On writing poetry

 

I write a poem about a falling leaf

and how it is a metaphor for life,

which is the same as being a metaphor for death.

I say that the leaf has had its time

and drifts into compost

cosying and cocooning tender seeds as it decomposes.

 

And I say that the leaf leaves behind

a bud on the branch that will burst

into a new leaf in the spring.

I say that the leaf is dead,

not pretending, or gone to a ‘better place’,

it has gone to make way for new life.

There is no place where leaves go when they have had their time,

except back to the earth.

As we will.

 

I read the poem I have written

and the concept seems clear to me.

The words string together coherently,

and there are no spelling mistakes.

I sigh.

Shite poem.

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Haiku challenge: Answer & Question

For Ronovan’s weekly prompt.

 

If the answer is

sun moon stars a budding rose

what is the question?

 

Red leaf

For the Secret Keeper’s five word prompt.

LEAF | HOME | ALTER | LIGHT | FRONT

 

A red leaf drifts home

in the changing light

from day to night,

and peace and happiness slump

like weary faces,

letting the façade slip.

 

The night will be cold,

the winter long,

and who knows if the spring

will remember to return.

 

 

 

Listening for lost parents

 

In the dark, brush of wings,

an owl a message brings,

sound of your voices springs, shivers skin

 

They sing across the sky,

I feel them pass, they fly,

no need for wings; I cry still today.

Mothers

 

Beneath the moon, a rose runs,

a storm of petals sprayed from my mother’s fingers.

I watch her go in the purple rain—

spring rises in her steps.

Light wind on my skin,

sunshine on the sea;

dreams live on after death.

 

 

 

These nights

 

These nights are silent white

with frost and silver light

of moon that shines so bright through dark trees.

Haiku: equality

Last poem before I fall asleep. For Frank Tassone’s weekly haikai challenge.

birds flock flock flies all

in tune in wing together—

sky-full of beauty.