To exhausted to open
the refrigerator
door this morning,
I found this note
getting swept up
from the kitchen floor:
Aug. 10th 2020: Quar
Category Archives: Haibun
Notes found on the refrigerator Aug. 18th 2020 (QUAR)
I opened the door at dusk and caught a good size flash
of white fly in ahead of me.
I close the door and I’m still not sure
if it was a big moth or Tinkerbelle…
The plants wave and sway when I sit down among them, often, even without a breeze. At dusk, at that time, they do get a little bold, as their suitors are asleep counting their blessings..
From dandelions, petunias, coleus, other’s that I threw the tag away at planting, and of course, the neighboring wild daisies; we all seem to have a mutual understanding for each other.
As sunset glows, stopping to affirm our relationship, a humming bird stops by and takes a sip of summer’s last flowers. And as a card in the spokes of a bicycle, flies away as loud as a snore.
crickets rejoice night
settling the day gracefully
awakening dew
Notes found on the refrigerator…June 18th. 2020 QUAR
QUAR Notes: [Haibun Journal]
R.K Garon
June 18th 2020 QUAR
Ode to my Coleus and her best friends:
Oh! Coleus of majestic colors of red, yellow, and green, standing tall among the pansies and petunias.
The pine New Hampshire mountains, as a back drop, gives the admirer a reflection in the mind. Colorful fantasies even to the blind.
black and white is stark
rainbows from dark clouds bend light
shadows disappear
******
This time, just before dusk, I’ve noticed, on several occasions, a black butterfly. The only reason I notice it, she flutters around the sunflowers, never touching them, and just as quickly, I notice her whizzing by my ear as she flies away. “Sleep tight” I’ve heard.
Now, what the hell is that all about? As I said my prayers.
Chair in the garden
Flowers or vegetables
Space is required
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 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.
The Ghost of Alonzo
After a late Easter Vigil Mass; Alonzo and I crept and crawled under the beds of sleeping friends in the “Big Boys” dormitory at the Orphanage. Sister St. Jean was in her rocking chair sound asleep. Hearing her snore, was our cue to slip out of our beds, stuff the pillows under the blankets to make it look, from a distance, we were still asleep.
Shushing each other with a finger over our lips we doubled checked Sister St. Jean, to see if she was still there, in the creaking rocking chair. She was assigned every other Friday night to guard the dormitory room. We knew, as usual on that night, that she would be out like a light before the first shine of the moon. We had her in our first class that morning, when the first bell rang.
Waiting for her infamous rhythmic bass sound, and the silence of the chair on opposite sides of the well-lit hallway, divided by the Holy snore, in its silence, we met. Pointing at the doubled doors, which were opened for the warm spring air and the moon that was brightly illuminating the escaping concrete stairs.
We tiptoed down, hanging on to each other’s hands and the other on the rails. Then we ran independently through wet grass with our heels sticking slightly into the mud of the warm spring garden before we climbed the fence between the two brick walls. I chipped my tooth as I fell on the other side. Alonzo picked me up, shook my hand and never saying good-bye, continued to run past me as he was waving one arm.
Looking around, finding myself outside, I walked the long block around the orphanage at least twenty or thirty times. Circling many times, I was getting to know my way better each time. Eventually I understood and had to resign, that I had no place to go, now. And the sun was beginning to rise after my adventure that began after sundown. I knocked on the front door where I once entered several years ago, to go back, again inside. As I went in, walking back to the dormitory, I could hear the corridors murmur, “he has found away to leave here”.
They will serve my meal
I have found the heart of thorns
may I find the way.
**
Stood the Archangel
with the serpent under foot
handing me her sword.
Notes found on the refrigerator April & May 2018
It happened one day, when I discover humility: from the beginning, to its beginning, when I was unable to peel an orange, bake bread— or, crack an egg… before I made my breakfast, drank my coffee and settled for cold cereal.
