Even the stars – dVerse Poetics

 

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even the stars

delight in sweet repose

earned from shining all but invisibly

behind clouds hanging heavy

during  long winter’s nights

they mirror our joy

as we dig our toes

deep into sand

 – baked –

under the gaze of sweet summer sun

we sigh as the stars fade in early morn

the pale sky deepening to azure blue

as the sun reaches her zenith

we sigh

the stars rest

as we do


 

Summer has officially begun, and over on dVerse Poetics, Walt (our friendly host this evening) invites us to wax lyrical, inspired by the (hopefully) halcyon days of the warmest weeks and months ahead.

Here in the UK, this season is a mixed blessing, mostly a hoped for thing of long, hot, rain-free days, rather than an actuality! Still, the dark nights are shorter, the light is with us for longer, even if not rain free!

Walt has asked us to take our inspiration from one of the poems and poets he has included in his prompt, or perhaps use one from another dVerse contributor, or another poem/poet entirely. I have taken the line ‘even the stars’ from Kobayashi Issa’s ‘Summer Night’, which Walt shared with us in his prompt.

As always, I invite you to read the offerings from the other members of the dVerse community – and to take part if you feel so inspired! It’s fun, relaxing, and you’ll definitely get a warm welcome!

 

 

Yokoburi – dVerse Haibun Monday

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I need windscreen wipers for my glasses and a windproof umbrella. My coat needs sleeves with elasticated cuffs to shield my wrists from the chill deluge. I need shoes that don’t let the water in, that are impervious to the puddles. I need to love the rain. I relax into the squall, lift my eyes to the skies, admire the lowering clouds, see them pregnant and heavy with fat, luscious raindrops, relax my shoulders and smile. My fellow commuters, marching head-down across London Bridge might think me mad if they took a moment to look up from their intense march towards the office, the coffee shop, the cafe, the next bus stop. But if they did take that moment to look around them, perhaps that might mean they were rejoicing in Nature in all her English summer unpredictability too?

Lifting my eyes

to the clouds over sky-line

I become raindrops.


 

This is my first attempt at dVerse Haibun Monday – and how apt! This evening the sky was cloudless as I left London, and it was beautifully warm. This morning – well, it felt like Autumn, with wind, intense rain and to top it all – yep, it was Monday. The haibun does indeed reflect what happened – I realised I was making myself tense and a little bit more than a little bit fed up with fighting the elements, so decided to go with the flow. And believe me, there was a great deal of water swirling in the air and on the pavements!

Thank you to Toni for hosting! I hope my offering is what she is looking for. I’m no expert at haibun, am a little ‘light’ on what a ‘proper’ haibun is like, but I think I’ve gone some way to achieving what has been asked for!

Yokoburi is Japanese for ‘driving rain’. Who knew there were so many words for different types of rain, as Toni kindly shares with us?

Why not join in, or if you don’t feel up to it, at least pop on over and read what others have offered up?

Tilt – Līgo Haībun Challenge

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

This week’ we can choose one of two prompts, and I have chosen:

“And then there are the times when the wolves are silent and the moon is howling.”  ― George Carlin

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… I will visit each and every one as soon as I can!

*****

– Tilt –

The twelve days were blistering in their heat. Days when, if normality had reigned, if nothing had changed, if life had continued in its usual pattern, I would have been encased in an office, shaking my fist whilst summer launched itself with fierce abandon.

But this year, normality tilted. In the great scheme that life has for us, nothing of note took place. And yet our family was filleted like a slab of meat falling prey to the butcher’s knife.

We took our turns in that small room, hoping, praying, wishing for the miracle that would not come. And so we watched you leave us, by second, by minute, by hour, by day, by night.

The last day arrived. The last morning, noon, afternoon and evening. I knew. I could tell. How could it be anything other than the end now?

I spent some time – after – standing at the window with my back to you, holding myself tightly, staring at the ghosts of bushes and shrubs silhouetted in the gloom, feeling the summer breeze raise the hairs on my arms. Dusk – the between time. Reflecting the limbo in which I had now been thrust. The world should have imploded, and yet – it did not.

your resonance lingers
speaking volumes in my heart
summer eternal


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