Brilliant! The new Haiku Foundation volunteer anthology 2025 is here! Co-editors Marta Chocilowska and Robert Kania, with the theme “back to childhood,” have produced a beautiful volume. Kick the Clouds is a must read!
Shamelessly proud to be included! My poem appears on p. 75.
Every Wednesday morning, seven of us serving the life sentence of Parkinson’s, tear through Mering Heath, in the south of Germany. Brushing against coarse grass and heather, stabbing the ground with our walking sticks, thrusting ourselves forward, we fill our lungs with the heather-scented air.
During today’s cooling-down session – swinging upper body left and right, extended arms loosely following, slowly catching our breath – the leader of our group relates the history of the place. In the 1700s, a building housing the Court of Justice stood exactly here by the Galgenbach, the Gallows stream. It was here that executions ordered by the Court were carried out. Crowds gathered, watched and cheered with the tightening of each noose, with each trap door opening. They watched the 15 minute-dance of the hanged, and then walked home.
hangman’s elm the ancient tree creaks and groans . In Blithe Spirit 35. 2 p. 70
My four-year-old grandson, sitting at the table facing me, starts moving his head and trunk in the same, writhing way I move mine. Dyskinesia, a side effect of the medication I take, comes and goes. The only way of stopping these movements is to sit back and keep silent.
I found out about the bomb craters in the Augsburg city forest during a walk with my Parkinson’s walking group. Marvelous recovery of a wounded landscape, and people. And apt for our own situation of struggling with progressive disease.
Sky Ponds—Himmelsweiher
The Siebentischwald, on the edge of Augsburg, acts as the lung of the city. Lush green vegetation crisscrossed by water channels and dotted by silent ponds makes this forest the life force of Augsburg. It turns out it is also the repository of an interesting piece of the city’s history: the forest floor bearing the scars of thousands of bombs that were dropped on it towards the end of World War II.
On my morning walk with my Parkinson’s group, in this peaceful, green oasis, pierced by high-pitched peacock cries from the adjacent Zoo, I come across oval ponds and other depressions filled with vegetation. I am told they are Bombenkrater, the remnants of craters formed by aerial bombing.
The proximity to the munitions manufacturer Messerschmitt meant that bombs often landed in the forest. However, the massive bombing raid in February 1944 literally dug up the forest floor, leaving numerous wounds on the landscape. In recent years, a public charity transformed some of these craters into ponds brimming with life.
cool forest shade. . .
lingering by the sky ponds
heat from the past
Literature, Art, and Life through the Lens of Haiku
Shamelessly proud to be included! My poem appears on p. 75.
