Giving Thanks

I spent a lot of time thinking about the earthweal challenge this week, to write a poem of thanks. It all came down to the same thing: I’m thankful for life, to be alive. But I couldn’t think of another better way to say it.

always unexpected—this
grace, this balancing—darkness
shining into light

Happy Thanksgiving to those celebrating, and those who are not. May we remember and honor all life with care and gratitude.

Poem up at Pure Haiku

Part of the ARTURINA theme.

You can read it here.

My thanks, as always, to Freya Pickard for supporting my poetry.

seasons

oceanic bells
remnants of autumn bending
landscapes into dreams

beneath winter’s frost
ancient stonesongs murmur
through rootpaths
following earthlight
from seed to spring

haiku and gogyohka from the Oracle

shell

well, first the wayward wind—grey—if you tried to hold it, your hands remained empty–

the song of the sirens, spilled into a traverse of stone and sea—perhaps some dragon’s breath—a shape becoming uncovered, a shape turning into a wheel that reminds itself to spiral—

the beach is hungry, but in a subtle way—do not conclude that it can be ignored–

gaping portals
azure shimmering
meeting places

 

Stream of consciousness for Grace at dVerse.  I’ve been doing a lot of this because of a recent prompt I saw that incorporated this technique, where you took a treasured object and wrote a bunch of unedited stories about it.  This was from my origin story.

The original writing for this haibun took up a whole page–I just selected a few parts and made a kind of haiku by removing words from one “sentence”.  The drawings are once again taken from my archives.  I’ve spent a lot of time drawing shells.

summer in the city 2020

dense with heat
drivers changing shifts
bus idles

basketball
gold headphones playing
by himself

skateboard clacks
over empty courts
echoed moves

line of carts
winds around corner
still waiting

masked hunger
distances between
uncovered

heavy clouds
greyness falling now
lightning flash

For Frank Tassone at dVerse, a haiku sequence reflecting what I saw out my window this morning.

My monoprints were inspired by de Kooning, but somehow ended up looking more like Pollock.

triangulations

I am am three wishes
caught in a vast sea-tossed net
of indecision

Grace at dVerse asked us to use the words I am in a first person narrative.

heat wave

on the horizon
top melts into bottom and
becomes something else

For Frank Tassone’s haikai challenge #147 smoldering hot.

And a watercolor for World Watercolor Month, hosted by Charlie at Doodlewash.

on the verge

trees
remember who
we were when

I stand alone surrounded by distances, covered with a vast blue, green layered behind and below.  I have come to the precipice to find my place in the landscape.  I intended to bring beautiful words, to leave poetic gifts as tokens on the wind, to tie threads of song to the sky.

But I find nothing more is required of me than to be here, present, alive.

once
we belonged
to the earth

© 2020 Frank J. Tassone

For Colleen’s #Tanka Tuesday, a haibun inspired by the photo provided by Frank Tassone, above.

I’ve had this song on my mind for awhile.

also linked to earthweal open link weekend

curvilinear

The Oracle was simple and direct today.  Humans aren’t in the picture at all.

brown
earth seeds
listen to winter

roots
grow between
rain and sun

ancient
light tendrils
green through birdsong

full
into bee
deep summer air

Nina and I used to collaborate with the Oracle on a semi-regular basis.  I’m hoping we will do so again soon.

Solstice Moon

horizon
trails flames of solstice–
moon shines dark

Inspired by Nina’s gouache painting, above, and Frank Tassone’s #Haikai challege to choose our own summer kigo.

Nina’s painting made me think of flowers and butterflies.  And when I saw the photo of Martha Graham dancing in the Times, I felt immediately that she must be holding the moon.

Summer solstice this year coincides with a solar eclipse of the new moon.  Magic is afoot!