QUAR Notes: [Haibun Journal]
R.K Garon
Notes found on the refrigerator…June 17th. 2020 QUAR
a wine-o’s lament
sometimes i feel no pain,
without memory, history,
or just absent from the space I am.
for a moment or two
or fifty years it’s the same.
i’ve atrophied the ability to understand
or acknowledge the pain.
someday I will only hurt
without pain again.
insatiable grass
groom to please caretaker green
wilts when you piss on
*****
Summer’s heat with a cool mountain breeze melts the senesces, as I watch the glitter from the lake below.
bending flower sleep
a noon hour lunch hurries
empty bag to save
*****
Sunset, reminiscent of my sunrise, yet not remembering how I got here.
Oh! I am enjoying how I come and go.
it’s a good evening
sunshine fades with “Bon Nuit”
moon grass celebrates
QUAR Notes: [Haibun Journal]
R.K Garon
Notes found on the refrigerator…June 14th.-16th. 2020 QUAR
June 14th. 2020 QUAR (Sunday)
Loneliness has been good company. It has allowed me to play solitaire with joy and frustration. And eventually urges me to water the plants, for better company.
Old man in the field
Tall grass welcomes summer breeze
Car honks going by
June 15th. 2020 QUAR
Social Distancing to save lives seems to be reasonable:
People seem to be gathering in a lightning storm without being grounded. I saw a bunch of them lined up to get an ice cream cone carrying bottled water. Holy shit! Watch out for the lightning.
Traffic was buzzing as I was leaving off the coast of Rye as I exhale coastal air; heading back to the mountains of Sandwich NH to inhale the rivers, ponds, and lakes. It is different “air”, but here in New Hampshire, neither would exist without the other.
I didn’t speedup, nor had to use my brakes too often, on my way home.
life is in color
each one has its own nature
mindful in the eye
June 16th 2020 QUAR
Father’s day is looming in between the sun and clouds. Each day, as I remember, was a celebration of love and birth.
Life is ongoing
Breaks the ground for a new born
Blooming where planted
*****
I set out to explore an overgrown garden that a previous tenant had started. It still is a beautiful space that someone had lovingly taken care of. Flowers pop up any where they want- in between the tall grass and other nomadic residents.
I put on tick and mosquito repellent then sat down re-thinking my reason for wanting to walk in there. Starring into the old overgrown garden, I saw a path that seem to be inviting me. I got up and walked though it not disturbing anything.
“Let it be” they sang
summer shines before winter
clearing mind and breath
QUAR Notes: [Haibun Journal]
Notes found on the refrigerator…June 11th.-13th. 2020 QUAR
June 11th. 2020
Thursdays have always seemed to be quite days for me. yet on Fridays, I groom and saddle the horse… and ride her into Monday; tired and happy I walk in with a smile, saddle sore, bow legged, and never wearing spurs.
owl sees at night
daytime sees quick moving grass
best of days are here
June 12th. 2020
I went to the coast today to help an old, self-quarantined friend, Miss Holly. Before heading off from the mountains, I texted her a note. Asking her to text me and let me know what she needed; I would pick it up on my way there. Please text me the list, because I may forget what you have said over your speaker phone; while you were watching the jewelry channel. 😊
The first text listed four items. The second text added another five. The last text included provisions for a bunker and don’t forget toilet paper.
No problem. When I arrived, she sprayed all the bags with disinfectant. I could hear “thru her deep suit diving mask” saying a loud “thank you” and bowing with grace, “ be safe”.
She couldn’t see the smile behind my mask; so I winked at her and told her “I would see you next week. I’ll call and check on you during the week”.
*****
June 13th. 2020
Miss Holly, has sold her house and has moved into a “senior village”. As usual she’s a little paranoid of people spaced within 300 feet or less of her property. She feels safe there but she still locks her door.
