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Category Archives: Haibun Poetry

Notes Found On The Refrigerator May 2017

Thankful twigs, children of the blight:

Used as kindling from Camelot to Brooklyn, with ancestry in branches of Majestic Elms—

Extinct in the flames of purification they crackled and glowed in memories

Of the beautiful Main streets with bustling thoroughfares.

—when they, in regal tradition, stole the whole show.

Some interesting research digging around on the subject (for whatever, when it popped up in my mind) about the Elm tree… and perhaps I was looking for something about our future? Understanding and approaching it with history’s humility

: https://growinghistory.wordpress.com/2012/02/28/some-history-of-historic-plants/

 

*****

            No matter where I have been, in my heart I have always heard “welcome son!” And, I am as sure as my sisters have heard addressed— personally to them. The question that accompanies such a greeting is; where exactly are we? That we are being received and welcomed? And, of course, how our etiquette suddenly begins and our exit should end.

Rain falls hard on thorns

Roses soon to bloom perk up

Both will co-exist

*****

Whoa, Silver! Here comes the black stallion to welcome the Pinto.

*****

I sit here by the firelight of life, feeling old, tired, and worn out.

I sit proud with a peaceful heart after battles lost and won—

I notice the imprint of my shield, above the fireplace,

Nicked and gashed in gallant memory as history touts.

It has been sold. Two weeks ago. For bread, vegetables, lettuce, meat,

And sprouts.

I am neither happy nor angry

Nor am I hungry.

 

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Grow Over The Wall

      It has always been hard for me to describe the birth and the growth of three sons. They,  became so entwined in my birth, that all I could do was to enjoy their wrapping around me; until we let each other go, with love unharmed.

Child like seedling small

Born in the soil of mother

Grow over the wall.

 
14 Comments

Posted by on January 9, 2017 in Children, Haibun Poetry, Pine Cone Diaries, Zen

 

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Winter’s Lover

                I’m not getting around doing much reading lately. Listening to my own head and writing notes into drafts, into outlines, revised again and again trying to avoid the trash; has been taking the days. But, I continue my short walks through the woods outside my “cave” and enjoy autumn swooshing summer away in grand fashion; as the days get shorter and the nights get longer, she prepares for a great sleep over, getting completely naked for winter.

Fallen leaf in frost

Pines shelter an autumn grove

for winter’s lover

 
 

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Brass, Brazen Maple Leaf

    Brass, brazen maple leaf, embossed with a very serious face. Buds around you change in every season; green in spring, leaf in summer, then celebrate their passing in bright reds, yellow, and orange. Crackling under my feet, whispering to me; seasons pass and I am looking forward to wintry solitude.

     You, my friend, stand against my fence. Never blowing away. Brass and brazen, always in the same place.

Maple Leag

     A gift from a flea market, many years ago. A gift from my children, placing our imagination, with their love, in an honored presentation, on Father’s Day; of my favorite leaf, one from a maple tree, brass, brazen as could be; never blowing away, always in the same place, as their love continues for me.

Splintered kindling wood

Moss growing moist on north side

Summer serves them well

Written In Center Sandwich NH at Kathleen’s place.

 

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I Shall Grow

Ron's Sailboat

 

 

     I went out on the deck—felt the wind before the jibe caught the blow of a vengeful breeze. The keel visibly surfaced two feet below foaming water, in awkward lean. Water marks on the board, as visible as eye could see—  Oh shit! I braced myself against the rail leaning on tippy-toes in the opposite direction.

     I went below. I rocked, and balanced myself with each swell before the waves, catching myself with arms extended against the polished teak walls in the bow;

     I recognized, remembering the keel’s markings— of my life and against the rail, being driven across the reef of tomorrow.

 

I shall grow old— as sea mist foams in after life

seafoam

 
13 Comments

Posted by on March 17, 2016 in Haibun Poetry, Haiku, Nature, New Hampshire, Poetry, Zen

 

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A Lost Silver Dollar

     The bottle stood full on the refrigerator for hours… days… weeks and a few months. Every time I looked at it, opening the refrigerator door, I thought and sang “Don’t think twice, it’s Alright ” by Bob Dylan— But, eventually, I took it down and placed it on the counter, found a clean glass, placed a few cubes of ice into it— and poured two fingers—stared out the kitchen window, seeing the full moon —to a lost silver dollar—I raised my glass.

Katie3

  Let dying heart ache

Release all blame and accept

The seedling of I

 

Note of entertainment:

Although I enjoy Bob Dylan’s singing his song,I also like Ramblin’ Jack Elliot’s version to represent the atmosphere I was in  🙂

 
24 Comments

Posted by on March 14, 2016 in Haibun Poetry, Haiku, Love, Outlaw, Poetry, thoughts, Zen

 

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Aspen Way

Aspen Way North Hampton, New Hampshire—street lights brighten the snow plowed—snow drifted piles of glistening crystal borders— crunches my path to the main street store below my feet — under full moon— I go to get milk and bread hearing thundering waves and the coming storm.

winter upon us

darkness will always prevail

until I return.

 
19 Comments

Posted by on February 15, 2016 in Haibun Poetry

 

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