Tanka Sequence

 SHIFTING GEARS

between flights

of here and there

a hopping bird,

how far could I go

if I had wings?

a new plan—

the child in me

wants to believe

in fairy tales

and miracles

game on

with the squirrel

try and try again 

the feeder is the challenge

squirrel—10, me–0

spring dances her way

across the stage with small steps

slow and hesitantt

pauses and waits for winter

to take his bow and leave

another plan

doomed to lose or hyped to win

intentions are high

too long to think of a week

I look to the next hour

Red Lights

Tanka

dripping icicles

the slippery patches

on flagstones:

I navigate life's hazards

more slowly now

Modern English Tanka

Haiga

 Haiku Reality

Haibun

                                    THE GHOSTS OF BENNETT COLLEGE              

 

                                                            forgotten field–

                                                            purple loosestrife

                                                            catches the wind

 

It stands decomposing a little more each day.  With the passing seasons, wind, rain, snow, sleet, and sun have rendered their work on the walls of wood and stone.  Vacant for decades.  Once a hotel, built in 1893, a weekend respite for city folk who wanted the country air.  In 1907 a women’s finishing school and college until its closing in 1978

 

Structured in the style of Adirondack lodges, it boasted 200 rooms, wide verandas under stone archways, restful gardens and rambling paths. It gave life to the small farming community. 

 

Now, just a relic at the entrance to the village, sinking lower into the dirt.  Unchecked nature has taken over the gardens; vandals have plundered whatever could be plundered.

 

The eager faces and voices of students, the laughter and talk, the weighty discussions and gay parties.  Now only in old photos and some memories.

 

                                                                  swirling fog           

                                                                  the shadowy movement         

                                                                  of a deer

 

 Contemporary Haibun Online

Tanka Prose

                                                                                THE WALTZ     

 

He can’t dance, but there is one selection of music that stops his movements whenever the music channel plays it. He calls to me, “Come. Hurry. Listen to this.” And, we listen, sitting down, not dancing, except in our souls or wherever it is that we feel. I buy the CD, Dmitri Shostakovich’s Waltz No.2. I play it on occasion. And again we dance.

                                       swaying, twirling 

                                       in three-quarter-time

                                       in perfect step

                                       hearts together or apart

                                       the music plays on

Ribbons

                                                                  

Haiga

Failed Haiku

Haibun

THE RED DRESS

 

One holiday season I sew up a red dress to wear.  It is of fine wool, form fitting in the bodice with a flaring skirt that emphasizes my small waist.  The front neckline is high, but the back has a wide deep V, which requires that I wear a strapless bra.  Uncomfortable yes, but how else can I shine?  And I hope to shine that holiday season more than the lights on any Christmas tree.  

 

night of stars

the street lamp fizzles

and goes out

Presence

Haiku

 the New Year

on a clean, cold morning

the view is clear

Kukai, 2013