After I run her errands, from groceries to printer ink, to medication, and to the next town for a scooter battery…( that was impossible to replace, having sat there for 2 years melted to the casing). I would sit, as I usually do, a little tired and smiling, on Miss Holly’s porch. I open a bottle of beer, lite a cigarette and take out my notebook and given the space to write, enjoying where I am.
I’ll often look up to see strolling villagers. I think there’s about a hundred of them; widowers, widows, old couples and friends. Not all stroll by, but those that do wave and we exchange our gratitude for the day.
Flower between rock
Rain washes the grass true green
Time is age well spent
Notes found on the refrigerator…June 10th. 2020
Desire! The devil in the bottle, the glitter of gold in empty fisted hand, greed, self-adoration, and snorting the frosting on every cake.
Often desires, overwhelms the conscience at the table of our nature. Understanding the argument, in the environment that it presents: our sub-conscious processes the outcome.
Shall we seek the truth
Desires are a bastard
Dandelions bloom
Notes found on the refrigerator…June 8th. & 9th. 2020
June 8th. 2020
Skirmishes about; passed the villages below. A light mist of rain may calm the senses down. Releasing all opinions and doubt.
We are all part of Nature. Plants on window sills, rooftops, or in the garden, seek no help; except for the generosity of their loved ones.
There are skirmishes about
the villages below;
they are casting idols of gold.
June 9th. 2020
oh my!
i stopped at the village store and figured i would buy some scratch tickets. my luck lately has had its ups and downs.
i bought three, three- dollar tickets, asking the clerk to pick only winners. please. She said “they are all winners until you scratch them”.
i couldn’t smile at her, behind my cloth mask, so I winked. 😊
love is nature deep
sand dollar hidden on beach
an itch is scratched
Notes found on the refrigerator…June 6th. & 7th. 2020
June 6th. 2020
I was kissed by a moth in the headlights
of an oncoming car;
we both flew… out of the way.
ZQ
June 7th. 2020 (Sunday)
The butterflies were flying around the flowers and blooming blackberry bushes. Fluttering about in scenes of frenzy before they landed on one of them; wings upright and still.
With their bright colors in the noon day sun, they enjoy their nectar for lunch. Then, they flutter away; wings never stopping, across the grass and flirting with the branches of the trees. But, they never go to the top of them, with no such dreams.
nature is alive
productive and on purpose
enjoy who you are
Scribbled note:
regardless of all my perfections and ignorance, I still seek redemption, in my Sacred nature.
Notes found on the refrigerator…June 5th. 2020
a note to my children:
You were all born with an Angel on your shoulder
Disguised as a small invisible white bird.
Look at you now! All grown up with a smile;
And without a frown, that ultimately always shines,
As bright as the moon clears the clouds.
Who knew how each of you would grow up;
with your mother and I. (in each smile and frown!)
Love you
For ever
As you were born
Sitting on your shoulder
we heard a white bird
Which our hearts still hear.
Notes found on the refrigerator…June 4th. 2020
I’ve been washing dishes since I was twelve years old. Sometimes wiping, sometimes scrubbing, and once in a while soaking. Which brings me to my current state of six spoons, four forks, and three knives. And an assorted accouterments that rattle and roll freely every time I open and close the drawer.
To make a long story short, at seventy-four, I use one spoon a day. Then on the seventh day I have to do the dishes. I rinse one out for the day’s coffee, having run out of spoons and noticing the mess it has created during the week before, I throw it back into the suds; and begin my day of service.
shit shines every night
along with the star light bright
“dew shine”, anyone ?
Notes found on the refrigerator…June 3rd. 2020
two mourning doves: (haibun)
relationships are being defined in the environment of the nest they live in.
–some in a tree with no leaves that once held dreams.— the true skeleton behind the feathers exposes its heart.
rattling off to a branch, bones tickling each other, they wait for another Love’s morning.
sunlight drying dew
summer’s warmth removes the sheet
pillow soft asleep
