I
bees swarm in the broccoli
dry soil gasping for respite
you draw painful breath
II
weather charts flush red
paddocks painted pale yellow
bird baths half empty
III
possums stomp above
waiting for hot dawn to sleep
long after you're gone
For this week's #creativegarden prompt, I stupidly set the prompt 'haiku', forgetting I'd have to write one myself, as I always do. I'm not good at haiku. When I read what the masters do, and people like @boxcarblue and @owasco on Hive, there's always a sharp intake of breath at the majesty of their verse. There's a sharp, briliant melancholy to haiku that I admire.
Thinking of the 'garden' theme, my thoughts are of my parent's garden, an acre down on the coast full of natives. Even in his dying days and struggling for breath, my father laments and worries over the rabbits and possums. Old habits die hard. They are pests, I know, but I do reprimand him that he doesn't need to add that to his pain. Perhaps everything else is processed, and it's only that that's left.
So. my haiku - the hot summer approaching, the possums running over the hot corrugated iron roof, the yellowing paddocks, the birds desperate for water, the flowering brassica.
With Love,
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For someone who claims to not write haiku well, you’ve struck gold with these three.
Absolutely beautiful.
I love the way you stack three images in the second one and describe heat/drought without one mention of either.
And the first one stands alone as a very strong garden poem, also describing drought and extreme heat so well, but coupled with your prose, it could easily be read as metaphor for your sick father: the broccoli his lungs, the illness buzzing around inside them, the flesh the soil gasping for air, etc.
More than that, though, all three of these poems have so much feeling in them.
Someone said to me recently that he thought of haiku as a call without a response. That made me think of the myth of Echo, which is such a heartbreaking myth. But it seems to capture the feelings that are often associated with haiku.
I was really nervous publishing these because I knew you'd critique them! I'm honoured you understand my intentions. I was pleased with where the exercise led me and glad I took on the challenge as they are quite a thing, aren't they? I like that - the call, the unanswered echo.
Thanks for understanding them. I was thinking of being true to the season as summer has truly begun, which in some ways is confounding as poetically, my father should be dying in winter, as the human cycle maps itself against the seasons.
Yet things wilt and die in the heat too, and it's stifling and poignant as much as the frozen branches are.
The one about the possums - Dad's notorious for getting a really long stick and poking them out of trees, though we shout at him to leave them alone. He hates the destruction they cause. I was thinking of the possums in peace once he goes, and me chasing the blackbirds (they disrupt the native birds, being an import) away from the birdbaths.
What did suprise me was when I read back over and the bird bath was half full, not empty. I had to change it to fit the sense of drought and impending death. But I did feel as if there was a little hope in my heart despite it all. Turns out the haiku reveals as much to the writer as they might to their audience. Huh.
Oh, no. Do I have a reputation that I don’t know about? Am I a feared, curmudgeonly writing critic?
I probably did say too much when I commented on one of your mushroom poems a few months back. My apologies. Occasionally I get excited and want to share my thoughts, but navigating the proper channels of constructive criticism/sharing opinions is tricky.
I really know very little about haiku and poetry in general. I would even go as far as to say that most of the time I don’t like reading poetry and haiku, and novels too.
Despite that, I’ve always wanted to write. And I think that’s just because every now and then, I read a poem or a book that lights me on fire, and then I want to try making something as incredible.
I feel like I learned something from your poems today that I’ll try to reproduce in some way in my own.
You’re right. You do learn about yourself by writing these tiny poems. I’m often surprised by what I find when I go back at the end of every week and look at the poems I’ve written. It’s amazing how far gone five, six, or seven days can feel.
It sounds like you are going to have a lot of things around your house and in nature to remind you of your dad after he passes away. Some days they will be very sad reminders, and some days they will be beautiful gifts.
Oh hahaha no, I love your criticism! I don't mean it in a negative sense + perhaps I should say commentary instead! You are one of the few that actually take the time to analyze and interpret which I LOVE. I was nervous because you know your stuff and I didn't want to appear a fraud or a terrible writer 😂 Yhw thought YOU have learnt something from MY poe.s is humblimg indeed.
The biggest reminder of Dad os the ocean really. I was talking to my best mate about it last week as her own Dad has dementia. Its our way of being close to them. But i do get a powerful sense of interconnectness to all that is in nature, and find it my greatest teacher, comfort amd joy. And Ill never forget how he would gush about the beauty of nature when he had been in a moment out there in it. That infectiousness sticka.
Between the ocean, the possums, the garden, and his favorite music, he’ll always be with you.
Changing the topic, there’s a town in Northern California called Ukiah, a Native American name that coincidentally spells haiku backwards.
