HAIKU
On arrival
the long-loved and rarely -heard
whippoorwill
mocker to the wire
then to a nearby scrub oak
calls - but no answer
early summer
outside in my gowntail
just me and the birds
closing my journal
I spy a cardinal
pecking in the leaves
gray roadrunner
scurrying past our condo
then back to the woods
CINQUAIN
Stupid
move: with my hand,
I check inside my shoes
in case a Texas scorpion
crawled in.
Locusts,
like tree rattlers,
season the North Texas
air. Now and then a roadrunner
speeds by.
Later, y'all! pl
Showing posts with label haiku. Show all posts
Showing posts with label haiku. Show all posts
Saturday, July 11, 2009
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
Today I broke a hundred
Meaning, I composed my one hundredth piece of writing for 2009.
Original riddle ( I hope; I haven't seen it anywhere else):
How can a poem be written, submitted and published all in the same day?
Answer: _ _ _ _
#99 - HAIKU
seventy-third year
picking my first bouquet
of dandelion blooms
[c patlaster 09]
#100 - HAIKU
after watering
a vase of dandelion
blooms in the window
[c patlaster 09]
#101 - HAIKU
still a week of June
seven-thirty CST
eighty-six degrees
[c patlaster 09]
Original riddle ( I hope; I haven't seen it anywhere else):
How can a poem be written, submitted and published all in the same day?
Answer: _ _ _ _
#99 - HAIKU
seventy-third year
picking my first bouquet
of dandelion blooms
[c patlaster 09]
#100 - HAIKU
after watering
a vase of dandelion
blooms in the window
[c patlaster 09]
#101 - HAIKU
still a week of June
seven-thirty CST
eighty-six degrees
[c patlaster 09]
Monday, June 1, 2009
Jottings from last week's journal
DOG breeds I've never heard of: "basenji" and "Chinese hairless crested."
SEVENTY-seven soldiers with Arkansas roots have died in the U.S.'s wars: 70 in Iraq and seven in Afghanistan, according to reporter Robert J. Smith, Arkansas Democrat Gazette.
BIO from an obit: "He (age 81 at death) was born...in the original log house built by his great-great-grandfather Williams in 1838 in northwest Bradley Co."
Another BIO from another obit: "J. (79) loved her children and grandchildren (don't we all!) and often told them, 'I love you.' When they [answered] 'I love you more,' she ... replie[d], 'No, you couldn't.'"
PURCHASE: New In Town DVD with Renee Zellweger.
A malapropism: "required taste," for "acquired taste." - Hagar The Horrible comic strip.
A haiku: " burble of chickens/ adds to the bird chatter/ this late May morning."
SEVENTY-seven soldiers with Arkansas roots have died in the U.S.'s wars: 70 in Iraq and seven in Afghanistan, according to reporter Robert J. Smith, Arkansas Democrat Gazette.
BIO from an obit: "He (age 81 at death) was born...in the original log house built by his great-great-grandfather Williams in 1838 in northwest Bradley Co."
Another BIO from another obit: "J. (79) loved her children and grandchildren (don't we all!) and often told them, 'I love you.' When they [answered] 'I love you more,' she ... replie[d], 'No, you couldn't.'"
PURCHASE: New In Town DVD with Renee Zellweger.
A malapropism: "required taste," for "acquired taste." - Hagar The Horrible comic strip.
A haiku: " burble of chickens/ adds to the bird chatter/ this late May morning."
Sunday, May 17, 2009
Today - a blank verse poem and two haiku
Today, I've lopped and clipped and sawed until
another stack of limbs and branches -- red
bud and euonymous, forsythia --
lay all apile. I moved a 10 foot log,
a hollow cedar piece my brother found
and brought to me. Three sodden rugs I hung,
and found a slew of fishing worms beneath,
which I tossed -- one by one -- onto the grass
where they could bury up in dark of dirt.
Inside, I watched a bright red cardinal
perch on the ironstone dish to feed, and then
a peckerwood with crimson head flew in
and grabbed a seed. Brown thrasher stopped, then blue
jay -- each preceded each so only one
was foremost at a time, resembling
a slide show on this mid-May afternoon. [c patlaster, 2009]
rush hour traffic ~
in momentary silence
the sound of a goose [c patlaster, 2009]
chasing
the noisy woodpecker
from gutter downspout [c patlaster, 2009]
another stack of limbs and branches -- red
bud and euonymous, forsythia --
lay all apile. I moved a 10 foot log,
a hollow cedar piece my brother found
and brought to me. Three sodden rugs I hung,
and found a slew of fishing worms beneath,
which I tossed -- one by one -- onto the grass
where they could bury up in dark of dirt.
Inside, I watched a bright red cardinal
perch on the ironstone dish to feed, and then
a peckerwood with crimson head flew in
and grabbed a seed. Brown thrasher stopped, then blue
jay -- each preceded each so only one
was foremost at a time, resembling
a slide show on this mid-May afternoon. [c patlaster, 2009]
rush hour traffic ~
in momentary silence
the sound of a goose [c patlaster, 2009]
chasing
the noisy woodpecker
from gutter downspout [c patlaster, 2009]
Monday, March 16, 2009
On my way to the mountains
In 18 hours, I'll be snuggily ensconced in the Spring Garden room at Dairy Hollow's Writers' Colony, Eureka Springs, AR. It will be my home for fourteen days. My goal is to finish this forever-in-progress novel I've been at for ten or so years. Since I failed to finish it during 2008,I'll try again.
It will be spring by the time my residency is over, so here are some anticipatory poems.
"pear-motif house flag/ furls in the gentle March breeze/ green shoots in dead leaves".
"scraggly plant/ rescued by mother-in-law's/ green thumb and new dirt"
"the Big Dipper/ spills into the smaller one/ last night at the lake"
"Easter thunderstorm/ does yellow rainwater mean/ the pollen's gone?"
The luck o' the Irish to each of you.
It will be spring by the time my residency is over, so here are some anticipatory poems.
"pear-motif house flag/ furls in the gentle March breeze/ green shoots in dead leaves".
"scraggly plant/ rescued by mother-in-law's/ green thumb and new dirt"
"the Big Dipper/ spills into the smaller one/ last night at the lake"
"Easter thunderstorm/ does yellow rainwater mean/ the pollen's gone?"
The luck o' the Irish to each of you.
Friday, March 6, 2009
March 6 of various years: haiku booklet entries
the sun catcher
in an east window sparkles
this winter morning
~~ from sweetness of the apple (2009)
before daffodil
or purple martin
killer tornado
~~from connecting our houses (1997)
(co-author, Dot McLaughlin, NJ)
two feet of snow there
yet the geese fly northward
early March dawn
~~from along the pasture fence (2005)
~~publ. in the premier edition
of Hermitage (Romania, 2004)
a gray-haired bagger
she asks the 30-something
if he needs help out
~~from Measuring March (2003)
basking in the sun
shedding one pair of socks ...
and then another
~~from lighting a candle (2008)
~~publ. in Haiku Headlines
(Jan 2006)
in an east window sparkles
this winter morning
~~ from sweetness of the apple (2009)
before daffodil
or purple martin
killer tornado
~~from connecting our houses (1997)
(co-author, Dot McLaughlin, NJ)
two feet of snow there
yet the geese fly northward
early March dawn
~~from along the pasture fence (2005)
~~publ. in the premier edition
of Hermitage (Romania, 2004)
a gray-haired bagger
she asks the 30-something
if he needs help out
~~from Measuring March (2003)
basking in the sun
shedding one pair of socks ...
and then another
~~from lighting a candle (2008)
~~publ. in Haiku Headlines
(Jan 2006)
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