They end their flight
one by one–
crows at dusk
Shape-shifting in the gap,
the border of the map a light
of shadowing, not quite
prepared to reunite the tide
with ebb and flow implied
by intervals inside of time,
the pause between the line,
the missing paradigm unfilled,
the end of something. Stilled.
I’m a bit late with my February grid, but I thought it complemented Sue Vincent’s “Low Tide” prompt this week, so I did my own poem in response to both Buson and the photo (above).
Once again, I tried a new poetry form; this one is Vietnamese. It’s called Luc Bat, and you can read about it here.
Clear crystal dew drops
cascade from weeping willows
filling the Koi pond
iridescent circles grow
a frog drinks the falling tears
earthbound sorrow, birds call souls
to return to air
Poets in order of stanza appearance: M. Zane McClellan, Merril D. Smith, Kerfe Roig
Poets for Peace is sponsoring a community renga to promote using words “to light the way” towards a better world. The last stanza of the poem, above, is my contribution this week, adding to the two previous weeks’ stanzas. You have until midnight each Friday to add your own thoughts to the chain, here.
Say “I” loud, often.
Tweet your heart out. Becoming
“alternate”. Facts? Sad.
“…the Trump administration is the first to explicitly claim the ability and right to replace facts with something more convenient that has no basis in reality.”
–Erik Sherman, Forbes
–L. A. Davidson
Born in Montana, Laura Agnes Davidson (1917-2007) traveled and lived all over the world before settling in New York City in the 1960s, where she was introduced to haiku by a friend. As an active member of the Haiku Society of America, she both wrote and advocated for the poetic form she called “an art of evocation”. You can read more about the poet here and here, and read her own thoughts about haiku here.
Laura Davidson Tanna kindly gave me permission to use her mother’s haiku to begin 2017. May we all travel that beautiful highway of stars in the months to come.
haiku © L.A. Davidson from “The Shape of the Tree”
(wait til next year)
baseball has a way…
five golden-armed young pitchers–
can this magic last?
spate of injuries–
hoped to skip only one start–
gone for the season
a sacrifice fly–
put him in the clean-up spot
first major league start–
sometimes faith is rewarded
pitched well yet again
the ever calm elder sage
a pinch-hit grand slam
fastballs and sinkers
keeping the team in the game
seven shut-out innings
turn to the bullpen
(give up runs and you lose games)
his command was poor
bottom of the ninth
flyout to right, left, center
then it was over
baseball has a way…
the lingering question is–
(the silence in Queens)
All phrases in this haiku sequence taken from sports stories about the Mets in the NY newspapers during the final two months of the 2016 season.
A Hard Rain
has fallen shadowed
by endless endings, ghosts both
multiplied and lost
Yesterday Michael Kimmelman, in a feature article in the NY Times, noted: “Truth be told, no sane person wants to see these images….What’s happening in Aleppo is almost unbearable to look at….
Bana looks us straight in the eye and asks us to save her, please.
We have done nothing to help.
The very least we should do is look back.”
I’ve been working slowly on this embroidery, a companion to the first Syria headline haiku I did, because these images are hard to look at, hard to draw. The first piece, above and below, was done over a year ago, September 2015.
We can turn our eyes away, but that will not make Aleppo disappear.
Yoko Ono placed an ad in the front section of the NY Times on October 9, 2014, John Lennon’s birthday. He would have been 74.
It’s International Day of Peace, so I thought this headline haiku from two years ago would be worth revisiting.
John Lennon’s words seem a perfect fit for Planet Earth, and I collaged the world around them.
the earth is calling–
a tattered net unweaving
life into the void
My original haiku (inspired by the surrealists) was cut from headlines in the newspaper section; the new one was composed this morning as I looked at the image and thought about its message again.
“A dream you dream alone is only a dream.
A dream you dream together is reality.”
So…give peace a chance, world leaders.
Nina is still not ready to get back to art, so we’re taking a blog break. Don’t worry, we will return.
How cool the breeze:
the sky is filled with voices–
pine and cedar trees
Onitsura is one of the masters of haiku, a contemporary of Basho.
For the grid, I painted a landscape in gouache, cut it into squares and rearranged it, and added circles cut from magazine photos on top.