.
roasting beetroot —
from my daughter’s recipe
a dash of balsamic
.
NaHaiWriMo prompt: vegetable
.
.
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
.
city in winter –
loneliness sweeps through
the terraces
.
NaHaiWriMo prompt: home(s)
soul searching –
in my heart, a female cell
changes pace
NaHaiWriMo prompt: female
Trafalgar Square –
Nelson’s pigeons
in retreat
.
NaHaiWriMo prompt: statue
bobbing caïques
a fisherman mends
his nets
.
(where I’d love to be)
……
.
floating on a bed of snow flu
.
(where I am: 3rd day of flu!)
.
NaHaiWriMo prompt: favorite place
the moment I learnt
it’s summer Down Under –
hourglass
.
NaHaiWriMo prompt: summer
rumours –
rush of water
over stone
.
NaHaiWriMo prompt: stone
wintry showers
a barefoot child smiles
for the camera
.
NaHaiWriMo prompt: storm
grilled fish —
reducing the moon’s glare
.
NaHaiWriMo prompt: favorite food
falling snow
the doll’s dress
soaking wet
.
NaHaiWriMo prompt: extreme
chicken broth
the slow unravelling
of time
.
In Notes from the Gean 15: January 2013
.
forget-me-nots
last year’s
haiku
.
In Frogpond, 35:3, Autumn 2012
spit polishing
her scuffed shoes –
war child
.
NaHaiWriMo prompt: shoes
.
lavender moon the weight of a butterfly
.
NaHaiWriMo prompt: favorite color
1
new year
his hand still
on hers
2
measure of love –
sharing her last
almonds
.
NaHaiWriMo prompt: Love
.
casting through the fog dark shadow
. NaHaiWriMo prompt: fog
.
after the crunch of snow underfoot my ears
.
NaHaiWriMo prompt: season related
a hermit crab
outgrows its shell…
melting ice
.
NaHaiWriMo prompt: ice
first haiku
soothing fragrance
of green tea
Sharing my own very first haiku of the day, written for the first NaHaiWriMo prompt of the year, ‘something green,’ set by Violette Rose-Jones