Apparently they have a big haiku festival ever year, and they accept submissions from all age levels, so I thought that you and some of your students might be interested in it.
https://ukiahaiku.org/?fbclid=PAAab26XD9fqvBUtkciI9R6dLeVDwhi_wfNLO-lT7qJOY61O3LdESZ29Rbprk_aem_Af91G0joTJ1ji-JUJdHYG6zOoOOOZHAElZC31mui_vqKPzeJmU0gnagmWL9cpmiDh78
I'm so sorry I missed this - and thanks for the link! And yes, there's a lot that will remind me of him! That's crazy about the town that's an anagram for Haiku - love it!
I doubt anyone on hive would call your urge to participate in your own contest "stupid." We all know you do, and that you give over-the-top here even under extreme duress.
Writing haiku employs your personal voice, and I can see yours clearly in these three. I always marvel, enviously, at the lyrical fluidity of your stories - you are highly descriptive with remarkably few words.
These three are no different. Somehow your having to pare down to fewer syllables has put a new power into your words.
All the heat in your poems has me sweating over here, a hot flash I'd thought I was well and done with. During my first read through, I saw your garden, simply, hot, and thought the unease in them was yours at the heat. That they were quite literal, almost superficial. Of course I know you, and that you are anything but superficial. So I read them again. And again. I began to see despondency in them. It wasn't until my third or fourth read that I saw, so very clearly, your father's last painful and gasping days.
The one that, at first, seemed the most literal now says something very different to me:
Weather charts flush red = medical equipment alerts
paddocks painted pale yellow = liver problems
bird baths half empty = water/life washing away
Then the last line hits me hard: the possums' gain in his passing will be your loss.
I'm so sorry River, I can't say anymore I am so very sad for you. I'm pretty sure no one here would hold it against you if you gave yourself a little break here on Hive.
I'm unencumbered for a week or two, so I can do the creative garden curating for this and next week.
Aw @owasco you are too kind. Thankyou for giving my haiku attempts so much careful attention. I'm super chuffed.
I didn't think of liver issues for the second, just the hint of illness with the 'pale' and trying to mirror the lands struggle with Dad's. We are still waiting for oncologist to get back to him with a plan - perhaps they'll either say there's nothing to be done, or they'll prolong his life a little. Either way my hope is half empty, and that's okay.
I'm glad you saw the idea in the last line. I imagine those bloody possums actually being able to rest when he's gone - no one to shake them out of trees. Life goes on, doesn't it?
I'd be really grateful for you to give comments as they come. I can't seem to get to them with a comment til the last minute. Of course we are trying to get things together to go away as well, though we won't leave if Dad is actually given a time frame that means it's pointless to go and come back. That's a whole other story.
I like to write in the challenges so that other people are reminded to do the same, plus, it's an interesting challenge to force myself to write to a prompt. Did you catch my Christmas story last week? If you have time I'd love you to read it but don't feel obligated. I appreciate you so much, @owasco!
I was insanely busy last week, but I'll read it today, and keep up with the entries.
I've been wondering if you're still going. You must be so stressed out right now.
Ha I have moments where I retreat into my woman cave, out on my noise cancelling headphones, and do a yoga nidra to settle the nervous system. We are treating it like a job, writing constant to do lists and getting through it.
Dad wants us to go. He's hopeful he will have another year of three. I doubt it. He wants photos of Iceland and Morocco to edit, to live vicariously through us. If he has extra time due to whatever he'll drugs they give him, we will go. My bro in law will call it if it's looking closer and I can jump on a flight.
It's a very odd time. My bro in law says I have no choice but to go. Sometimes I'm paralyzed. Sometimes I just forget.
Why would you not have a choice? You always have a choice.
Exactly. But he was trying to say that life goes on, and that it'd be silly to hang around if Dad's got a year, say, as I'd probably only see Dad once a week anyway or it'd be weird for my parents 😂 My folks are very insistent that things are as normal as possible. And to get on with our lives. .
Jamie will still go and meet the car if I decide to stay because things are close to the wire.
Oh my gosh the car is already on the way? You're that close to going? I can understand their wanting things to be "normal."
The words of Haiku is diversely interpreted, from your point of view, the lovely gardens of your parents is the centre of attention, an awesome post @riverflows.
Thanks so much
You are welcome dear friend.
You have really good feelings! Good luck....🫶
Thanks.
Lovely haiku ! I didn’t see that those were in the them of the month :)
It’s nice that the summer arrives for you, hopefully it will not be too too hot !
Here’s a view of our resilient calendulas behind the window full of drops 😘
Oh, and they aren't in the monthly challenge. There's now a weekly creative challenge with prompts. This week is haiku.
Ah, all right ! Probably I will be late for this one !
It brings me such joy that you have discovered the joy of calendula! Have you made calendula cream yet?
Such a lovely moment captured through a lense of raindrops!
No I didn't try yet ! But I would love to :)
You maybe have a special recipe to share with me hehe 😅
Have a lovely day dear @riverflows 😘
Reading to get inspired. Hope the inspiration comes before the deadline
It was touch and go for me too! One I imagined the moment/s, and practiced with the first images, the rest came. Looking forward to yours!
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