Tuesday, November 27, 2007

Weather haibun & suitable haiku

It is snowing and I sit by my window reading a book of winter haiku.

Here is a haiku by Miura Yuzuru

Snow on top
Lengthens
The height of the gateposts.

Here is one by Ono Rinka

A winter shower driving down--
Turmeric flowers
In full bloom.

And, finally, we have Nozawa Setsuko

Heaven and earth
Convulsing in the same breath
Let fall a tremendous snow.

I've always liked to sit and watch snow. It is a good diversion. One feels so much comfort by snow, even though it is, of course, cold and treacherous. It covers the world, making it all fresh and new, yet at the same time killing the last remnants of fall. Roads are slick. People fall on concrete. The snow falls in swirling, beautiful patterns, smoothing even that out. It is calming to sit by the window as the snow falls and read. So I take up my pencil and write in the margin next to the three poems:

Snow falls quietly
As I read by the window
Words settle my mind.

Labels: haiku, poetry, snowHe, weather, winter

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Friday, November 23, 2007

Salt Lake Tribune - A supple muse

And why wasn't I informed of this contest: Salt Lake Tribune - A supple muse?

Ah well, we shall have our own contest. Please enter your Jell-o brand gelatin-inspired haiku in the comments. Here be mine:

Carrots suspended,
You jiggle green and orange
Mighty lime Jell-0!

Next poetic project: "A Valediction Forbidding Jell-o""

AS virtuous men pass mildly away,
And whisper to their souls to go,
Whilst some of their sad friends do say,
"Now his breath goes," and some say, "Jell-o."

(My apologies to Mr. Donne.)

Labels: contest, haiku, joke, poetry

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Thursday, October 18, 2007

Travel

The box elder bug,
An unlikely commuter,
Flutters to the door.

Labels: haiku, out-of-town, poetry, travel

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Friday, August 31, 2007

Haibun while contemplating an abandoned bus stop

While sitting on my front porch this evening, I was struck by the contrast between the metal bus stop pole complete with its "BUS STOP ELIMINATED" placard and the gentle brown complexity of the tree next to it. I decided to sketch the scene. The sign has its flag-like blue and white UTA metal sign at the top, with its friendly-looking bus, and UTA contact information. Below are the confusing plastic signs indicating that the route is being changed, and then finally, on the bottom, that the route has been eliminated. Here the friendly bus has been crossed out with a disturbing red naught--an "O" with a slash through it. The metal pole the signs are attached to is galvanized and full of holes. It is firmly sunk into the grass of the parking strip by the corner of my lot. The sidewalk runs peacefully by, unaware that it will no longer feel the weight of people waiting to be transported somewhere out from under the shade of the tree that grows a few feet away.

My elbow rubs against the banana plant next to me as I capture the scene in my sketch book. The trunk of the tree draws my attention: a white knot-hole of a missing limb becomes all important to me. It whorls out over the page with my pencil.

The shadows in the street cross each other, and the solidarity of the sidewalk runs hard over the bottom of the scene.

My pencil scratches against the paper.

I have been careful to leave room to write this between my rendition of the pole and the tree trunk: