Such a lovely spring day to be in a park. An old couple sit on a park bench. The man leans on his cane, watching his life partner talk to the birds. Gnarled fingers toss seeds to the pigeons, then places a plastic bowl filled with seeds under the bench where grateful sparrows wait.
cycling by the park boy holding tight, kite on a string
cycling by the park
child hangs on the monkey bar
squeak of swings
boy holding tight,
hand on her swollen belly
kite on a string
dancing on blue canvas
how the wind sings!
Welcome at a new episode of Heeding Haiku With … Recently I discovered the beauty of Persian (nowadays Iranian) poetry through an article I read. I wonder if you know how beautiful the poetry is of Persia. Maybe you know Rumi or Hafiz, both are renown Persian poets and every Iranian can recite for example the poems by Hafiz. The Iranian people lives in symbiosis with the poetry of Hafiz and they even use his poems to get answers on questions they have.
This week I love to challenge you to create a haiku inspired (or distilled) from a poem by Hafiz.
The Diamond Takes Shape
Have become so skilled with
The human voice
They could give a brilliant discourse
About freedom and God
And an unsighted man nearby might
Even begin applauding with
I just heard jewels fall from a Great…
How interesting Kristjaan! I think I wrote the existentialist way in my last Carpe Diem post 😉 … and my favorit in this field is Sören Kierkegaard – the Danish philosopher. He was christian though and I am not captured by any religion. He was wise, I think. About nature … he didn’t think humans were one with the nature. He thought humans relate to nature. I think like that too. And as written before … humans … every man and woman … is their actions. They are NOT their characteristics … like skin color, religion, ethnic group, ….
the naked you
dressed in camouflage
a snake in paradise
Talking about philosophy like this … you must be a sincere human … not a fake one … Fakes are not worthy talking philosophy. Fakes have lost their confidence! That’s a fact!
Honesty goes with philosophy – life philosophy – the ethical way – only way.
From the large jug, drink the wine of Unity,
So that from your heart you can wash away the futility of life’s grief.
But like this large jug, still keep the heart expansive.
Why would you want to keep the heart captive, like an unopened bottle
With your mouth full of wine, you are selfless
And will never boast of your own abilities again.
Be like the humble stone at your feet rather than striving to be like a
Sublime cloud: the more you mix colors of deceit, the more colorless
your ragged wet coat will get.
Connect the heart to the wine, so that it has body,
Then cut off the neck of hypocrisy and piety of this new man.
Be like Hafiz: Get up and make an effort. Don’t lie around like a bum.
He who throws himself at the Beloved’s feet is like a workhorse and will
be rewarded with boundless pastures and eternal rest.
Tossing and turning her thoughts kept her up. She finally gave in and started writing her thoughts. Today was International Women’s Day and although she often jokes that it is the world getting prepared to wish her Happy Birthday the following day, it means a lot to her. She thought of her mother, her grandmother, her teachers and amazing women who taught her so much. And started writing this…
SHE taught me so much and more…
SHE taught me so much!
she taught me that crying for help
someone would be there always
she taught me touching and hugging
makes it [almost] all go away
she taught me a smile
will get me so much more
and a polite thank you too
she taught me fashion
from head to toe, and that
beauty at any age
must never be rationed
she taught me to read and write
and with so much patience
to read the words ever slowly
that told so many stories
she encouraged me to tell
the stories of those who could not speak
to trust in my pen
and write forgotten tales
she taught me to laugh out loud
flaunt my senseless essence
but also to know when to be quiet
when conflict was present
she taught me to believe
in myself and that would take me far
she taught me love can be beautiful
if only I loved myself more by far
she taught me the gift of giving
and how it returned with so much more
she taught me that killing one with kindness
was better than fighting any day
she taught me to see those who suffer
but not with my eyes
to hear with my heart
and care with my soul
she taught me to be strong
have always carried burdens
for eons of time
she taught me the shadow
at times is a safer place to lead
to model what most speak
is learned so much more
she taught me never to give up
to learn each and every day
was like prevention
chasing the demons away
she taught me chubby or skinny
are women’s distinct beauty
in all different shapes
she taught me to pray
and never lose hope
if ever I went astray
the Great Spirit was there
she taught me diligence
and hard work
the fuel in meeting my goals
that the journey takes paths
different for each and everyone
she taught me the darkness
was a sign to stop and rest
to lick my old wounds
and heal in good time
the sun would appear
when my scars would form
each and every one
who have touched me
along the way have taught me!
that I am woman, and yes,
I am different than man
and so very much more
and proud to be woman!
