Tuesday, September 19, 2017

Tanka Sequence


                                                                Falling 

                                                     my dreamer’s dream
                                                     the fluff of fairy tales
                                                     and happy endings;
                                                     the fresh fragrance of you
                                                     like a May morning after rain

                                                     all that I feel
                                                     a lovely anguish
                                                     and a longing
                                                     relieved only by your kiss
                                                     and your arms encircling me

                                                     cheek touching cheek
                                                     your hand firm on my back               
                                                     guides me as we dance;
                                                     our hearts falling
                                                     into the same rhythm

Red Lights

Friday, September 8, 2017

Senryu



road detour
turning off the GPS
to get lost






three hour fire log
romantic ambience
on a timer







antique car show
cool cars
hot prices

Living Senryu-
Cattails
Living Senryu


Sunday, August 20, 2017

Tanka Prose


MY COMEBACK ROSES 

We have a garden and I have become, by necessity, a gardener.  Our move to the country to a house with over an acre of land meant some gardening had to be done. With books, a spade, and the knowledgeable voice of a local nurseryman we plant shrubs, grasses, flowers.

                                                       dirt under my nails
                                                       I trade pink polish
                                                       for peonies
                                                       sweeter and longer lasting
                                                       than any manicure

Success with daisies, phlox, black-eyed susans, irises, spirea and many shrubs and annuals have swelled my head. I’m a gardener! I’ll plant roses next. Pooh on all the doubters who say they are hard to grow. The roses do well that summer and survive the harsh winter, leafing  up beautifully in the spring. Then, catastrophe. The leaves are full of pin holes and getting brown. Buds are shriveled. Aphids! That's what the nurseryman tells me.  I go on the attack, spray heavily and wait one week. Two weeks. One morning I see new leaves growing. By mid-July new buds have formed. I spray again and wait.

                                                         a rose bouquet
                                                         sprinkled with morning dew
                                                         in bare hands
                                                         ignoring the thorns and pricks
                                                         and fresh drops of blood
Haibun Today, June 2017


Thursday, August 10, 2017

Haiga






A Hundred Gourds

Friday, July 21, 2017

Haiku


fire-red lilies
a radiating heat
at sunset

between
the swelling sound of crickets
pressing heat

a misty beach walk
following the footprints
of gulls

Living Haiku Anthology
HSA Anthology 2002
Ambrosia

Sunday, July 9, 2017

Haiga





publish in Cattails


Friday, June 23, 2017

Tanka Prose



 BETWEEN THE BRICKS    
 
Poor inchworm. Back and forth across the tabletop. Down a table leg.  Halfway, it turns and climbs up again. Crosses the top once more to another leg.

                                                    there was a time
                                                    when I had to choose
                                                    love or adventure
                                                           was it luck or wisdom
                                                           that my choice gave me both?


The little worm takes a leap with its invisible thread, nearly reaching the bottom. Continues on, finally reaching the ground, crawls away. I lose sight of it when it disappears in a crack.

                                                   bird calls and wind
                                                   the shuffling of leaves 
                                                   the shuffling of time
                                                           what I did and did not do
                                                            and where I’ll be tomorrow  

Haibun Today, Tanka Prose,
March 2017