It's Still Life

Bleed the Wind (Haibun)

1.
Winter swept in, and whipped through the roses. Its thorns ripped, tore and bled the wind, and there were no words to fall on paper that wouldn’t stick to the nub of my pen … but words I found in the whispers of the forest, in the colours of all things singing of secret places. In damp mosses. With ferns, fox and bird. And nature’s wistful eyes did their bidding as the season turns on the curve of winter wind’s tail.

Wind, how flat the sound
Blowing dead across the land
Winter’s rustling wings

Written dVerse Poets “Monday Haibun –
Autumn foliage or Spring Blossoms”

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2.
Bleed the Wind (Free Verse)

Winter swept in
and whipped
the roses
whose thorns
ripped and bled the wind.

Oh how flat your sound,
blowing dead across the land.

And there were
no words
to fall on paper
as all stuck
to the nub of my pen.

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