This is in response to the Twitter poetry challenge #haikuwordgame. The prompts are “patience” and “dusk.” I am behind a day for National Poetry Writing Month, so I wrote two haiku 🙂
I hope you enjoy the musical “extra” below the poetry!
Wikimedia – Public Domain
patience turns to sadness
nightingale sings for his love
in the grim dusk
at dusk he puffs his chest
he sings of his prowess
impatient for love
Welcome to Friday Fictioneers! We are a community of writers from around the world who post 100-word stories between Wednesday and Friday each week. The stories are all based on a photo prompt provided on Rochelle Wisoff-Fields’ blog. Please visit Rochelle’s blog for more information…and join us if you wish!
This week’s photo is by fellow writer Sandra Crook. Thank you, Sandra!
Photo Copyright – Sandra Crook
When We Were Young
by Jan Brown
When we were 20, we met by the river. He was fishing; I was birdwatching and practically tripped over him. He said I was the finest thing he had caught all day.
When we were 30, we bought a raft and paddled our way through whitewater rapids and waterfalls.
When we were 40, we bought a canoe and glided through still waters. We lay on the side of the river, making love under the stars.
When I was 50, I drove back to the place we met, but the river was filled with trash.
I could not scatter his ashes there.
If you missed my blog post on the Pacific “trash vortex,” (and you probably DID miss it!) you can read it here.
To read more Friday Fictioneers’ stories, click the link:
The NaPoWriMo challenge for April 26th is to write a curtal sonnet, a form invented by Gerald Manley Hopkins, an English poet and Jesuit priest. This is shorter than a regular sonnet, having only six lines in the first stanza, four in the second, plus a “half-line” at the end. Meter and rhyme, if any, are left to the poet to decide.
Song of Angels
by Jan Brown
If we left this earthly plane, if soul took flight
If we could shed our form and dance as light
If we could signal thoughts with just a blink
If we could forego sleep and drink the night
And let our white hot energy delight
Then life would be mere spectacle, I think
So let me go, and do not hold me tight
Resist my pull, and we can float away
We’ll sing the song of angels through the night
And watch the stars wink in the Milky Way
…one eternal Light
Wikimedia – CC BY-SA 3.0
sparse doves in winter
husband stays behind
to stand guard
Today’s NaPoWriMo challenge is to compose a poem inspired by the name of a sea shell. Yes, there is a sea shell called “sparse dove,” and that made me think of the sparse population of mourning doves during our frigid winter. In the fall, mourning doves begin to migrate: first the young birds born that spring/summer, then the adult females, then the males. However, some males choose to stay behind to protect their territory in order to re-establish nests the following spring in the same area. I admire their bravery; they stay in the colder climate despite the shrinking food sources and the possibility of frostbitten toes. This is because the female chose the nesting spot during courtship. Mourning doves are monogamous, so the brave male, like any good husband, will try to give her what she wants!
I’m also fond of the male mourning dove’s attitude toward equal parenting. He forages for nest-building supplies and brings them to the female, once she has chosen the spot. She then weaves the twigs into a loose circle around herself. The partnership is not consummated until the nest is built. The parents share brooding responsibilities equally, and once the newborns arrive, both mother and father produce crop milk and share feeding responsibilities.
Finally, there is no more endearing trait of the male mourning dove than his call, a yearning, melancholy cooing sound that is the reason for the species’ name. I love a man who sings to me. I really do.
Today’s NaPoWriMo challenge is to write a poem that provides a detailed description of something using at least three of the five senses. It’s recommended that we describe something we encountered or experienced today.
by Jan Brown
morning feels like the aftermath of an assault
surely someone had attacked her knees and hips
while she fitfully slept
perhaps an angry debt collector
a sour-faced enforcer or
a fundraiser for the arthritis foundation
wielding a baseball bat
the acrid odor of stale sweat
another reminder of the night’s
pain and thrashing
gives way to the sweetness
of lavender body wash
doesn’t smell at all like lavender
still it’s delicate and flowery
giving purpose to the wisps of steam
that reorganize the kinks in her tendons
taste buds waken against their will
to the dry minty medication
that melts in her mouth
a dozen more pills
to wash down with breakfast
she gives thanks to whichever greek god
created fat-free yogurt
and all the tiny morsels of mango
that lurk at the bottom of the plastic cup
she greets the world outside her window
seasonal colors waiting to be seen
but doesn’t come alive
until she hears the morning’s song
a harmonious cacophony of birds
going about the business of a warm spring day
the rhythm of lawn mowers and leaf blowers
the whistle of the train
the soulful latin jazz refrain
morning’s almost gone
but her song remains
The National Poetry Writing Month challenge today is to write a “replacement” poem. A replacement poem has elements of a “found poem,” but uses more of the poet’s own words.
We were asked to select a noun representing a tangible item (in my case, I chose “ecosystem”). Then, using found text, replace that word with one representing an intangible quality. I used the Wikipedia entry for “ecosystem,” selected five specific sentences, and replaced “ecosystem” with “happiness.” Then I built the poem around those five statements (five stanzas). I included a few other found phrases from the Wikipedia article as appropriate. I hope you find it meaningful.
Happiness is a community…
we move as many
within the one
undulating, traveling a loop
releasing it back to the group
The energy that flows through happiness…
rays of the sun
travel great distances
to nourish and delight
at the speed of light
Happiness is controlled…
by external events
by internal resources
by the passions of two
for me and you
Happiness is subject to periodic disturbances…
shooting stars of fallen dreams
black holes of despair
darkening the skies
with wretched lies
Humans exist and operate within happiness…
a diverse world of wonder
in a constant state of flux
amidst the worst adversity
requiring faith in you, in me
This is in response to the #orjay poetry prompt posted on Twitter by @orjay: “smiling eyes.”
This is in response to the February 19th NaHaiWriMo theme of the day: “baby.” It prompted me to think back to a horrible winter 32 years ago, when it was 25 degrees below zero (Farenheit) with strong gusts of wind at my mother’s graveside.
But the most wonderful nephew in the world kept us busy later at home. I remember the smell of the soy formula that he burped down the back of my burgundy tunic. I remember how he cried constantly, unless I walked him around the house, holding him up high. I remember his sweet smile when I did.
Thank you, Rob.
at the funeral
baby cries and coos
cycle of life
For all of you who have been brutally sucked into the polar vortex, I wish you warmth. Soon. Very soon. Meanwhile, I hope that this trio of haiku will resonate with you as you fight the cold and snow.
waiting out the snow — silent songbird
home and hearth
fortress of ice
over an empty heart
squirrel’s winter dwelling
under the eaves, he’s hidden
until I walk by
he catches my eye and asks
“Why are you folks in my house?”