The latest painting to be inspired by was this portrait by Augustus John. I hadn’t heard of the marquesa, but after reading her story, I think this is a pretty sensitive portrait.
You can read my poem and the other selected poems here.
Tag: haibun
Haibun for the last day of summer
This haibun is for the dverse prompt.
Last day of summer and we walk a path never taken before that dips and rises between small fields, a vineyard and valleys full of trees. We walk in cart ruts perhaps centuries old, and fat glossy hens stride through the hedgerows. A ratter trots ahead companionably from the farm where a mother holds a baby up to watch. This world is a place of quiet beneath sky billowed with great cloud galleons and the only sound the dry rustling of wind in the papery corn leaves.
summer fades
old gold in a velvet case
forgotten
Haibun: balance
There is always a list to be made of positives and negatives. On one side: the fine day, the peace and quiet, the bills all paid and the roof mended; all I love have their heads above water
time suspended
the beat of a blackbird’s song
nothing falls but peace
on the other: time passing, life’s tide ebbing, weariness in the bones and of ever seeing change in the world, horror piling on horror and time passing. Some days the balance tips to the darkness, and even the calm bright meadow is a minefield
bird sings
the stone in my heart
is cold
Haibun for night beauty
after the heat and the thickening cloud the night rain pounded dry earth’s skin taut as a drum and we closed the shutters to keep it out. Later when silence returned and the heat, I got out of bed to open the shutters, let in the cool air, and gasped at the unexpected sight of such a crowd of stars
behind grey billows
flimsy intangible screen
stretches space the stars
Haibun for a good question—why?
I sat down at my desk this morning, opened my computer, went to the file of my WIP and opened that. I wrote a single phrase and stopped. It gets harder to justify the time and emotional energy. Poetry at least is part of the heart. No expectations. It just is.
cool breeze damp grass
white flowers soft clouds a world
where things live and die
Haibun for heavy heart
The suffocating heat has gone on too long. The trees are suffering, leaves dropping and the barrage on the stream has reduced it to a trickle. I put out water for birds and animals, and biscuits for the old abandoned dog that was wandering the lane yesterday, too scared to be cajoled. The sun is merciless, but in a few days we will have rain. In a few days, will we be any kinder?
sky pulses
cockcrow the only bird voice
insects engine-throb
News bulletin: fait divers
On Saturday night, for the first time in this neighbourhood, probably because of the Covid restrictions regarding taking holidays, there was a big family gathering about half a mile along the lane. We heard the music, French yéyé from the 1960s and 70s, before our evening dog walk took us past the house, where we saw the cars in the driveway, the floodlit tables outside, with dozens of people from tiny tots to grandparents.
Later, from half a mile away, we heard them singing. The entertainment climaxed around midnight with Bella Ciao, the whole song, and a rousing final chorus that set the dogs off, reminding us that we live in a département where a sizeable percentage of the population claims Italian origins.
owls listen bemused
minnow-moths shoal in the light
human partying
Haibun for a (very) hot day
Yesterday, taking down the laundry from the line, I burnt the back of my hand on a metal trouser button. It was like touching a pan in the oven by accident. Today I have a red blister. Today, the sun was even hotter. Tonight, I will watch for shooting stars and wish for a better world.
evening sky swoops
a bird-fish of grey cloud
water-rippled sand
Haibun for the idea of a birthday
For the dverse prompt.
Perhaps it was a special day once, I forget, and for as long as I can remember, it has not had much significance. A smile, a gift and a cake. What more was there? Special celebrations with guests and noise have always been collective not individual, whatever that says about me and how I was brought up. I prefer it that way.
chicks hatch fly
the sky as bright for all
as wide the ocean
Haibun for a moment in time
For the dverse prompt.
Photo ©Patrick Nouhailler’s
I took the bus to Paris. I’d always said I would get there and I did. It was the beginning of July, and I arrived from London with one bag, first job as replacement staff for the summer holidays. As soon as I stepped out of the Métro at Boulevard Voltaire and asked a gendarme for directions, I knew I wasn’t going back. And I didn’t.
Heat and cafés
smells of pastis and coffee
endless summer
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