Haiku challenge: Gem & Flame

Ronovan’s challenge this week is a rich vein of fiery images.

Photo ©Ralph Zufferey


There are gems in fire

flame brilliants, ruby red

garnet promises.


Flame in the west dies

sun sinks as twilight stars rise

gems cast in night’s sea.


Gem on a finger

is this love’s undying flame

or just a bright rock?



100 word story: Death of the sun

Vitrail: Notre Dame de l’Epine


On the rim of this last crepuscule, the flame-feathered sun sinks into night’s black maw, indifferent to the fate of the puny earth. When the jaws snap shut, locking down the last night across the planetary sky, there will be no more wrestling at dawn with the iron-bolted trap. The fingers, that since the first dawn have prised apart the bright horizon from the night, catch dead asteroids to toss among the stars. Fiery wings plunge into the hollow blackness beyond the sky, where space smothers all light, and the howling astral winds blow celestial feathers and flames into oblivion.



Unique in his oneness the robin sings,
Taking no cues, no clues
Or fashionable trills and frills,
He pours his heart’s song
Into the ubiquitous wind,
Raising his throat,
Feathered fire,
To the one sun
In the single, world-arching sky.
The notes flow,
A stream, clear as a mountain source,
From this first and only and forever bird,
To his one and only love.

Photo credit
©Brian Robert Marshall

Moon magic

This morning we woke to a beautiful sky. In my six o’clock state I barely registered it before going back to sleep, but husband was inspired enough to take a pic. Not brilliant because it’s a rubbish camera, but the sky really was hazy like that, and the moon really did shine yellow with light reflected from the sun.


In the calm of early morning
When the sky’s suffused with mellow golden light
The sun is barely over the world’s rim
And the earth retains the memory of the night.
Turning slowly from the clinging dark
The earth rolls and draws across the lightening sky
A yellow moon as bright as a winter sun
That shines onto the bed where I still lie.
If only I could hold it in my heart
The subtle magic that transforms this urban scene
Pouring soothing silver over every wound
As if the years of pain had never been.

South Wind


Wind from the south
Gusting, scorching
Scratches the blue from the sky
With flails of sand
Whipped from the dunes
Of sun-dazzled deserts.
Carries the flavours
Of pines and perfumes
Piquant and pungent
Of exotic cuisine
And the babble of voices
In a foreign tongue.
A soft sea
Swells in its arms
Warm with the touch of the sun
Rocking with barques
Red and blue
And the brilliant billowing
White of their sails.
Hot wind
Unsettling amid
This northern green
Bending cool trees
Drying and cracking
The dark humid earth
Swirling its sandy skirts
And stirring the past
Deep hidden beneath the roses.
Summer wind
Gusts through the blossom
Red tears falling
On a heart ripped open wide.
Brash sunlight beams
On the windswept memories
Of that last summer
Before you went away.