Haiku has a 5-7-5 pattern but this poem has a 7-5-8 pattern. Using “can’t” instead of “cannot” would hit the 7 mark, but I like the feel and flow of cannot. Haiku is much more complicate if you want to do it correctly but that’s not my purpose. This has a haiku feel and that’s all I’m aiming for today.
Lethargy overtakes me
The world passes by
I cannot rouse myself to care
It’s the Saturday of my winter dreams
It’s the Saturday of my winter dreams
the day that begins with fog that moves to sunshine
the day my husband can ride his bike outdoors
the day yards are being cleaned
when daffodils on the south side of the house
are readying themselves to open at any moment
It’s the Saturday of my winter dreams
when children shout outside
when my husband doesn’t close the blinds
(because he’s finished with his PlayStation game
and the reflections don’t matter for a bit)
when laundry seems a pleasure
as well as a necessity
and the sweet smell whispers, “Spring.”
It’s the Saturday of my winter dreams
the day the breeze is warm
and “wind chill” a two-word epithet
the day the beds are aired
and sheets smell clean and new.
It’s the Saturday of my winter dreams
when windows open to let in spring.
Leaves
Autumn’s flowers
Strewn along the path
When we were little, we had the orange set of Childcraft, a division of World Book Encyclopedia. Although I’ve gotten rid of many of the volumes (as they’re out of date in areas such as science), I still have the two that have classic children’s poems and stories. Here’s one of my favorites that I also read to our girls from a beautiful board book. Its rhythms are perfect for getting ready to sleep. It makes me happy just to read it again. And with that, I’m off to bed.
My husband coined the term “Noku” for poems that sound and feel like haiku, but don’t actually follow the “rules.”
I’m just back from a lovely, warm visit to Arizona, which means dealing with a pile of mail, things that have to be done around the house (laundry, for instance), work, etc. I’ll be blog visiting again as soon as possible this weekend and I hope your weekend is a blessed one.
The first leaf fell today, lacking even grace of color, to lie quiescent on the sidewalk ‘til wind-blown travel claimed it. Soon millions more will throw themselves to willing death, flaming brightly before reduced to crackling beneath feet in futile protest. Days grow shorter, nights stretch longer, nights where passion once flamed brightly, now passing also into death, unwilling on my part, kamikaze-like on yours. The fire that now burns devours all the love and leaves not even embers that soft breath could coax back to life. Autumn's harbingers Lie dying before my eyes Love once green now dead
Memorial Day, whenever celebrated, whatever called, is a day we should welcome, lest we forget those who fought and died for the freedoms we enjoy. Here’s something I wrote for a previous Memorial Day.
Above us
“In Flanders field the poppies blow…”
And grow, too
(as well they should
given our bones and flesh and blood
gone to fertilizer)
gone to grow
not peace
but yet more war
another layer of human fertilizer
above us
When will they ever learn?
No doubt
never
“Man” being what he is
But there are things worth fighting for
and so we gave our all
(and cheered those left behind
to live and grow
above us)
Spring Sunshine
I position my chair in the sunlight streaming through the front window,
the rest of the house behind me
chill in its winter-to-spring transition.
The heat soaks into my grey fleece top
gradually seeping its welcome way through my skin,
into my bones and the center of my body.
Bushes bow slightly before the wind,
waiting to shed their winter bareness for the new growth of spring,
each bare, brown sword-branch tipped with green.
On the porch, a chipmunk overlooks the buttery daffodils and fragile narcissus
ever so slowly raising their rain-battered heads
from soaked obeisance into erect beauty.
Two goldfinches swoop down, perching in the largest bush,
tiny bird-lanterns heralding the start of another Saturday
as a cloud ship moves regally through the sky ocean.
This, that and the other thing 