Silence: A Woman Passing – Free Forms – January 30, 2016


Oil on Canvas
Arles: February, 1888

Silence: A Woman Passing

silence ..

her eyes look on her now lost dreams
vapour ghosts like missing beings
once bright tokens for the future
now just lonely hollow vessels

silence ..

the heart that beats calls out to you
do you not hear that rhythm true
once quick in happy excitement
now slowly like a funeral

silence ..

the rhythm of a distant drum
sets our pace until we’re done
once the beat was in harmony
now erratic the drum beats on

silence ..

her life is over, her soul is gone
because her days had grown too long
once youth filled her, body and soul
now she’s just a hollow echo

© G.s.k. ‘16


(5) Words: | SILENCE | EYES| HEART | DRUM | LIFE |


DOOR Template Instructions

Written for:
the secret keeper

Morning Haiku and Waka – Senryu/Kyoka – January 9, 2016

Freezing Thoughts

white winter rose
her frozen heart melting
once warmed by the careless sun
who never understood her

winter rose
walking down the streets
under red lanterns


a frozen tap
improvised water-falls
in my basement

Taps looming
it’s that drunken old soldier
humming and weaving


just after dawn
laughing ducks slide on the pond
ice breaking event

© G.s.k. ‘16

TJ’s Household Haiku – Tap
 Carpe Diem #893 Fuyusoubi (winter rose)
 Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie – B&P Shadorma and Beyond


Tan Renga with Basho “this autumn” – May 23, 2015

spring buds

spring buds

this autumn
why getting older is like
a bird into clouds

© Basho (Tr. Jane Reichhold)

Well … I’m just going to look at this hokku I don’t want to have any background info, since I want to pretend I’m actually doing a renga in the old sense of the word, I scratch my head and wonder but in relation to my own here and now, the answering closing lines and new hokku come fairly easily:

this autumn
why getting older is like
a bird into the clouds

© Basho

wings long to find the airways
that lead to gentle spring

let red leaves fall
these grey wings stretch towards
pink cherry blossoms

© G.s.k. ‘15

My idea is that autumn brings on the cold but autumn is also a metaphor of old age, looking at the flocks of birds flying south is like imagining a return to a warmer place avoiding cold winter but it’s also like contemplating a return  to ones youth. This particular concept isn’t at all difficult for me to imagine being 63 years old!  😉

This renga was written thanks to CDHK – “this autumn”

Friday Fictioneers – Sadie Thomas – Prose – March 27, 2015

PHOTO PROMPT ©David Stewart

Image by David Stewart

Um-pa-pa  um-pa-pa!  The band from the village gazebo filled the evening air, already pregnant with jasmine and roses, with joy.

Sitting in her wheel-chair, Sadie Thomas had a far away look.  In fact she was far away and had been for several years, tonight though, her memories had taken her back to that special evening when she’d met her Mark.

Her smile was young and fresh, filling her watery blue eyes with a sparkle that had been missing for so long.  Her daughter seeing her smile, clasped her hands.

“Mark!” she whispered, her daughter wondered who he could have been.

© G.s.k. ‘15


Linked to Friday Fictioneers


Song of Childhood – Quatrain – Red Wolf Poems – December 7, 2014


Do fairies fly in soft lofty shadows
Far above the lost forgotten door,
Where Puff the Magic Dragon passed
With the brother’s Grimm and Anderson?

Old dust brushed frost on my lost toys
There with a forgotten hop-scotch pattern –
Ah, soft as a sigh I see them now,
Waiting for me, in my mind’s eye.

My youthful games come back to me
Hidden in thoughts of hoary glossed frost –
Though autumn fills my mind with musty dust
The song of childhood calls to my soul.

(c) G.s.k. ’14


The Words: fly, dust, song, puff, frost, fairies, soft, door, lost, toy

The Twist:

Part two is the addition of three extra words that are near-rhymes (frost, soft, dust). Part three is mention a child’s game in your poem.

Linked to Red Wolf Poems

Tattered Steps (For My Mother)- Free Verse – July 19, 2014


Stair prompt by Tess Kincade

I walked these stairs a million times
Since I was wed to my own man.
Our children came,  then left the nest,
Then their kids too came into the world.

