Carpe Diem #1846 Trying to restart again
wet spring
discarding drown plants
setting new seedlings
replacing flowers
by the cold wet stone
spring hatchlings chirp
tears dried, visits lessen
conversation growing thin
butterfly hatching
my daughter’s eyes
tell a story
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
tattered wings
sail into autumn skies
were you kept too long
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
my grandson squeals
hanging on an orange lily
hatching butterfly
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over the years
butterfly fascination
stirring hopes and dreams
every hatching imbued
secrets and memories
family game night
crowding around the table
cards ready for play
betting stakes taken
from father’s old pony jar
snowy evening
black cloud dragon rises
swallowing the moon
disappearing in the light
dispelling darkness
(Image created in photoshop elements)
Carpe Diem #1803 New Beginnings … snowdrops
new patch of snowdrops
rushing to pick springs first blooms
barefoot on fresh snow
sparse strip of green grass
dotted with white gravel
Carpe Diem #1585 icicles (tsurara)
ice wall glistens
reflection creating
fantasy grotto
winter dusk
sunset bleeds
across the snow
hanging icicles reflect
fading colors
heavy winter storm
even the bird feeder
encased in glass
tumultuous changes
embraced by your family
I still stand out
smiling you whisper
“Diamonds are xenoliths.”
Carpe Diem #1515 French Haiku (Haiku Francophone)
I found a French haiku and a tanka that I liked. I only speak English but my attempt to write in French follows at the end
au bout de la rue
deux tas de pierres veillent
sur le vieux verger
at the end of the street
two piles of stones keep watch
over the old orchard
haiku by French Canadian poet André Duhaime
Dans l’ombre tissée
Par ces minces fils d’argent
Elle dort sans trêve
Parfois rôde un rêve d’aile
Un frisson parcourt la toile
In the shadow woven
By its thin silver treads
It always sleeps
Sometimes a dream of wing comes prawling
A thrill passes all over the web
tanka by French tanka masterRené Galichet
après l’orage
le gazouillis des oisillons
rompre le silence
after the storm
chirping of little birds
breaking the silence
Carpe Diem’s Weekend Meditation #51 Tagore’s “Endless Time”
Endless Time
Time is endless in thy hands, my lord.
There is none to count thy minutes.
Days and nights pass and ages bloom and fade like flowers.
Thou knowest how to wait.
Thy centuries follow each other perfecting a small wild flower.
We have no time to lose,
and having no time we must scramble for a chance.
We are too poor to be late.
And thus it is that time goes by
while I give it to every querulous man who claims it,
and thine altar is empty of all offerings to the last.
At the end of the day I hasten in fear lest thy gate be shut;
but I find that yet there is time.
© Rabindranath Tagore
we hurl through space
at breakneck speeds lost
forgetting how to breath
through the eons you wait for
your stiff-necked people to change
Adas Poetry Alcove 