I still get up for one more day’s length —from my inviting bed, and make my many visits to my children and grandchildren; catching up with things I never heard, though has been repeated several times. Any way, I usually, on my way out, steal from large pottery bowls, an apple or an orange, sometimes cashews left on the counter tucked in-between in a smaller bowl.
Waving a right handed good-bye and a thankful smile, I drive through Center Sandwich village, before sunset and well before the June’s moon will rise.
I get home, make a late supper, take in another amazing day; then I go to bed smiling with my beads in grateful prayer.
Presence is not known
Until it reveals itself
In true existence
******
Entertainment:
The greatest movie in the evening, I go and watch, when I become bored with myself and have no desire to make a meal or take a walk or even to pop popcorn and turn on the TV —I look out my window.
I watch the leaves dancing on branches making songs from the wind; so I rise and go outside and join in on the chorus as a movie extra, in the production of the “H.M.S. Pinafore”.
Mystics from the past
carry you through the seasons
—you met once before.
**********
Stubbornness:
On Monday morning, he opened his door, ole slim Lewis just raised his price, at the corner store. Raisin’ the price of flour from 5 cents to 15 cents a pound, no less no more.
I can still hear mama sayin’, “I’d just as soon pick a handful of dandelions and trade them evenly for a pound of pork rinds than give him —the extra dime”.
Eatin’ potatoes,
without honey glazed biscuits,
fried in pork fat rinds.
**********
Acceptance:
He feels the strength of her independence,
when she stepped forward —naked with strangers in a local stream;
far from her parents and her lover sitting, with tee-shirt
and dry swimming trunks, life guard symbol on his seam. He is wondering
whether to sit, or, to hold up her abandoned towel —to stand
up, to greet her, with a smile and without giving her any shit, holding out
both his hands.
Yo’ Bro’ wass’ happinin’?
Looks like love has seen a ghost,
Groovin’ and strollin’. 😊
-
Finally:
Memorial Day 2018
The threat of death whether on the street, or, worse yet,
being an actor in the theater of war. Death, is ever-present
in all of them; from desk, teaching, jungle, or sand.
Whether killed, captured, or not;
is this fear, whether dismissed in discipline, forgot.
It is because of them, under constant threat,
you can sleep tight, and won’t let the bed bugs bite.
R.I.P …mon père, mes oncles pendant la deuxième guerre mondiale et mon frère cadet, le Vietnam.
Je vous remercie.
Richard.
Haibun Monday: From the kitchen of poets
Lines/excerpts from: “Family Christmas Songs” combined w/ “New Years Eve at Mill Street ” from the Poetry Vol. Night Before Breakfast, to capture and edit for this weeks Haibun theme..
ZQ
~ Baked beans in the pot resting with salt pork, hot dogs browning in a small amount of butter on the stove top, brown bread, peeking’ from wrapped aluminum foil nested by the bean pot steaming, drifting, filling the house with a familiar Saturday night smell. Grandma, the matriarch, while straightening and re-arranging Christmas decorations is shuffled off as the children and their families drop in with hugs and greetings. They shed coats for memories of new years past, recognizing the dining room table and the familiar plates, glass salt and pepper shakers, bread and real butter to toast merriment of a seasons’ joy and the ever-present beginning of a new year.~
All proclaiming it
That true nature within us
Is the prophecy.
Note: The Long version “New Years Eve at Mill Street ” w/o the Haiku which belongs to :”Family Christmas Songs”.is linked, if interested.
https://rkgaron.wordpress.com/2013/12/29/new-years-eve-at-mill-street
My Gift To You
I began giving gifts, on the proper occasion, in the last few years or perhaps even, further than that, of things I have owned and have held fondly. They were meaningful to me, enjoying the memories of where and why I had them.
Their presence… through the years, eventually faded into the bookcase or on an empty shelf, or, on top of the piano; until once a year I dusted them.
Now, memories have assimilated into experience and knowledge. So please accept these pieces of my life that has been shared many times, as I pass on this gift of acceptance to share with you.
fresh pines tied in red
marks the door that welcomes gifts
in a special light
Merry Christmas to all my writer and creative friends.
