Even Its Sound (Haiku)

Originally posted on Blog It or Lose It!:

windblown leaf leaf on sidewalk

even its sound   
drifting away –   
windblown leaf      

◊     

Linked to Carpe Diem Haiku Kai, where Shiba Sonome provides our inspiration for today (longing). 

Here is Shiba Sonome’s haiku …

longing for someone
I sit by the gate and draw
eyebrows on a melon

There is loneliness and longing – but also some humor, no?

Here is a haiku by her mentor Basho…

after the storm
only the melons
don’t remember

… and one by Yozakura (which I especially like):

feeling alone
lost in the woods around Edo –
just the autumn wind

And finally, a haiku by our host Chèvrefeuille:

in front of the fireplace
an empty bottle and broken wine glasses
after the quarrel

Blue Dragonfly. Graphics Fairy.

Blue Dragonfly. Graphics Fairy.

For this post I also *tried* to use what we learned in a “Just Read” featured article at Carpe Diem:  Jim Kacian’s…

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Categories: Opinion | 3 Comments

दीपावली की हार्दिक शुभकामनाएं!

https://medium.com/from-my-forest/happy-diwali-7fe4e61a1abc

Categories: Celebration, Diwali | Leave a comment

The Writer – Haibun – October 19, 2014

Originally posted on Bastet and Sekhmet's Library:

The best author will be the one who is ashamed to become a writer.
Friedrich Nietzsche

Writing from nine to five … trying to get the reports out before the deadline chopped off the utility of their existence.  Statistics, meetings, growth charts all to be compressed into 10 pages.  Conclusions to then be discussed to be re-elaborated and rewritten.  Day after day, year after year.

She’d wanted to be a writer.  She took creative writing courses in High School, majored in Modern English Literature in College.  She read poetry and was part of a poetry club. Then,  she’d become the editor of the school newspaper and she took a journalism course, even a writer has to eat.  She’d lost the way … and the wonderful poems and books she was to author, became stale reports.

She stopped typing as this thought screamed through her mind:  ‘Is this to…

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Little Red Journal

Originally posted on Girlgoyle. Banished.:

10 18 2014 adapted birches 1

Her obsession with writing started in her teenage years. 

It was harmless stuff, really – rambling pages that could be condensed into seven words:  “my life sucks and I’m pretty sad”.  Then it progressed to laments for her dark-eyed teacher crush – to cheesy rhymes for the idiot who broke her heart – to guilt-laden words for the red-haired boy whose heart she’d broken. 

a little red journal
full of baby steps –
cooing

One day she felt brave and shared a love-sick confessional with her ditzy friend – who giggled.

Rookie mistake.

From that point on, her writing followed self-imposed rules.  Be cryptic.  Be symbolic.  Bury yourself at the bottom-most layer – even in your diary – just in case.

Oddly, the rules didn’t clip her wings:  the rules made her freer.   

And her writing bled.

in bitter words
a realization:
sometimes freedom hurts

The friend who read…

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Ligo Haibun Challenge Link-Up

http://www.gunns-cabinfever.pw/l298go/ligo-haibun-quote-prompt-week1#.VEF-tWeSxAU

Categories: Haibun, Haiku, Information, Memories, Mysteries, Opinion, Philosophy, Writing | Leave a comment

Directionless Haiku

autumn destruction                                                                                                              senseless selfish bitterness                                                                                                             we have not advanced

Categories: Haiku | Tags: , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Carpe Diem Haiku – fireworks

Originally posted on Björn Rudbergs writings:


Kobane’s sky –
not fireworks exploding
in mortar’s song
the world’s observing
our unified defeat

Image source

Image source


I don’t know if you can be political in a tanka. But at least it’s worth a try. Linked to Carpe Diem

October 12, 2014

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Turkish government deal with ISIS

Originally posted on Dear Kitty. Some blog:

This video is about anger in the Turkish government because US Vice President Biden mentioned their connections to ISIS.

When United States Vice President Joseph Biden spoke about links between the Turkish government and ISIS terrorism, he did not commit a ‘gaffe’, whatever establishment media pundits say. For one moment, rare for establishment politicians, Biden told the truth.

From daily The Morning Star in Britain:

British prisoners handed to Isis

Prisoner Swap: Two British extremists were among dozens of prisoners handed back to Islamic State by the Turkish government in exchange for the release of diplomats, it was reported yesterday.

The Times newspaper claims Shabazz Suleman, 18, from Buckinghamshire, and another 26-year-old Briton are among as many as 180 fighters traded with Isis to secure the release of Turkish consular staff.

