.
unmade bed
the chimney sweep avoids
my eye
.
NaHaiWriMo prompt: Bedroom
.
unmade bed
the chimney sweep avoids
my eye
.
NaHaiWriMo prompt: Bedroom
cup of tea –
gurgle of the living room
radiator
.
NaHaiWriMo prompt: living room
how did the sea change
from wine-dark to turquoise?
paper boats
.
NaHaiWriMo prompt: turquoise
early arrivals
at the bus shelter
snowdrops
.
NaHaiWriMo prompt: white
prayer…
silence of ripe cornfields
against a blue sky
.
NaHaiWriMo prompt: blue
.
the living wall around the cemetery all dried-up
.
NaHaiWriMo prompt: green
contrails –
the red vein on the white
of his eye
.
NaHaiWriMo prompt: red
spring tides
the lifeboat crewman’s
hoarse voice
.
NaHaiWriMo prompt: orange
Piraeus –
glint of the sailor’s
wedding ring
.
NaHaiWriMo prompt: harbor/port
in the shade
of the lemon tree
wild violets
.
NaHaiWriMo prompt: shade tree
quicksilver through
mudflat creeks –
terns in flight
.
NaHaiWriMo prompt: river
.
fishing harbor –
where the glacier
melts
.
NaHaiWriMo prompt: glacier
.
olive grove
the Cretan shepherd shares
his bread with me
.
NaHaiWriMo prompt: hiking
.
supermarket aisle –
goat’s milk on the highest
——————————–shelf
.
NaHaiWriMo prompt: milk
.
each grain of truth (th)rice turned over
.
NaHaiWriMo prompt: rice
.
roasting beetroot —
from my daughter’s recipe
a dash of balsamic
.
NaHaiWriMo prompt: vegetable
.
seeds of desire
the way grated nutmeg falls
on my plate
.
NaHaiWriMo prompt: spice
fettuccini
a girl asks if it means
little feta
.
NaHaiWriMo prompt: cheese
egg and lemon soup
my family history
in the pot
.
NaHaiWriMo prompt: eggs
paw prints
on the tablecloth –
marinara
.
NaHaiWriMo prompt: pasta
.
a lifeline follows the quiet path moss garden
.
.
one illusion after the next pond scum
.
NaHaiWriMo prompt: animal
rain or shine
a child is born
.
NaHaiWrimo prompt: rain
.
chrysanthemum moon
who said I’m perfect
.
NaHaiWriMo prompt: flower
a Thames ship’s bow wave
tosses and rolls the moored boats –
floating leaf
autumn river
I count the moonbeams
on his hair
.
NaHaiWriMo prompt: Male
In a few days, on the first of February, National Haiku Writing Month begins. Again. Once a year, during the shortest month of the year, the shortest form of poetry is being celebrated by writing at least one haiku a day for the duration of the month. And so a dark, dismal month, in the Northern hemisphere, that is, is being transformed through haiku. (No doubt, the poets in the Southern Hemisphere see this differently. I look forward to hearing what they say… )
Once again, the world becomes quieter. A sense of awe and expectation grips the bankers, the nurses, the old age pensioners, the performers, the writers, the psychologists, the traffickers. All eyes are glued to the NaHaiWriMo panel, waiting for the day’s prompt to appear. The moment it appears, the magic unfolds. Noradrenaline flows. Nerve cell upon nerve cell get activated, electrical signals spread, transmitter substances are released, sending out tentacles of attention to gather material.
do not disturb —
gathering of poetry
in progress
What a state of mind to be in! Though some poets are more relaxed than others!
The moon, a grain of sand, the sound of the carburetor, the horse’s neighing, the blackbird’s song, waves rolling to the shore; the child’s hand, a kite, tomatoes… Whether snow, cold or warm weather, the poets are watching and waiting, fingers poised over the laptop to catch it, hold it in the palm of their hand, share it.
Will you join NaHaiWriMo? Do if you can bear the world come nearer to you; if you believe you can hear the wind’s voice; if you can let this big, big wonderful world sing to you. If not, you’ll be fine. Just watch from a distance: read what these daring poets are attempting to do, day in day out, here
Michael Dylan Welch, the founder and coordinator of the group, put together a first anthology of the group’s work in August 2012, “With Cherries on Top”. It is a PDF of astounding beauty. And so it goes,
cherries
again this insatiable need
to come into bloom
.
train whistle in the distance deer tracks
.
NaHaiWriMo prompt: transient