Week 1 of NaHaiWriMo 2023

OMG just realised it’s February — NaHaiWriMo month, which I usually participate in — and I could have been doing all my micropoems this month to those haiku prompts. OK, I’ll jump right in and catch up with what I’ve missed. (Confession: some are senryu.)

1: DAYBREAK

cooling air

after the long hot night —

brief rest

2: DAWN BIRDSONG

one magpie

sings in the dawn

briefly

3: CROWING ROOSTER

shrill call

of the rooster —

still dark

4: SUNRISE

sunrise —

my cat landing on the bed

informs me

*

sunrise —

I open one eye

and roll over

5: BREAKFAST

first of all

the morning coffee —

long and black

6: MORNING

pounding rain

suddenly interrupts

this hot morning

7: BRUNCH

out for brunch

before the day warms up —

old friends chat

January micro 2023: 8

no parking space — 

have the angels

forsaken me 

or shall I never know

what mishap they prevent?

*

joining my afternoon rest

she lies beside my head

purring loudly –

the supervisor, the mother,

leaving only after I’m settled

January micro 2023: 7

my Tarot client

speaks of her widowhood

and I too weep

*

ten years 

since he died —

by now

memories are both 

grief and joy

January Micro 2023: 6

all the things

visitors don’t remark —

offerings on the sill

a small ritual every morning

the upturned broom by the door … 

*

finishing the library books

a three-day feast

of (mostly) very good poetry —

and now my mind 

is blank, my pen still

*

He’d love to stop work.

‘Change that conversation,’

I long to say —

as his back pain

gradually gets worse.

January micro 2023:5

When I stroke behind her ears

as she settles to sleep,

I love even more than her purr

the ecstatic curl and flex

of one little paw.

*

Sunday breakfast treat —

café style raisin toast

two fat slices

*

I draw Queen of Swords 

the independent woman 

also the widow –

happy to think of Andrew

and what a good life we made

January micro 2023:4

 

When I have a new Tarot, I pull a card a day as a way to learn — though all Tarot is Tarot — the particular character of this one. Recently I got the Crow deck by MJ Cullinane. I love crows, and I liked the artwork: neither too realistic nor too fancy. Today I pull the 8 of Cups: a longing for something beyond the material wealth I have. (I don’t have lots of money, but I have enough of everything else for my needs, and even some emotionally sustaining non-essentials — and that is wealth to me.)

But to take a more spiritual path — what can that mean? I have followed one all my life. At the age of 83, is this a message that death is beckoning? I don’t think I’m afraid to die, but I don’t feel ready yet. And despite the inevitable ageing and slowing, I don’t think my body is at that point either. But perhaps it’s a gradual journey. (Perhaps I need to begin some preparation.)

even with wings

ascending a mountain

must take time?

*

alone except for my cat

I put on the big blue earrings

(deep blue and white, like pottery)

which Angela gave me one birthday

– dressing up for myself

*

night owl texting –

certain friends know

who else roams the dark

January micro 2023: 3

summer interrupted

rain all night

today all drizzle –

even my garden statue

looks miserable

*

My card for today

is Queen of Cups.

Does it signify me

(water sign woman)

or the damp day outside?

*

The library reminds me

those books are coming due. 

OK – this afternoon

turns into a banquet:

gorging poetry.

*

The small cat dreams 

through the afternoon,

making tiny throat sounds

as if calling, or perhaps 

greeting someone (me?)

September tanka – bee / grass

 

Clover

and dandelions

dance

on my front lawn –

but no bees hum

************

cutting the grass

beheading clover

and dandelions –

leaving in their space 

no shelter for snakes

Prompts from the Tanka Poets on Site facebook group

Sightlines

... is the name of an art exhibition currently showing locally at the Small Works Gallery. Five local poets, including me, were invited to submit poems which might inspire 11 local artists. I sent them haiku, for the directness and immediacy of the visual images. Three artists chose six – or five – of them. (In the transcribing, sending poems over the internet, two haiku managed to run together as one poem. And hey, it really worked! An artist responded to it as a whole.) 

You may well have read the haiku before. I hunted out ones I'd already written, which have been posted on my blogs. But here they are accompanied by the art works they inspired, and the artists' comments.

 (All images are copyright and should not be used without written permission from the copyright owners. Contact me for details.)

after 10 years

our one frangipani

covers the wall

Photo by Sarah Temporal.

How tickled I was to see that Elaine Pollen's frangipani petals did indeed cover the wall!

Elaine said: 

This poem spoke to me of the wonder of nature, always surprising us, and of Australian summers resplendent with neighbourhood frangipani trees of all varieties. I had my own amazing experience with my own frangipani tree this year, which truly came into its own and suddenly appeared fully grown as if from nowhere.

My work references abstract expressionism and minimalism and speaks to intense transcendent experiences inspired in nature. Experiences which remind us of our place in the world and help us to connect to that still place within and the interconnectedness of all things. These works reflect my inner landscape and search for peace and harmony in an embattled world.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Oh!

the bougainvillea –

purple splash

Spring breeze –

a dead leaf dangles

from a web

 

darkness gathers

the old mountains

stand their ground

 

Annique Goldenberg said:

I have approached this call and response exhibition as a form of poetic assemblage, an ode to memory and evolution. When reading the poems [by which she means everyone's] I found myself drawn to the shorter passages, a line here and there, a haiku, or a senryu. These moments evoked in me images, colours, shapes, and stories which I could then use as a way to initiate a visual realisation. Drawing on my archive of unfinished works, unused papers, and found objects, gathered over the last eleven years, I felt a renewed delight upon discovering sketches, test pieces and fragments of works that had never been given a chance to shine.

A pattern emerged of a layered assemblage approach, forming in response to each poem's impression. I am conscious of how our lives, worlds and times are intimately interconnected, and so enjoyed discovering how the ideas I was drawn to in the poems inspired new meanings and relationships in my material expressions.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Autumn dusk

blue hills darken sharp-edged

against pale sky

And this is another response to one of the haiku Annique also used:

darkness gathers

the old mountains

stand their ground

 

Shelley Anfield said:

I feel a deep connection to nature and am fascinated by the dichotomy of fragility and strength that exists within all life and the corresponding constant striving for balance. For me, the landscape is a perfect metaphor for the complexities of human life. There is chaos and order, and within that a perfection that is difficult to comprehend. I approach my work as a form of meditation and hope to inspire a moment of stillness and contemplation within the viewer. 

Rosemary Nissen-Wade's haiku incorporating imagery of the mountains and sky inspired me and a response felt inevitable. I generally have a preference for painting large immersive pieces, so the haiku with its brevity seemed to suit the small scale of paintings I chose to create for this exhibition.

... Also, as Rosemary and I are both local artists, I chose to represent Wollumbin, the sacred mountain of our local region, which resides in a World Heritage listed area.

All photos except the first are by Rosemary Nissen-Wade.