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It’s Raining Today

dark-clouds-valley

 r                     a                     i                     n                     r                a                  i                n                                  a                     i                      n                    r                     a                  i                             r         r                                        i                  n                     r                a                  i               n             r        a               i             r                     a                     i                        n                     r                a               i           n            r                     a                     i                         n                     r                a                  i                    r                     a                     i                     n                     r                a                  i                  r                     a                     i                       n                     r                a                i          n                 r                   a                 i                    r                     a                     i                     n                     r                a                  i                n                                  a                     i                      n                    r                     a                  i               r             a                                    i                  n                     r                a                  i               n             r        a               i                                  a                     i                        n                     r                a               i           n            r            a                     a                     i                         n                     r                a                  i                    r              a                     i                     n                     r                a                  i                  r                     a                     i                       n                     r                a                i          n                 r                   a                 i              n        r                     a                     i                     n                     r                a                  i                n                                  a                     i                      n                    r                     a                  i                       n            r                                        i                  n                     r                a                  i               n             r        a               i             r                     a                     i                        n                     r                a               i           n            r                     a                     i                         n                     r                a                  i                    r                    a                     i                     n                     r                a                  i                  r                     a                     i                       n                     r                a                i          n                 r       puddle                                    puddle        puddle              puddle             puddle puddle                  puddle  puddle  puddle      puddle         puddle     puddle   puddle      puddle

Categories: Verse | Tags: , , , , , , | 2 Comments

Sometimes

sometimes

only, maybe, every

second second

I think of how

she

u   s   e   d   t   o   p   l   a   y   t   h   e   p   i   a   n   o

nude

w

                  i

t

                                 h

o

        n

e

                    f

i

                                                       n

g

                                    e

r,

                                                   n

o

                                   t

e

by

n

                                                                    o

                                                                t

                                                                                  e           

as the sun

        os

r                                   e

she                             looked

beautiful.

Categories: Verse | Tags: , , , , | 38 Comments

Beauty – (for dverse)

Beauty

is an

airplane

in raindrops of time

Eyes that bewitch, dreamcatcher eyes with multicoloured stories inside

gina

A flower of a smile reaching deep

A memory of  fish and chips trees wrapped in newspaper leaves 

The curves in the sand dunes

the waves when you bathe

And your coffee on my lips, when you walk away again

For beauty is the sky, the goodbye, the flame in a story we let melt.

¤
¤
¤
¤
¤
¤

Categories: Verse | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , | 13 Comments

Carpe Diem Haiku – Kissing

 

kiss from black widow
jungle begins to spin
-beautiful sky

 

Visit my main blog http://gypsy-in-you.blogspot.fi/

 

Categories: Carpe Diem Haiku | Tags: , , , | 5 Comments

Magpie Tales: Story from a Bottle

lips

lips like that won’t shatter glass
lips like that will get stuck to your ass
slipping and sliding down a mine
tumbling and wondering if you’ll stop this time
serve me pennies serve me pills
serve me a manner of different ills
hide me safely in the dark
cushion me with your glossy smile
a luxuriant version of a holy kiss

but what
I’ve really come to say
is as from today
your childhood’s closed
all your memories
will be locked up
tiny capsules
melting on my tongue
a devil’s brew never to return
so you wasted the most precious in you
the freshest, flashest, the best of you
and your lips will never shatter the glass
and all the bottles are still there
and the pills with no name
hidden in your underwear

of all things to lose
and remember of none
youth seems the one
that hurts the most
for devil you came
in such a good disguise
with your enchanting
erotic timeless
smooth
angelic
s m i l e

 

magpie tales statue stamp 185

Categories: Verse | Tags: , , , , | 12 Comments

Carpe Diem Haiku, Helpful (Mongolian Mythology … in a way)

 

“I will teach you all my secrets, all my wisdom I will give to you. I will teach you Tengriism and shamanism.”

 

watch the eagle
shaman-
”be”

EagleWoman

 

 

 

Categories: Carpe Diem Haiku | Tags: , | 5 Comments

Friday Fictioneers 100W – A Last Glance

copyright-erin-leary-2

He observed the frontier; his frontier, with scanning eyes, tired gloves holding the reins, but a heart still burning a fire of pride. With his back arched straight, muscles taut, he turned his horse gently. Just then he thought he heard a sound, and hand on saddle, twisted and glanced across into the mist. Not a troublesome sound. Not a clearly definable sound, more of a ‘twang!’ and a slight ‘woosh!’ And only once, no more. He relaxed. The arrow sped across the prairie, grass blades neatly carved in split seconds by glinting tip, before thudding, hard, into his chest.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

This story is 99W exactly.

Thanks to Rochelle! Picture this week by Erin Leary

Categories: Flash Fiction | Tags: , , | 50 Comments

Magpie Tales

new york restaurant 1922 edward hopper

new york restaurant 1922 edward hopper

in a charming old bistrot
in the time it took to taste my tea
whirl the leaves
a newspaper in front of me
and find out
Ghandi’s son raped his eight
year old girl

its fashionable to not talk about such things
at a restaurant with such fine trimmings
such richness of discussion
coy eye blinks, a-flutter above tilted cup
but I saw his letter to his son
where he talked about what horror had been done
and the pain of an eight year old daughter

so in the time it took
to put down my tea
my faith in the world dissolved around me
and my sympathy for various vagrancies
became undone

