Haibun Monday – This is my realm

Over at dVerse, Frank is our capable host this evening as we consider that special time of year when the veil between this world and the world beyond is at its thinnest – Hallowe’en.

Frank has invited us to craft a haibun (a piece of prose followed by a haiku) on this very theme. Whether you revel in the ‘holiday’ aspect loved by adult and children alike, whether your preference is for the inclusion of Samhain in your seasonal celebrations, or whether you just prefer a little fear and ghoulishness, why not have a go at crafting your haibun as the night draws in?

Take part, get your word on or just have a read. There’s bound to be something that will make your skin crawl…. mwahahahaaaaaa!

Here’s my offering – I hope you enjoy it!

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The rain spatters against the windows, reminiscent of thousands of dry, bony fingers tap, tap, tapping on the glass, demanding my attention. The curtains, ragged and thin from decades of wear, hang loosely from the rail, too short and too narrow for their supposed purpose. The pale, glowering moon menaces through the branches of the skeletal trees. Its insipid light is no match for the heavy darkness in here.

I light a candle, observing as the match is greedily consumed by the flame, cursing as the searing heat threatens to singe my flesh. Tonight is not the night for a sacrifice, much as the season might demand a burnt offering, recalling a time of witches, stakes and ducking stools. I refuse to submit, I have fought tooth and mail for the power I now possess.

Your science is no
match for me; All Hallow’s Eve
is my dark domain.

Bassline – dVerse

You speak like the words are tripping over your tongue, boy, like your brain’s runnin’ too fast to share all your street joy, your mental agility, your linguistic ability- – – – – it silences me. I cannot compete, you’ve been doin’ it for years, listenin’ to those MCs, they’re controllin’ like masters, freestylin’ with fluidity, there ain’t no rigidity, shoutin’ over ghetto blasters – – – – – you’re a tough act to come after. So I ain’t rhymin’, or reasonin’, or trying to emulate, you win hands down, boy. I dig it.

Watching drum and bass MCs spit words like broken teeth sends me crazy.

 

Bassline

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This week, on dVerse Meeting the Bar, Bjorn is our benevolent bartender and he has cordially invited us to indulge in haibun (prose, followed by haiku), but he also invites us to test and distort the tradition. I think that I have broken all the rules, apart from using 17 syllables in the closing line, which is in the style of an American Sentence – because I love, love, love Allen Ginsberg, I couldn’t resist. And, because I spent some time last night watching a drum & bass DJ and MC on an internet radio station, I threw rhyme and rhythm into my (not quite) prose section.

Poetry is all about breaking the rules, right? I hope you enjoy it 🙂

Please pop over to dVerse to see how others have risen to this challenge.

 

 

One Wild Song – Līgo Haībun Challenge

The Līgo Haibun Challenge is hosted by Ye Pirate and Ese.

This week we are invited to be innovative. Instead of completing our prose with a haiku, we can choose an alternative style of oh-so-brief poetry. I have selected the Cambodian pathya vat style – four lines of poetry where the second and third lines must rhyme.

This week is also prompt week, and i have chosen the Mexican proverb ‘It is not enough to know how to ride – you must also know how to fall’ as my inspiration.

Please do go and check out the other entries by visiting the co-hosts’ blogs and finding the InLinkz linky thing! There are some very talented writers out there…

*****

– One Wild Song –

The weather yesterday was what I told myself to be the winter version of the day of my dad’s funeral – blue skies, here and there the odd wisp of teased, cotton wool clouds, everywhere crisp and bright.

It was a fitting day for us all to gather for his memorial service. A man who loved colour in his clothing as well as in his art, he would have delighted in such a day to celebrate his life, his achievements, his work.

Throughout the service – a mixture of classical music, hymns, choral works, poetry and other readings – I kept on thinking that I wouldn’t have been surprised if the man himself had arrived, charging down the aisle in a puff of cigar smoke, rainbow-hued tie flailing. It was all so ‘him’. The stunning surroundings, the atmosphere, the sheer grandeur of it all, yet wrapped in an intimacy so tangible it could almost be touched and held close.

So many amazing sentiments were expressed. They were touching, even humorous at times, topped off by a huge round of applause fit to lift St Paul’s Cathedral from its foundations and expose the OBE Chapel to the world outside.

It could have been no better.

clapping of hands
stings in echoes
for life that flows
– sorrow no more

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