Do falling leaves ache with the pain of letting go? Or do they revel in the freedom of floating and of the taste of earth? Did they boast of glorious colors that they wore in days before releasing their hold on life?
And the trees—do they grasp obsessively to their robes of glory, regret the day that finds them stripped, exposed and naked—vulnerable to cold and rain.
I am October now, buffeted by aging. I hurl my somethingness into the great unknown, one gift at a time. I face the imminence of winter, move beyond the sting of loss into the joy of unknown expectations. I am old but full of hope, in the springtime of new life. Beneath the soil life pulses.
Je suis depouilée
stripped bare like October trees
richness lies hidden
Photo: Victoria Slotto
*The French word depouillement means stripping. The verb depouiller is to strip. The first line of the haiku translates : I am stripped.
Happy to be able to jump in for OLN this week. I have tried to consider some of the wonderful prompts I have missed related to personal events–this one, especially, relates back to Kim’s prompt for Tuesday’s Poetics.
Photo: Labeled for reuse
I awaken this morning to temperatures of 28 degrees Fahrenheit, open the back door and breathe in the purity of crisp, fresh air. Hoar frost designs sparkle on the deck and the vegetable garden sags—leaves like tears hang from the tomato and cucumber plants, light splashes of color awash on our maple and ash trees. The glory of the cerulean sky sings joy. Reality intervenes.
blood-red leaves appear
fall gently on the pavement
Today, I’m hosting Haibun Monday at dVerse Poets. The prompt is Shimo No Koe–Voice of First Frost. Please join in. The prompt is open all week.
Of Autumn Nights
I dream of emptiness, of cinnamon,
and darkest nights infused with spice.
I wait in stillness for the rain to come.
Long before dawn, such sensuous aroma,
an open door, desiring you should come
taste bliss, taste love and cinnamon.
Such spice. Such sweetly aromatic. Come.
I have a brief break in a couple of busy months–remodeling, house guests and next Wednesday, my husband’s second back surgery–so I thought I would drop in for dVerse Quadrille this week and, next Monday, I will host Haibun for Kanzen Sakura who is dealing with an enforced break from blogging.
Some of you may recognize parts of this poem which I have adapted for a change of season and for the quadrille, in which we write a poem of exactly 44 words, which must include the word spice or a variation thereof. Please join us.
Late, perhaps, for Kim’s prompt at dVerse Poetics: SHOES (or lack thereof). Within a few minutes of each other I read an article about Harvey that mentioned so many fleeing flood waters were without shoes, and then an ad that became the title of this poem.
shoe markdowns you don’t want to miss
she had no money
she had no shoes
the sign in the washed-
out store mocked her
mocked them all
she held her baby closer
huddled on the flatboat
riding flood waters
into an unknown future
more than she could say
Image: Fox News
Mina Loy, Image by Dave Bonta, via Flickr
Labeled for Reuse
word after word arises
from the morass of her
loves losses tumble
onto blank pages
like flakes of snow
in wide open fields
the poet inhales sweet spring,
in piles of autumn
revels in creation-bliss
waits for the unknown
Welcome to another round of dVerse Quadrille, the 39th, hosted by Bjorn. A quadrille is a poem of exactly 44 words, not counting the title. This week the word that must be included in the poem itself is BLISS, in any of its forms. We hope you will join us. The pub opens at 3:00 PM EDT. The prompt is open all week.
Photo: Public Domain
Eagle Nebula Dust Pillar
Today I am horse,
surging power trampling fear—
carry me onward.
Just a lowly frog
croaking humble songs of praise,
ever mindful love.
beyond death’s darkness.
At last I’m eagle,
soaring to mountainous realms
Now I dream tomorrow.
Linking to my favorite prompt–dVerse Quadrille. Please join us with a poem of exactly 44 words, not including the title, using the word DREAM in the body of the poem. I chose an old poem from 2011 and revised it to meet the requirements of the form.
We are in the midst of a kitchen remodel so I may be slow to visit but will get around eventually.
Photo: Victoria Slotto
We stand on our deck, face north,
watch Sun rise in the east,
casting shadows on the west
flank of our garden.
This early we don’t need shade,
but shadows from our trees,
ash, maple and cherry,
practice for evening hours
when we shall yearn for shelter.
Before he sets, Sun flings
his fiery rays toward us.
Tomatoes bask in warmth,
begin to form fruit around
their fragile yellow blossoms.
Magenta lobes of the eggplant
dangle like pendulous breasts.
For our part, we unwind. Sun,
breaks through leafy branches,
casts rays through sweating glasses
of tawny chardonnay or ruddy merlot.
In the embracing shade of her boughs
I turn toward you. We watch as
Sun sighs, pulls a blanket of clouds
around his shoulders and hurls
himself over the horizon.
Photo: Victoria Slotto
Please join us at dVerse Poetics, where Lillian has us considering SHADE. And don’t forget the Haibun prompt, WABI-SABI, is open all week.