I became a murderer in my heart
and passed you the milk
I ordered you a cupcake
and pondered on fate
for if Ghandi’s son can commit such a murder
of faith
then anyone can do asunder to another
and most likely will

 

for magpie tales

Categories: Verse | Tags: | 21 Comments

Carpe Diem Haiku – Raven

let the ravens come
let them smile as they pick the flesh
from the battlefield

ravenwomanphotomystory

what does
the raven
whisper to you?

image courtesy of  Irina Serban 

Categories: Carpe Diem Haiku | Tags: , , , , | 17 Comments

Magpie Tales: Suspended

image by Martin Stranka

image by Martin Stranka

like a flapjack bought at a highway store
undressed from plastic on a flat top
and ejected at a reststop
I found freedom to cruise

crushed by second hand truckers on table tops
numbed by the candy I had to suck
leftover from someone’s pockets
I had to choose

barefoot on route 66
if I make it to the west coast
before 5 o’clock
you can have my ass

San Fransisco’s Golden Gate
on the back of a Harley Davidson
or maybe it was all a dream
flushed down a toilet at the rest stop

another coffee at the counter
another evening wasted almost masturbated
in this small town that’s just a dot
on a map at an old egg yoke pitstop

 

___________________

for magpie tales

Categories: Verse | Tags: , , , | 2 Comments

“Here Put This In Your Pocket, It’ll Look Like You’re Carrying A Friend…”

“…..And remember, just don’t smile
Change your shirt, ’cause tonight we got style…”

What pathos, the epitome of delusion. ‘Meeting Across The River,’ by Bruce Springsteen is the Great American novel, and a must as accompaniment to Kerouac’s haiku below. When you listen , click here  to read the lyrics, simply…wonderful.

So the task today set by Chevrefeuille at Carpe Diem  is to use the haiku below by Kerouac to spur one to write one in similar tone, mood and spirit.

Neons, Chinese restaurants
coming on -
Girls come by shades

This is a haiku from a man who has been there. I can imagine the slow strobe effect of the neon lights painting the different women with different colours as they drift into the bar from the street. It brings to mind one of my favourite places when I lived in Bahrain, the Seashell Hotel, owned by the Bahraini prime minister, and in fact a brothel. The women who worked there were from Thailand, the bar staff from the Philippines and the waitresses from Ethiopia. I worked in Saudi Arabia at the time but came across the causeway most nights, driving on a road I have learnt is statistically the most dangerous in the world. We saw it all, I mean all on that road. I used to dress as an Uzbek in those days, with a ornate skull cap, as the terrorists were out and about in Saudi Arabia, dressing up as police and setting up roadblocks to find westerners. But I trusted the Saudis, implicitly, and knew if they ever heard of any danger they would discreetly tell me.

My Texan colleague next to me when I drove used to dress as a Saudi, until our Saudi friends told us there was no way he could be mistaken for a Saudi, even from a distance sitting in a car. For a Texan he was quite deadpan, and after a dangerous morning drive in the mist, which needless to say caused its fair share of accidents, we were driving back at high speed as one did. The highway arched around a long corner.

“Watch the dead guy,” he said evenly, as we came around the bend in the four lane highway.

“Yeah,” I said.

An accident had just happened, and someone had been ejected from one of the cars. We raced by, on to the border, not blinking an eyelid, the Texan drifting back to sleep. Those were the days.

At the Seashell I would smile with the charming hard-working, underpaid  Ethiopian waitresses and wait for the woman I shared a flat with, Pray Wa, to finish working, then would cook her breakfast before falling asleep.

“How many more  breakfasts ’till I get a free night?” I would laugh from the kitchen.

“Many, many more,” she would shout back in an ongoing joke that would shock friends and relatives.

neon lights change colour
her face goes red, blue, then yellow
-inside she stays the same

Categories: Carpe Diem Haiku | Tags: , , , , | 6 Comments

Carpe Diem Haiku Ghost Writer – May, Celestine of Reading Pleasure

The topic today is ‘stone.’ For me that brings back a few seconds from active days, and is just the right post to dedicate to Jimi Hendrix, and here’s why; but first, we need the lights,sound and atmosphere of his magestral Like a Rolling Stone.

Man did he influence my young days. When we went climbing in Chamonix on rock faces throughout the valley, it was his music blasting from the stereo strategically placed at the bottom of the rock.

And one day it sorta all came together. How could I ever forget when I was king, just for a smattering of seconds? I was there, grappling with the rock face, three points of contact with the rock, and reaching up for a hold, a crack in the rock to get my fingers through, as that great song was blasting up from below, and then suddenly it happened: I lost interest in gravity, so in tune was I with my surroundings, and I felt anything was possible, that no conscious force was needed to stay against the rock, and no force was pulling my weight downwards.

I carried on, slowly understanding what subconscious meditation might mean, that such meditation absolutely must involve movement, nature and a challenge to face. At that moment, when all is aligned, you can roll up a mountain.

scrambling up the rockface
I never knew I’d write a haiku
about that haiku moment

Categories: Carpe Diem Haiku | Tags: , , , , , , | 6 Comments

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