Clothed in bright deep crimson runners
My feet felt the soft nap and weave.
I loved their beauty and their flare,
‘Twas proud to walk upon those steps.

They were always there, a part of us.
Something we never thought about …
Years added up and took their toll,
Like us they became tattered and old.

Now, my own man, he’s gone too
Taken from me a few years ago
Now its just me and these old stairs,
And our memories of a life well spent.

magpie tales statue stamp 185

Memories of Summer Love – Free Verse – July 19, 2014


The seab_wShe toasted on warm white sands,
In my island land of sea and surf,
‘Til the sun died in the sultry waves,
When she’d come into my waiting arms.

Under stars sparkling like crystal spheres,
We’d make love through the summer night …
Then spent serenely we’d drift apart,
Until the purple morning’s dawn.

But seasons come and then they go …
Autumn leaves fell like crimson tears,
Withered and tired our love too died,
She left my bed and then my land.

Memories fill my wintry days
Now that my years are nearly over,
I think of my brown maiden by the sea
As she toasted on warm white sands.


I toasted on warm white sands
In his island land of sea and surf
When the sun died in the sultry waves
I’d run into his waiting arms.

Our love was strong, or so I thought,
We loved throughout the summer nights.
Spent we’d dream in each others arms
‘Til purple dawn shone upon our bed.

But seasons com and seasons go,
The autumn leaves fell like crimson tears
Our love grew tired and wearied me

Alas, I left his bed and then his land.

Now I, with hoary white hair, think of him …
And the memory of our warm exotic love,
I’d toast the days upon the warm sand
And pass the nights in his strong arms.

Reflections on Betrayal

Betrayal!  What’ve you done to me?
I’ve watched over you, don’t you see!
I’ve fed you, pampered you and more …
Although naughty, sometimes a chore!

We been together since we’ve met,
I’ve always thought we’d win the bet …
We’d show the world just what’s the score
I’ve never thought you’d bring me war.

Age has its own price to pay
Hoary hair grows whiter each day
Now dear body, I know the score …
Youth is something you can’t restore.

Betrayal! What’ve you done to me..
I’ve watched over you, don’t you see!

Betrayal can be many things…here I’m playing with the problems of getting older…I as everyone else at one time or another have felt betrayed by someone or some situation…but at the moment, the only thing that came to mind was this 🙂

Written for: Poetry Prompt # 4: Betrayal – Oloriel’s post for We Drink Because We’re Poets.

The Workaholic – Haibun Thinking # 4


Jules was a workaholic, there was no doubt about that.  He’d go into the office at least a half an hour before anyone else and wouldn’t leave before 8:00.  He often went to the office even during the week ends and holidays. He’d always loved his work and he’d never married.

He’d been with the company for 40 years, and at 65, he was getting ready to go into retirement.  He’d thought a lot about retirement.  Finally, he said to himself, he could relax, he need not worry about his career.

The day came. The company offered him a dinner, and gave him a brand new MacBook Air.  The next morning, he woke-up at dawn as usual, only this time he had nowhere to go.  He stared at the ceiling.  Finally he got up and went for a walk.  Through-out the morning with nothing to do he found that he was bored.  What was he to do with all that endless time he had on his hands he wondered.

He might have ended up like many retirees, with a sinking feeling of being useless and decrepit, if it hadn’t been for his ex-secretary, who’d  gone into retirement a year before him.  She called him at noon and invited him for afternoon tea.  Then she began to involve him in various volunteer projects of which she was a member.  He also began to write short stories about his office adventures and actually sold them.  One day, he asked her to marry him, and she did.  They then began to travel.

sudden life changes
without an elastic mind
dangerous combo


Written for Haibun Thinking!

Kyrielle Sonnet: The couple

The coupleKyrielle Sonnet

The couple

I saw the couple in the park
As my thoughts were roaming, dark
Gray hair, their ancient eyes seemed dim
They’d sat to watch the children swim.

I thought of the seasons passing
My winter clouds here amassing
Yes, old they were but were not grim
They’d sat to watch the children swim.

I’d wallowed in dark self pity…
Sang a durge not a gay ditty
They changed my sad mood with their grin
They’d sat to watch the children swim.

I saw the couple in the park
They’d sat to watch the children swim