Goody good blah blah blahs – Kyoka/Senryu/Shadorma – January 8, 2016

calendar poets
penning New Year platitudes
gotta eat – I know
but, is that a good reason
to waste all of those trees?

calendar pulchritude
with tepid affirmations
each season painted
in arrhythmic platitudes
[sad punitive devices]

but first …

swallow your pill
then write aquamarine lies
in cursive caps

oh my lands …
do they never tire
of cute dogs
and kittens
don’t forget yoga – om y’all!
fuzzy warm deceits

© G.s.k. ‘16

1.Punitive 2. Tepid 3. Calendar 4. Season 5. Sad 6. Arrhythmic (any disturbance in the rhythm of the heartbeat.7. Cursive 8. Tomorrow 9. Swallow 10. Aquamarine 11. Affirmation 12. Pulchritude (physical beauty; comeliness.)

Just a Note – January 3, 2016

Bridge

Hello World!

So, yesterday this blog celebrated its third anniversary and I look back over the three years since I began blogging seriously reflecting on what I want to do when I grow up.

Since the day I opened this blog, I also opened four other blogs, two on WordPress and two on Blogger, well actually one of the blogs on Blogger opened in 2009 but I only began writing on it in 2014, so I consider it new.  I’ve been concentrating all my work here over the past months but I think that I will begin to transfer some of my work over to them and will put links on my widgets to get to them more easily.

Their names are: Through the Eye of Bastet : It is dedicated to my photographic experiments.  This year I will be buying myself a new camera and will begin to do photographic blogs again.  The second is Walking with Sekhmet, this will be the blog that I will use for short stories and other prose works, except for haibun.  My historical Blogger site is called Bastet’s Waka Library.  I Blogged there from June 2014 until February 2, 2015 writing only haiku and waka mostly in response to Carpe Diem Haiku Kai and Haiku Horizon prompts and am considering returning there in the future for these posts.  The last blog is called On the Empty Road, and it is empty, basically because I have to log into another account to write there.

Now diversifying means that I’ll have to do some planning and changing. Some might have noticed that last year I began to put up pages on the header of this blog.  That is because I’m slowly removing all the older posts, editing them and then archiving them as category pages.  This is Bastet and Sekhmet’s Library and therefore, all my blogging work will be available here (except haiku) even if one has to wade through it on pages.  This is a huge job though because I’ve been writing anywhere from two to six or seven posts a day for three years.  So it’ll be a slow go.  With every post I put to a page it will disappear from the main blog.

I will also be publishing this year.  Now this isn’t a resolution, it’s a necessity. The whole point of blogging in the beginning was to leave something behind to remember me by, mostly for my family, now for the friends who may wish to remember me once I’m gone.  Death struck very close to home, as many of you know and that event has pressed upon my mind that anything can happen at any moment.  I’ve been fearful of publishing, it’s not easy for me to learn all the programs and things I need to know to get the job done but as my friend Elena would say we have to overcome our fear to be the best person we can be (my liberal translation).  So, I’ll have to study up on how to get those programs to work best for me.  Already, thanks to Chèvrefeuille at Carpe Diem Haiku Kai, I published a thirty page book of waka (Japanese poetry)  the lay-out work was done by my son whom I sure will help out, but I know he has a lot on his plate and will need to go this more or less alone.

I discovered over the years that I’m a haiku/waka poet.  I can and do write other poetic forms and I can and do write prose.  One of the forms I love is haiga (haiku with a drawing or photograph) … so in February to celebrate my 64th birthday I will hold a month of haiga and invite those interested in joining me in this month-long celebration to do so.  I will hold it here but will also post on Through the Eye of Bastet since that is my photography blog.

Ok … this is my game plan for the next few months of 2016.  I’m actually a terrible organizer so this is enough to begin with and maybe actually too much, we’ll see.

I’d like to thank all you who follow this post for your enthusiastic support.  You’ve kept me going through thick and then, though you might not have realized it.  One of my most faithful readers is a man called Harbin 77 who has passed by every day for the last three years … a special thanks goes to him.

Bastet

 

 

The Party – Short Story – January 2, 2016

ginestra flowers

Walking into the room shaking snow off the cherry red coat she was wearing, she looked around the feeling a little out of place.  At that moment she heard her name being called from across the room and went towards the sound like a lost soul in the desert goes towards water.

“Ah Virginia, how nice to see you, but dear!  Why don’t you take off your coat! Here, let me help you.” a tall pleasant woman said doing just that. “Now, let’s get you a drink!” the woman said as she handed the coat to a nondescript greying gentleman of about seventy.

Virginia took the drink her friend had offered and sipping it let her eyes roam around the room.  The chatter of the people reminded her of the old rusty springs of her Grandmother’s double bed.  Odd she thought, her Grandmother had passed away forty years before.  People came up to her and they greeted and kissed her.  They exchanged what is commonly called small talk and eventually drifted away.

