Haibun

Concierto de Ajuanuaz   

an ekphrastic haibun  

 

A boy begins to lose his sight at three years of age, eventually becoming totally blind.  He studies musical braille, learns the piano, the violin, the guitar.  He composes for each, becomes known and helps to elevate the guitar to an essential orchestral instrument. 

 

perfumed paseos

sweeping crescendos

from his guitar

 

trickling fountains

a cool spray to taste

what cannot be seen

 

the Garden Aranjuaz

rising melodies

in the fragrances

 

Juaquin Rodrigo 

Born:  November 22, Sagunto, Valencia, Spain

Died:  July 6, 1999, Madrid, Spain

Cattails

 

Haiku Sequence

     SIESTA IN SEVI LLE

                                                                  the Giralda tower,

                                                            shimmering in the heat—

                                                            the empty streets

 

                                                            chinks of light

                                                            slipping through the slatted blinds—

                                                            click of the fan

 

                                                            sweat beads up—

                                                            thinking of Santa Cruz

                                                            and strolling guitars

 

                                                            sliding an ice cube

                                                            around my neck and shoulders

                                                            waiting for dusk

                                                          

Stylus Poetry Journal

 

                                                             

Tanka

I try with words
or with paint and brush
to capture my world
 inadequate the results
no matter the feelings

The Art of Tanka

Tanka

the family table

all the stains and scratches

under a fancy cloth;

how can I remove memories

left by this who have gone?

Ash Moon Anthology

Haiga

 Haiaga: Black & White

Tanka

 small worries

the stuff of everyday

set aside

leaf buds forming

on every tree and bush

Modern English Tanka

Haiga

Failed Haiku

Tanka Prose

 BREAKFAST AT THE DINER

 

When the craving hits, there is no ignoring it. Be it a sweltering day in July or a sleety one in February, we are off to the diner for waffles. Toasted frozen waffles are a poor substitute. Half the pleasure in diner waffles is the diner. Mid-morning is the best time.  The early risers, the got-to get-to- work on timers, the quick coffee and donut-to-go goers have come and gone. We are the lingerers, the no planners, the no rush retirees. 

 

The diner, the third since the first one appeared on the site in 1929, is a long, low building and chrome shiny with dark red booths and counter stools.  Juke-boxes, although no longer working, display the songs of fifty years ago.  

 

We get a booth, and coffee is poured even before we settle in.  The order:  Belgium waffles, darkly toasted with bananas and walnuts, a side of bacon, extra crisp, and keep the coffee coming. 

 

daily pleasures

need not the deep pockets

of the rich

just an appetite to enjoy

all that’s on life’s menu   

 DRIFTING SANDS