rising on the morn
moon on the hunt for fullness
deer ever watchful
This haiku is my response to Frank Tassone’s #Haikai Challenge #108: Hunter’s Moon (next full moon (nochi no tsuki)). “nochi no tsuki” translates as “next full moon,”
a kigo associated with the full moon after the harvest moon.
Hunter’s Moon, October 24, 2018
(click each image for larger view in new tab)
Sounds of Silence
Gone, and sorely missed.
Since that first day of instability,
inability to navigate
a straight line, and its week-long
recovery. Everything spinning,
until inner ear cleared. Silence,
once held dear, replaced
by constant ringing, bringing
this listener to his knees.
He’s not known a quiet moment, since.
OctPoWriMo 2019 offers Silence as a prompt for Day 11. Around 1990, an inner ear infection had me laid up for a week, my equilibrium totally shot. Since then, I have had non-stop tinnitus in my left ear, some days worse than others. This week has been particularly bad.
Will a wet summer mean a burst of color
for Ozark hills familiar with drab autumns?
Clouds more frequent, but blue skies,
still, in these shorter days of lower sun.
The sycamores seem to measure
the light, their yellow the first to show.
Without a frost to say otherwise, green
clings to maple, oak, and hickory.
No monarchs in sight as the milkweed
goes to seed, but the season will not be rushed.
Back in Buffalo, I’d be taking photos of peak fall foliage around Columbus Day. A week later could be too late, with colors fading. There’s nothing here yet, in Missouri, but our first frost of the season is in this weekend’s forecast. Fingers crossed.
Images (top to bottom)
Sycamore starting to change on Moreau River (04 Oct 2019)
Milkweed, bank-side of pond in Runge Conservation Center (09 Oct 2019)
Common buckeye feeding on aster at Runge (09 Oct 2019)
(click each for larger view in new tab)
a growing distance
in absence of affection
no longer lovers
This senryū is my response to
Colleen’s 2019 Weekly #Tanka Tuesday #Poetry Challenge
No. 148 #SynonymsOnly, which offers empty and space as prompt words.
I have used “absence” and “distance” as synonyms.
Which color is more true,
the rust of leaves that turn
their back on gaudy display
as they cling to an oak in October,
or the vibrancy reflected
in the stream below, shouting
the grandeur of its passing?
The sun will set on both, before long.
This is my response to Quadrille #89 – Are You Set? — the prompt from Merril at dVerse, which is to use the word set in a 44-word poem that does not require meter or rhyme.
Image: Sunset on the Missouri River at St. Thomas, Missouri
their colors aflame
shade changing with the season
the beauty of leaves
This haiku/Haiga/magnetic poetry is my response to Frank Tasone’s #Haikai
Challenge #107: Fall Foliage
If you want to try magnetic poetry, you can do it online, here.
In the days of the samurai, two ancient roads linked Japan’s two great cities of Kyoto and Edo (now Tokyo). Lords would travel these routes, accompanied by armies of samurai. Carpe Diem Weekend Meditation #105 – Turn Back Time offers two haiku regarding the “Samurai’s Mountain Road,” one by Yosa Buson and the other by Matsuo Bashō, as inspiration for a tanka or haiku. My response is a fusion haiku, with elements of both.
first yellow leaf on maple
autumn upon us
quiet forest path
dry leaves stirred up by my feet
Bashō (tr. Chèvrefeuille)
yellow maple leaf
following path to winter
waiting for no one
Image source: ukiyo-e.org – Kageishi in the Mountains of Hakone, by Kawanabe Kyosai