“How have you been doing …”

“Isn’t that just terrible news about Anna and Mario …”

“Seems the government is going to fall again …”

Small talk for a small world she thought. After a few moments she found herself standing alone in the room and somehow felt more comfortable.

Her mind wandered and she imagined herself walking again in the woodlands of Tuscany among the trees of the Maremma. It was 1987 when she’d met Gaitano and they’d gone for the first of their many walks in those woods.  The yellow ginestra flowers were in bloom then, he’d always loved those bright broom flowers. He’d pointed out the different kinds of bird’s nests to her; she’d been impressed by one huge nest that had been made in the bough of a large tree, she couldn’t seem to remember now what bird that had been.

She was pulled out of her thoughts when another guest entered the room.  A buxom woman of around sixty with a carrying voice. They’d once been close friends a few years back, but she’d gone off to America and they’d lost track of each other as sometimes happens.  As soon as she had hung her coat up she made a bee-line for Virginia.

“Ah, Virginia my dear!  What a sight for sore eyes.  I’m just so very  happy to be back home!” she said as she kissed Virginia on both cheeks, “I’ve had a really harrowing time out in the sticks of North America, I can’t wait to tell you all about it.  But first, tell me my dear, where is Gaitano that adorable husband of yours?”

A sudden hush fell on the room and even the usually self-confident woman felt the collective embarrassment and she realized that something was off.

This happened more rarely now that he’d been dead for nearly three months, but still, sometimes it did happen but it no longer bothered Virginia like it had done.

“Oh my dear Carla, you haven’t heard.  He passed away last autumn. We scattered his ashes in the Maremma.” Virginia replied.

Carla with tears in her eyes embraced her friend.

© G.s.k. ‘16

(This is a work of pure fiction based on parties I’ve been to in my youth. Bastet)

hung, cherry, wearing, bloom, snow, springs, bough, trees, again, roam, woodlands, seventy

Golden Willow – Haiku – December 29, 2015

Golden Willow

Golden Willow

December morning
in splendid golden glory
the willow sways

now alone
she lost her companion
to a summer squall*

with each passing day
she loses her golden chiome
the willow ages **

*Fallen Willow Jisei

**Willow Weep

Today is the last episode dedicated to my haiku and waka on Carpe Diem Haiku Kai.  I have just written a brief note to Chèvrefeuille thanking him for this opportunity, but above all, thanking him for showing my poetry to myself.

I rarely re-read my poetry or in fact anything I write.  I always promise myself that I will wade through my archives and perhaps put together a book or two but never quite find the time to do so.  I don’t know what holds me back except perhaps a lack of confidence in my writing.

This special month and my book which Chèvrefeuille published have been such a wonderful experience for me.  I wish to thank him and all of you who have read and enjoyed my work for your constant encouragement.

this hidden path
draped in honeysuckle
I hear nature sing
sweet is the blackbird’s song
as spring begins to bloom

 © G.s.k. ‘15

Carpe Diem Special #189 Georgia’s 5th strolling yesterday (tanka)

strolling yesterday
astonished by the pine trees.
they seemed to copy
the heavy rain laden skies
imitating it’s wet lay.

© Georgia (May 2013)

a new day rises –
the weeping willow on the piazza
a birds’ gathering

weeping willow
in the autumn sunlight
a golden tree

under the willow
on the city’s graveyard
weeping silhouette

© Chèvrefeuille

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

Narrow Road (16) – Haiku – December 28, 2015

shadow

shadow

writing something
sentiments and shadows
in this empty house

through my window
the moon shines clearly
a friendly face

no harvest moon
this Christmas moon still shines
on snow-less valleys

loneliness
the ducks laughed with us
only yesterday

© G.s.k. 15

Carpe Diem #886 the journey continues: writing something, the moon clear, harvest moon, loneliness

writing something
pulling apart the fan
missing someone

© Basho (Tr. Jane Reichhold)

the moon clear
on sand carried over here
by a saint


© Basho (Tr. Jane Reichhold)

 Harvest moon
weather in the northern areas
is unsettled


© Basho (Tr. Jane Reichhold)

loneliness
clarity is only out done
by an autumn beach


© Basho (Tr. Jane Reichhold)

dripping wet moon
the Water Bearer spills
water from the bowl


© Chèvrefeuille

Morning Haiku and Waka – Winter Approaches – December 6, 2015

Christmas 2010_2

in the morning light
frost sparkles on the roof-tops
winter silence

a barking dog
sound drifting on the chilled wind
this frosted morn

frozen autumn leaves
there is a different sound
walking in the park

Christmas lights
line the streets and homes
carols on the wind
speak of good kings and shepherds
smell the chestnuts roasting

© G.s.k. ‘15

Someone recently asked me what I meant by “waka”.  Waka, historically was the word used to distinguish the classical poetry written in Japanese in place of kanshi or Classical Chinese.  It was swiftly extended to all Japanese poetry … later it was used more and more often to designate the tanka … which was a hokku with a two-line ending of 7-7 syllables (and also the five line ending of a choka).

