Saturday, October 31, 2009

Wednesday, October 28, 2009

safely home

Somewhat along the lines of "Dreams of My Father", only Dream About My Father . . . my father died when I was three, but that doesn't stop the occasional dream. You grab what you can of those things that matter, even in dreams.

safely home
in an autumn dream . . .
the father I never knew


Friday, October 23, 2009

faded photo

Photobucket

I feel sad today - maybe pensive is a better word. My father died of tuberculosis when I was three years old and I have no memory of him. Three old photos is all there is to tell me about him, and this one which was given to me recently provides me with the most insight.

When I was much younger I awoke from a nap to him standing over me. It was a beautiful feeling, even though nothing was said. When I fully awoke he was gone, but I know he was there. The feeling was too special. That feeling and the photos are all I have of him.

I would have liked him, immensely, and not just because he was my father - I can tell because my mother chose to marry him and because of the company he keeps in a faded photograph.

a leaf flutters
in an abandoned spiderweb
. . .  these gray clouds


Monday, October 19, 2009

butterfly moment

Watching him slowly move in the meadow, weaving his hands through the tall grass, he reminds me of a butterfly. I wonder what he's thinking. Or what he's feeling. Does he sense the beauty of the turning leaves around him?

Autistic, they say. Of my six grandchildren he seems the one who is first to show his excitement and affection. And yes, there is something in his far-off look that wants to speak to me. I'm just learning to listen and I like what he tells me.

mid-afternoon
his popsicle wrapper
swirling with the leaves
a young boy deep in his
butterfly moment

Wednesday, October 14, 2009

iron rails

Photobucket

A version first published in Haigaonline, autumn/winter 2007

Monday, October 12, 2009

cat's tail, and others


humid night
only the cat's tail stirs
the curtains

First place, Kigo Theme, June 2006 Shiki Monthly Kukai - Haiku World


morning light
on the frosted oak –
your smile


-----

the constant
cawing of crows
autumn downpour

----

stairwell
the blind dog bumps
into his child gate

-----

on grass where
the dappled fawn had lain
dappled sunlight

-----

the glisten
of rails in passing rain
a far-off rumble

----

autumn evening
poet and aspens reflect
on the lake

pond haiku


a damselfly dips
and the redwing bobs
. . . wind in the reeds

__

stillness moves in
with the night fog
a loon's cry

"Stillness" First published in Simply Haiku, Autumn 2006, vol 4 no 3

marsh wind
redwings back and forth
on swaying reeds



Friday, October 9, 2009

Chewy

The new puppy "apparently" has trained me well, or so my wife says. "Chewy" as we have very appropriately named him, has ascertained that if he takes a dump in the house and brings a warm lump of that stuff - forgive me but I am going to call it what it is - a turd - if he brings a turd to my chair I am going to give him a doggie treat to get him to drop his prized jewel. You can tell he's ready for an exchange - his mouth is slightly agape, just barely concealing his offering, and he has this self-satisfied look in his eyes and one of those - you know what kind - grins. I admit that he does seem highly intelligent - you can see it his face.

Yes, it's disgusting, but my wife has pointed out that Chewy has trained me to give him a treat in exchange for his gift of the turd. He usually drags the exchange process out, mouthful by mouthful, and earns 2-3 treats before his latest stockpile runs out. So, it stands to reason that Chewy "could be" a little more intelligent than his "master" (That's Jan's supposition - not mine). I just figure I'd rather not have to get out of the chair to clean up his mess and this way I can just "reach out" and claim Chewy's newest gift for me. Chewy is a strange mix of shih-tzu and cairn terrier - strange, indeed. Must have an extremely large brain to outwit me. However, He does have to wait a few minutes before I'd allow him to lick my face - you know, the nasty mouth - so I'm not so stupid.

snowbank—
stepping into the dog's
earlier deposit

--

swirling leaves . . .
the old dog and I
forget our ages


Wednesday, October 7, 2009

nothing profound

I can see it would be tough blogging every day - especially when you have nothing profound to share. Heck, I'll always have a problem in that department.

Frost destroyed what tomatoes might have been on the vines. Only tomatoes left were some green romas. I mentioned the dogs had taken to picking the ripe tomatoes off the vine and eating them - well, they're still picking, picking the green romas, taking a bitter bite and leaving their plunder on the deck when they come in. Must be half a bushel of green, nibbled-on romas laying around on the deck (exaggeration, of course). We have three dogs (the little guy on bottom left died last December):

We still have plenty of green tomato relish left over, so don't get after me about doing something with the green romas on the vines. 'Sides, there aren't that many left now. Folks, that's as profound as I'm getting today.

Friday, October 2, 2009

Kaleidoscopic

Note: The first snowfall of the season for our area fell softly Sunday morning, much like the fluff from mountain cottonwood that I love to watch in the spring, only much colder (umm, makes sense). It's way too early for me - I expect to see Indian summer last a long time. But while it snowed, it seemed the world grew hushed - such a pleasant, encompassing feeling. Maybe two inches at the most, but it's still there this morning (Monday). Got a haiku or two from the experience - hopefully - they're still fermenting.

But, despite the little bit of snow, there's that magical, almost otherworldly feel in the air these days - the kaleidoscopic colors and pungent fragrances of autumn that seem to weave a spell upon one's senses - the barking of high-flying geese, the raspy cries of boisterous crows, the fine, hovering mist, and the renewed energy of old dogs and people. What is it about fall that rattles the synapses and seems to hand us back our childhood, at least temporarily? Just to smell decaying gardens and rain-soaked piles of leaves is enough to give me a natural rush - who needs needles, pills or chemical fixes? We've got it all just outside the door - haiku are waiting for us to shed our apathy . . .

autumn sunset
a song sparrow climbs
through the brambles

--

hollow log–
the forest wind
blows out of tune

Translated into Russian for Haiku.ru

прогнившее бревно -
лесной дух выдувает
неверные ноты


--

deep woods
a shaft of sunlight
finds its way

--

leaden sky . . .
as my mood darkens,
a white butterfly

The same thing will happen this winter when I smell coal smoke and feel the tingle of sub-zero temps in my nose, and this spring when I see the blur of whites, pinks and purples and smell lilacs. At such times, I want to live forever. Is life perhaps just a series of sensations and experiences to be woven into memories and poems for later? I wonder.

Song sparrow haiku first published in Simply Haiku Autumn, '06
A version of deep woods haiku first published in Haiku Harvest Spring & Summer 2006 - Vol. 6, No. 1 and now published in Magnapoets.

Thursday, October 1, 2009

reflection . . .

Photobucket

Haiga by Warren, haiku first published online in
"A Procession of Ripples" - an anthology of selected poems by over 100 poets, compiled by Laryalee Fraser, see "Ripples" .