu no katahada no yuki toki ni keri

the snow has melted
on one shoulder
of the Great Buddha
 


© Shiki

 

As you all (maybe) know in this special feature the goal was to revise the given haiku and write/compose a new one. Not an easy task and it needs some courage to revise a haiku by one of the greatest five haiku-poets ever (Basho, Chiyo-Ni, Buson, Issa and Shiki), but … well it challenges you to look in a different way to the classical haiku.