(c) Clr ‘157Amma, Mom, GrandMaman
not a day goes by
looking up at the sky – without
I have also been watching old war movies where masses revolt in the name of solidarity and fairness. This makes me think of my encounters with workplace disputes in the past 30 years…yes, a little more than 30 but let’s leave it at that out of vanity. [snickers]
behind their masks
pretense of brotherhood
behind their masks
screaming justice for all
texture of envy
pretense of brotherhood
all for one, one for all
lusting for power
Are there ever winners in workplace disputes? What does management seek? What does staff want? Are there a few isolated incidents or has it become an unhealthy workplace environment? There are never any easy answers. Each side holds his cards closely to the chest and the games ensue.
I don’t think things have changed that much since the ‘70’s. Well, yes, for women they have…indeed they certainly have even if there is still room to improve but that is life is it not?
Is it not our goal to always push ourselves to be the best person that we are? Is it not a desire to personally reach some form of clarity, enlightenment…nirvana? Well, okay, that is a bit much but older readers will certainly be bobbing their heads and agree that that is really all one can do…the best that you can. Ultimately, ask yourself, really, are you doing the best that you feel you really can? If someone would offer you a 40% increase in salary to do better, what would you change? That answer will say a lot…
This morning I read this prompt hoping to have inspiration for the entire day. My intention was to write something later in the week after my work shift late in the night. But, the words of our host, Chèvrefeuille already teased my muse that I had to write something before I left for work.
[“What has this to do with the poem for today? Well … what can I say? In the peom of today Rumi is speaking about “existence” and with that came my “revalation” to tell you a little bit about existentialism, because that was the first thing I thought about. Maybe that’s just a coincedence, because I am reading Nietzsche’s “Also Sprach Zarathustra” at the moment, one of Nietzsche’s most famous works. And existence triggered me to look at existentialism …¸”
our host has written a beautiful haiku in response to this theme:
a game of chess played in the shadow of lion banners – the wind unseen
This reminded me when I chant in the spring, summer and autumn, I seem to see the trees, flowers and grass responding to my words as I walk. Here is my contribution to this post:
nature’s pulse (haibun)
Being a water sign she has always felt closely related to the water. As a teenager, she remembers writing an essay about swimming on Lake Champlain where she spent many summers in Vermont. But this time, she did not swim across to the point of the island to rest on the floating pier. This time, she just swam until she could no longer keep her head above water and her favourite mode of swimming was under water. In her essay, she writes how she gets close to the fish, the rocks the discarded bottle at the bottom of the lake. The fish swim past her but some swim along her and she becomes one with the water.
The naïve part of the essay was that she let herself drown. She was too young to realize that she didn’t have to drown to be part of the water and nature. She knows now when she is sailing on a catamaran, she is part of the wind with her jib, with the hull, part of the swell of the water.
Just as when she swam underwater, she is part of more than the water, even when she is sitting on a rock by the riverside she is part of the trees and the sun that dries her cheeks…
by the riverside water splashes on her feet minnows delight
rumble of rapids gulls’ screaming – emotions freed to her heartbeat cascading with intention spilling over dams
Far from original and lacking imagination, she crosses off the lines and taps her pen rhythmically staring out her patio window. It was as if the bare branches of the elm tree could give her a sign or perhaps it was the buzz of the traffic that was humming her verses. Tap tap tap, she stared and yet she did not see anything outside that window. She was in her own world, the pen stopped tilting, her breathing slowed and who knows where she was. Perhaps she was in the land of Calliope and Thalia filling her mind with farfetched narratives she could later interpret with her own voice.
A car honks; her pen drops from the loud intrusion and brings her back from her brief reverie. Her mind goes back to a place she so enjoys. Feelings of boredom and helplessness feed her.. She sighs and notices her cat has awakened by her sudden movement. She stretches her paws touching her mistress’ pen. Watching it roll off the table both the cat and she just stare a moment, both too comfortable in their relaxed positions.
She chuckles at the silliness of this moment and strokes the soft, long fur of her friend; leaning to pick up her pen, she meets a flash…a fleeting thought that guides her pen back to her notebook.
“The old woman hugged her thin wool coat around her and stopped at the red light. She looked to her right and saw a little girl with blonde curly locks framing her chubby face. The little girl looked at her and smiled. Her sparkling blue eyes smiled even more. The woman was surprised since most people gave her dirty looks or pitying glances. This little girl did not seem to see her the way adults did.
The light turned green and people stepped off the sidewalk to cross and the little girl jumps onto the street squealing with delight, “We are going to see Nana! Hurry, Mummy!” She pulls on her mother’s hand with purpose.
People brush by the old woman with privileged impatience; she cannot seem to find the energy to move her legs. She stares at the little girl and her words linger bringing her back to a place she has not visited in a long time
one single tear
giggles and bubblegum
drop on her cheek”
Daily Moments – Writing process – Haibun March 5, 2017