Tag: haibun
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Stream of Consciousness Saturday
31 July 21: A Stream of Consciousness Haibun The bees are crazy on fermented honey, like happy little saints working their way to heaven, and there’s pink and white and green in this a mangle of flowers, a handful for granny’s vase, and in a few days they’ll wilt and drop across the table, lily […]
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Saturday’s Stream of (un)Consciousness
My house has a red door. Not sure why I chose red, except that I like red. Nobody else around here does, it seems. Across the street, their front door is white. Next door’s is white. The other side is grey. Next to them is grey. There’s a blue one up the street. And a […]
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Reblogged for Flashback Friday
I. It’s hot. Like record-breaking hot. I want to chill my skin across cold marble. Like shortcrust pastry needs. Or submerge myself into a wave, into the sequinned imagination of a mermaid. Like a cold water fish. Like a big old lazy cod. I want to hibernate in a green grassy mirage before I falter […]
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dVerse Haibun
Yes, Of Course, The Lesser Periwinkle I’m sitting in the damp evening air, rain still dripping from the leaves, and my ear catches the sound of small bone animals in the Vinca Minor (there was a time when I couldn’t recall its proper name – now I can’t recall its common name, although I’m sure […]
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Day 27 NaPoWriMo 2021
Day 27: I. & II. NaPoWriMo “a word from the Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows” – an Ambedo Haibun also for dVerse Poets III. AprilPAD “Believe it/Or Not” written as a Nodus Tollens and The Poeming “The Red Light Berry” I.An Ambedo Haibun A bee at the windowpane. It’s buzzing. Angry. Or frantic. It can see outside, thinks it’s outside. […]
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27 April 2021: Haibun
Vicariously Vigàta No more news. Not tonight. No more gasps for air. No more funeral pyres, or smoke and fire. No more wives in tears, or men beating chests, and no more orphans ghostly stares. I escape it all, if just a while, watching reruns on the TV. Police drama in Vigàta. A Sicilian seaside […]
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5 January 2021: A Haibun for dVerse
The Acropolis Physic Gardens There are no gardens in the ancient Agora of Athens, just weeds striding proud through the stoney ruins. We sit amongst ancient silence with a wide glance of the world. Here, with its endings, where history began. our voices traveleyes half open to winter’sicy fingers for dVerse Haibun “Beginnings” and @Experimentsinfc #APoemADay on […]
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A Haibun for dVerse Poets
A Haibun Poem for dVerse Poets Dust swirled behind the car and I remember thinking, I want a long white lace veil when I get married. I was 14. The road ahead was silent and empty, the woods thickly green rising up from earth’s heart, stumps like elbows and trees tall as time waiting by […]
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A Moment for a Haibun
I’m watching a grey squirrel who gives me an occasional cautious glance, and it’s shredding the birds table into bits, tossing pieces of wire and mesh around, and then you say, The air smells so fresh this morning, like chlorophyll — and the squirrel is hurling abuse and obscenities at the bird feeder because it’s […]
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dVerse Rooms
Grandpa was autumn. That’s how I saw him. In his brown trousers and rusty-red shirt and a folded paper hat on his head that looked like an origami boat, and he’d stand there in his basement workshop sawing up some piece of driftwood, sawdust flying about like a blizzard. A lightbulb hung from a cord […]
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