Grateful to be included in ‘Echoes 2,’ the yearbook of the New Resonance Community and its 170 poets, celebrating the 20th anniversary of the New Resonance series!
Gratitude! Originally included in Robert Epstein’s Beyond The Grave: Contemporary Afterlife Haiku, 2015, this haiku
has been translated into Chinese by Chen-ou Liu, 劉鎮歐 and included in Butterfly Dream!
Today I came across a beautiful meditation on death and dying: Debiprasad Mukherjee & Gabriel Rosenstock’s lyrical and soulful collaboration: Last Stop Before Salvation
This is how their work is presented by the Culturium:
In this week’s guest post for The Culturium, Debiprasadoffers us a window on the private world of those in the final days of their life ensconced in a hospice on the banks of the Ganges river. Coupled with Gabriel’s beautiful haiku, their collaborative offering is a moving and deeply profound meditation on the soul’s journey from this life to the next.
Debiprasad Mukherjee, Last Stop Before Salvation – The Culturium
I took this photo during a recent visit to Wuerzburg. It is the Großer Sitzende (Big Seated), north side of Wuerzburg Cathedral, a work by Maria Lehnen.
My video ‘Lake Constance,’ filmed on location, with haiku by yours truly, and edited byRob Ward, is now featured as part of The Haiku Foundation HaikuLifeFilmFest 2018! (with the sound of waves and wind)
gut bacteria
the strange call
of the wild
9/100 Astonishing news from the BBC makes my #100daysnewthings!
More than half of our body is not human, claim scientists.
‘Human cells make up only 43% of the body’s total cell count.’ The rest are microscopic colonists: bacteria, viruses, fungi and other organisms. ‘The greatest concentration of this microscopic life is in the dark murky depths of our oxygen-deprived bowels.’ http://www.bbc.com/news/health-43674270
Image copied from the #BBC website #The100DayProject#100daysnewthings#poetsofinstagram #followme#poetry#poems#haiku#stories#dailycreativity
It’s at its loudest in the early morning hours. Before light dissolves darkness, before the neighbour leaves for work, before the birds start singing, his laboured breathing comes over the baby monitor whispering, gurgling, rattling, spluttering…
I lie awake listening to the crack of thunder, the roaring waterfall, the sounds of the sea emitted from his chest. A car starting, the exhaust backfiring, the train leaving station. The boat reversing in the harbour. Light rain. A soft mieow. His breathing renders a whole world. In this soundscape, I make out the stories he told me when years ago he put me to bed.
Soon, light dispels the apparitions, and his breath comes over the monitor soft, steady, regular, lulling me to sleep.
