inside the egg chicken and egg
with each layer I become lighter
56/100 #The100DayProject #100daysnewthings
where angels rest their weary wings
12/100 #The100DayProject #100daysnewthings
there is no end to us no beginning
#followme #poetry #poems #haiku #stories #dailycreativity #light #monoku
craning over the shape of my shadow dialogues
3/100: My #haiga for the #The100DayProject #100daysnewthings #poetsofinstagram #followme #poetry #poems #haiku #monoku #stories #dailycreativity
Monoku ‘white light’ appeared as part of my haibun
Modern Haiku, 49:1, 2018
fading of the portable conscience
In Bones: a Journal for Contemporary Haiku 2017, 13, p. 79
My monoku from New Resonance 10
it happens to the best of us ocean wave
featured in My Haiku Pond: ‘a peaceful community dedicated to the appreciation of English language haiku, haiku related Poetry and Art.’
Many thanks to My Haiku Pond editors Michael Smeer and Steve Smolak for featuring my work!
A New Resonance: Emerging Voices In English-Language Haiku, edited by Jim Kacian and Dee Evetts, now in its 10th edition
first frost distilling silence
Pleased to share that my monoku:
sleepless night formatting loneliness
is now in the Haiku Society of America anthology 2016, edited by David Grayson.
(First appeared in Bones – journal for contemporary haiku no. 9 March 15th 2016 p.22 and elsewhere).
the shower head splutters Perseids
Bones: journal for contemporary haiku XI, 2016
seascape with horizon
thin walls one step at a time
washing my hands of spring rain
Walking around the old city in Augsburg, I came across wonderful images revealed by peeling plaster.
crowding the city memory lanes
This week, a terrific haiku by Melissa Allen was up for discussion at The Haiku Foundation re:Virals. Interesting commentaries looking at the poem from different perspectives. You can read the whole post with the poem and all the commentaries here. I am pleased to say mine was this week’s winner. I copy it below:
radiation leak moonlight on the fuel rods — Melissa Allen, Haiku in English: The First Hundred Years (2013)
And my take:
In current usage, the word leak refers to a variety of situations: from leaking a document and bringing into the light a secret, to taking a leak, to a wasteful dripping of water, to seepage of radiation. This poem, with its radiation leak, immediately opens up a danger zone. Step in at your peril into an image that gives rise to paralyzing fears, to the dead zones of Chernobyl, Fukushima; to the forbidden zones. Anything could happen here.
From a leak to a fireball, from the atom to the apocalyptic mushroom cloud, you could be walking into a minefield of the results of unbridled ambition and unscrupulous greed, a Faustian deal . . . Whether the leak is from a technological or scientific project, where man sees himself tirelessly bent on expanding knowledge and power over nature, finding solutions to the human problems of illness, poverty, and environmental degradation; whether hubris or dedication to the common good, here is a consequence: the spewing of poisonous material, the fall into a dark, man-made Hell.
But now the poet brings moonlight on the scene. Like a benevolent, all-seeing Eye of God, moonlight bathes the fuel rods in light we associate with understanding, with cool logic, in forgiveness. I am reminded of the Greek poet Yiannis Ritsos’ Moonlight Sonata, where moonlight hides smaller-scale follies such as showing white hair as golden, at the same time relentlessly intensifying shadows. In Allen’s poem too, moonlight is both kind and cooling, as well as relentless and permanent, not allowing the fuel rods to hide in the shadows. An image burned into the mind.
Note that the fuel rods are not spent. The young man in Ritsos’ poem too, is present all through the poem, at the end leaving full of energy, bursting into laughter as he walks away. Life continues in its boundless energy, in its perpetual flow, beyond leaks, beyond the night, beyond our human follies, beyond life itself.
sleepless night formatting loneliness
In Bones – journal for contemporary haiku no. 9 March 15th 2016 p.22
Joining the Dots
From the compensation for the demolition of his house to make way for a new road, he bought two tiny apartments, a four-poster bed, an amber komboloi, and a pendulum clock. As a child, I considered the wall-mounted, cherry wood, chiming clock to be my granddad’s most striking acquisition. I checked it continuously, comparing its time to the watch my dad had given me before going away to sea.
approaching wind knots matter
But it was the sound of it chiming the hour that stayed with me the longest. Half a century later, I can feel the deep resonance of that chime opening doors to the past.
let’s say the map shrinks afterwards
In Haibun Today, 10: 1, 2017
My poem on tinywords yesterday:
river tides where have I been
(I almost missed it!)
Thanks to the tinywords team for the beautiful background image.
missing from the rainbow burnt umber