i am the shining
sand revealed as waves depart,
hard-ridged underfoot
who would have thought that
such tiny elements could
hurt bare arches so?
Doh! I linked to the wrong link on TJ’s blog earlier. Well, that means there is double the amount of haiku than normal – more for TJ’s new Haiku Hub!
This week’s prompt is actually ‘tide’ – I thought about what lies beneath the waves instead!
Please do hop on over the TJ’s blog, have a good read, and maybe offer up a haiku (or two) yourself?
the (hang)-dog days of summer
tangle themselves in my hair
and the curlicue corkscrews plaster themselves
to my forehead, shiny and greasy with sweat.
I attempt to cool myself
and enjoy a chilled glass of wine
but all I get is a headache
a dry mouth and a hankering for shade.
Summer nights under the stars ain’t all that –
in the northern hemisphere,
once the sun has gone and the sky is cloudless
you’re wishing for your duvet
and a hot cup of tea.
stars may be beautiful, tiny jewels above your head
but they don’t protect you from the chill
and crawling gooseflesh skin.
Yah, kissed by the sun is just a euphemism –
for scorching sunburn –
for skin raked raw by sand
and swimsuit straps,
and don’t even tell me about trying to pat yourself dry after that needle-sharp shower.
Me? I love summer…
Here’s my latest offering to my new found love – ah, Poetic Bloomings, you are a treasure! Tonight, we are asked to use four (or more) of the ten phrases that are often used to sum up the summer experience.
I had great fun with this – and please, take it all as tongue in cheek. I love what passes for Summer here in the UK, although I do wish we had more, errr, sun!
Please do hope on over to Poetic Bloomings to take part, or just read and enjoy!
Zayde* and Bubbe* loved the seaside. In the olden times, when money was plentiful and the sun always seemed to shine, they had rented out a holiday home, placed two old benches in the garden that meandered down towards the cliffs and felt that life was just perfect.
So it had been, for a little while. Zayde had always rejected the idea of owning a car, telling anyone that cared to listen, and many that had no choice, that the country’s public transport system was so efficient that he had no need. Why waste energy, time and most of all money on a heavy, fuel-hungry machine, when he could sit back and relax in comfort in a luxurious private compartment in a train, and dine in the dining car whenever he felt like it? Bubbe’s misgivings never got a look-in.
Then, the transport system let Zayde down. Oh yes, it was still efficient, still kept to the timetable, but what a timetable. No more being lulled and rocked to sleep as he and his wife sped to their holiday home on gleaming rails. No more steaming coffee and pastries to sate their morning appetites. No more smiling porters wheeling luggage to a waiting taxi.
The benches are still there in the garden, but empty of their companions.
There are no seats on cattle trucks.
There is plenty to be afraid of, these days.
* Zayde and Bubbe are Yiddish for grandfather and grandmother.
Here is my entry into the Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie collage writing prompt for this week. I’m afraid it took a dark turn, but hey, you know me, right? I couldn’t help but make the connections I did, it just seemed to fit. I know there are brighter stories out there inspired by this prompt because I’ve read at least one in my WordPress Reader feed, and I’ll be reading some more soon!
Why not join me in reading, or even, maybe, take part yourself?
Freya Writes... 