poem: still gets me home

walking home

by the ugliest way

still gets me home

poem: dusty guitar

the dusty guitar
leaning against the TV
by a well-worn remote

Sad, isn’t it? OK, more reading and guitar playing, and less TV-watching, is on the agenda.

moon viewing

Two haiku I wrote at the autumn moon-viewing at the Portland Japanese Garden:

melancholy flute -
sunset reflected like fire
in distant windows

eyes closed -
murmuring voices
and the piercing flute

Can you tell I enjoyed the shakuhachi flute music? :-) The koto playing was amazing too.

The night was clear so it got dark quickly, even with the full moon. Resting my camera on a bamboo railing I was able to take a long-exposure picture of the path:

A hand-held long exposure of a five level lantern, just for fun:

poem: november roses

november roses,
still blooming
as the maple leaves
gently fall
on the old broken birdhouse

(or as a haiku)

november roses
bloom as the maple leaves fall
on the old birdhouse

poem: their journey withered

heron’s cry –
in the falling darkness
two blossoms

autumn thunder, evening
a branch trembles
as crow goes wandering
the petals alight
on mountain snow

heat-faded remains of daffodils,
their journey withered
in inches

Snow comes early in the mountains, but dried flower petals retain the memory of summer’s heat. And everything has its own journey to make, whether long or short.

I linked this poem to the readwritepoem blog, where there is a weekly poetry “prompt” inviting people to submit poems on a new theme each week. This week’s theme was giving up control, writing a poem by pulling randomly from a bag of words that had been cut up from a different source — another poem, a newspaper article, or even a memo from the boss at work :-).

I randomly selected words from some of my favorite haiku from Basho. Here they are as I pulled them from the bag (highlighting the phrases that I used for my poem):

heron’s cry falling darkness two blossoms field echo lightning above nightfall temple autumn thunder evening branch trembles wandering goes crow petal alights mountain snow leaves shimmering heat faded remain daffodils journey withered inches dead silence one into perfect fragrant enough waterfall’s rose barely dried bells sick first bend dream grass stabs

Then all I did was add some line breaks and a few tweaks for grammar. If you are going to try to make a poem from words pulled from a bag, you could do worse than starting with Basho’s words!

(You can read other poets’ submissions on the theme at the readwritepoem blog too.)