I use it to mean any of the many classical poetic forms, now mostly forgotten, such as the choka, sedoka, katauta (etc.) and of course tanka – but I also think of kyoka and senryu as waka, though the Japanese do not consider these last two as proper poetry forms at all being considered spurious haiku or tanka as well as vulgar or too mundane.

Morning Haiku and Waka – Autumn Reflections – December 5, 2015

foggy courtyard birch

the last days of fall
just a single yellow leaf 
in gathering fog

the last days of fall
coloured leaves cover the ground
grey foggy mornings

just a single yellow leaf
clings to the birch
in dawn’s early light

in gathering fog
harbingers of winter call
gathering silence

© G.s.k. ‘15

Carpe Diem Special #185 Georgia’s first “Autumn Reflections” (Troiku)

I’m honoured to be hosted this month on Carpe Diem Special with my haiku and waka, thanks to my haiku for the autumn kukai “Peace of Mind” which won first place in October.  First prize is the publication of an e-book of verse (and a weekly presentation of my work throughout the month of December).

I’ve spent many days this month composing poetry and reflections on inner peace for the book which will shortly be published and it has been a cathartic experience coming as it did upon a particularly difficult moment of my life.

When Chèvrefeuille asked me if I preferred any particular poem to be used this month I replied that I didn’t and would be pleased if he chose what to show, that way it would be a surprise for me.  I write many poems … and rarely re-read those poems.  Reading today’s post and Chèvrefeuille’s choice therefore, was like reading a troiku written by someone else.  I was surprised.

   autumn reflections
as I cross the sun warmed bridge
geese fly south

autumn reflections
old man contemplates winter
under the hot sun

as I cross the sun warmed bridge
ducks laugh downstream
– diving for trout

geese fly south
the noisy swallows have gone
but the blackbird sings

© Georgia

Just a Note … December 1, 2015

autumn tree

Hello Everyone!

Yesterday I didn’t post and will be a little late posting today since I’m preparing an e-book for Chèvrefueille’s Publications .. I think I wrote somewhere that my haiku:

rain drips
off old bamboo wind-chimes
serenity

won first prize for the Carpe Diem Haiku Kai – October Kukai, and that prize is publication of an e-book of my work and presentation of my work on CDHK during the month of December.  I was going to delve into my archives of published haiku and waka, but as I began to write the first lines in the book, I changed my mind and decided to write a new collection of haiku and waka for the book.

Now I’ve finished the first draft …  Francesco Neri who writes on Word Press under the pen-name of  Sisko Black on VETRINA MENTALE D’EMILIO DEI NERI  has generously offered to do the lay-out of the book and modify one of my photos for the cover.

This experience has given me a great amount of energy, though at times it’s kept me off my blog. I’ve decided to go on now and finally publish some of my work as self-published e-books unless of course a publisher would like to step in ( 😉 ) and I’m hoping to find a way to hard copy at least one booklet this year.  Fingers crossed.

Thank you all for dropping by.

Ciao,  Bastet (Georgia Koch)

Old Man and Two Ducks – Fun Poem – November 28, 2015

ducks in a pond

Crossing a bridge with his haversack
Slung across his back, the old man went
Looking for something, he knew not what
Perhaps an adventure, or maybe not

Two ducks in the pond went quack, quack – back
And forth, with their squawking laugh – [see?]
He stopped then sat feeling sort of piqued –
Wondering what the joke was all about.

“Them louts, they knows a story or two!”
Said the old man to the world at large…
A jogger passing in boutique togs
Stumbled in surprise to hear him speak.

“I don’t know you sir … why address me!
Why pass around gossip my good man?”
Then from the pond came a raucous laugh
The jogger looked aghast then off he ran …

Walking down the path an old man went
With his backpack flung across his back
Looking for something, he knew not what
Perhaps an adventure – or maybe not.

© G.s.k. ‘15

My little story is based on the ducks we have at Riva del Garda …they don’t go quack quack at all – they laugh and what a laugh. For me today the fun was having had no idea whatever of what I was going to come up with when I began to write the poem.

I wrote this for  Miz Quickly’s November 28 Prompt … which alas, I came upon  late, since she has put up a daily prompt for all of November.  must say that it was a lot of fun and that it is one of the most interesting prompts that I’ve ever come across … Many thanks Miz Quickly!