autumn destruction senseless selfish bitterness we have not advanced
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“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
let the ravens come
let them smile as they pick the flesh
from the battlefield
whisper to you?
image courtesy of Irina Serban
three cherry blossoms
barely cover your modesty
ah! what joy in spring!
Ye gods, what a difficult prompt, that others will as usual take in their stride! I saw some beautiful haiku in yesterday’s prompt, here (Maniparna), here (Gillena) and here (Celestine). But also here (Ese) and many more…
‘Photographing’ seems tough. What clever imagery could we evoke? Striking the right balance in a haiku is difficult, and I think I’m going to find a vintage Japanese photograph to sprinkle with words.
a dream makes me
they let the balloons go
on jagged branches
in the tumbling snow
on the jagged edges
of jagged stone
were let loose
from the palms of our hands
from the psalms
of our defunct books
so much was left unsaid
by too much innocence
too numbed by cold
nothing to say
before we passed
the real tests
moved to our caves
let our balloons take our stories
far from us
in sunset skies
and jagged branches
where even the snow had dried
and we wonder
if we ever really tried?
I can give up all
but not my bellydancer’s holy dance
Sometimes it feels like that’s all there is left. Two old warrior’s we felt ourselves to be, at the kitchen table this morning, my painter and I. Both about the same age. In his youth he’d been a UN blue beret – attached to the UN through the Finnish army. In my youth, with my beret green, I’d been in exactly the same area, with the French military, Lebanon, Syria, Israel. We’d perhaps even been only yards apart at times.
And both of us knew that rare thing. We both knew and felt the lies so often told about the Middle East by our western governments and press, this ex-UN soldier, attached with his Finnish regiment, and I. He’d witnessed a Norwegian UN soldier, a woman, beaten up by Israelis when she had a flat tyre and was trying to flag a car down for help, though it was true she was in uniform and Israelis revile the UN – but her thumb up gesture was also a dire insult in Israel. I’d heard about it. We both saw or heard about many incidents.
We drunk our coffee, and we knew the lies.
“But still the dates grew in the trees, all year round,” he said, “and the olives too, until those crazy extremist Jewish settlers burnt all the olive groves.”
“That was, and still is terrible,” I said, “and never talked about.”
The cold crept in trough the open kitchen window. I shivered.
“When I was a child, all our winters were cold, full of snow,” he said, looking out the window with me, at the trees just starting to bud. “This year winter did not come properly but still the cold lingers.”
“Yeah,” I said.
“Maybe that is how it is now,” he said, “never really starting, or ever finished.”
flowering spring won’t be today
I miss absent palm trees
Before I post my haiku, or you read it, I’d be honoured if you just took a few minutes to watch this video of the guys – gypsy dancers I know from far back. If anyone thinks this is easy stuff, well, I think you might want to try it. know exactly how hard it is, and remember one night with guitars, milk jugs, my bongo drum and an Australian with didgeridoo. A beautiful night but some of the toughest dancing ever to learn. But its the synchronicity also – just watch how it builds up, and you’ll go some way to understanding my love for the roma people, the gypsies. Worth every minute, this short video.
dances her path before me
-a romany blessing
To finish off see how the music reaches deep in this gypsy home. These roma are quite light-skinned, and in my experience more so than the lovely bronze tone some friends had. Makes no difference of course, once a gypsy always a gypsy for many of the European population, who discriminate against roma people, the largest minority in Europe, in the crudest of ways.
in the thunderous solitude
the answer lies within
I wonder what the difference is between pilgrim and refugee. Both seek shelter from the world. It is true that they both might pass each other on the road, dressed in similar clothes, with the similar, hunted look in the eyes, or upon the face. Of course, the pilgrim wants to come back, and the refugee does not. And the pilgrim is rushing to his god, while the refugee is running away from someone else’s god. But aside from these differences, they are both somewhat similar in nature, more or less.
shooting star at night
or floating ember from fire
grasshopper guesses wrong
The goal of this feature is to write an all new haiku which starts with the given first line.
.This week’s haiku has to start with the following first line:
a shooting star
a shooting star
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