THROUGH THE WINDOW: Haiku

In the First Frosty Dawn I Lie

Birdsong prevails, but.....
separate (by pane and sash)
- the windows! - all shut.

FIELD NOTES: Haiku

Spring White

Vernal equinox?
Celebrate spring's arrival:
dismiss school early.

FIELD NOTES: It wasn't just a day at the beach....

...I haven’t been to this sort of beach in a very long time…so, like someone who doesn’t know when they are thirsty, I begin to drink…the moment I open the door from the air-conditioned car, I smell the Sound...I smell the coconut of sun lotion…I turn my face to the Long Island breeze as if there are Sirens haunting Charles Island…and if I were not so sane and responsible, I might have just wandered off, leaving the car door agape, my bag spilling out…but my intent is to use a good summer’s day to cleverly study for my Child Development Psychology test...in relaxation...good for my concentration...motivation…I used to do this in a different age…the time travel makes me smile…reflexively…how old am I?...if you ask me, I will have to think about it…on my right a young couple spoons under an umbrella, behind me three college girls chat with immediacy, to my left a large extended family sets up: squeezing-squealing- settling down…and down in front are boys and girls and babies in the surf….each time has its beauty, each time overlaps in this one place…the beach…

See this post in poetry form: Silver Sands

PLEASE OBEY THE BEACH SIGNS!

FIELD NOTES: when the enormity of nature...

...requires the acuity of haiku.

Sunday Afternoon at Harrybrooke

Geese swim where lawn grew.

Walk? Melting flood, but......Japan!

My troubles: puddle.


Unbelievable footage of Japanese tsunami 03/11/11

FIELD NOTES: Visual Poetry

Clementines in a ramekin

on a Sunday morning

in winter.

10 Minute Poem

Museum of Sorrows

(on being Polish)

Some show

hearts on sleeves,

unashamed

public displays,

everyone knows,

even those who don't

need

(or want)

to know:

but

not Polish.

Polish are like statues

- beautiful statues -

marble,

mute,

and statuesque,

that viewers want to touch

but can't

go

beyond

the velvet ropes,

the cordoned rooms,

the carefully crafted

chambers

in a long museum

of sorrows

end to end.

 Henryk Gorecki, Polish Composer

 

FIELD NOTES: Insider Edition (too hot to go outside!)

Periphery

Mind on chore in laundry room,
aside I sense some movement.
Sliding in
and sliding out
at lower right periphery
I guess a dust ball I hadn't time for.
But recurring like a rhythm,
reflexively my head turns,
then does the double take
in noticing the near invisible.
Without glasses I bend forward
peering in on a tiny tug-o-war
made of threads
and transparent film,
daddy-long-legs versus dragonfly
shifting weightlessness
back
and forth.
From my superior height
I judge this event
futile without victor,
so skipping consideration,
I act
to 'put them out of their misery'
with one sweeping-handed motion.
I continue
tugging twisted jeans from tub.

FIELD NOTES: A Happy Blue Pot

A Happy Blue Pot
(For Haitians & Others, January 2010)

I bought a pot;
(enameled cast iron,
cobalt blue on the outside, milk white on the in)
not because I needed it
at the time
but because it caught my eye
like love at first sight.
I first cooked in it
the bean casserole
for Wigilia*
and when I found myself smiling
unconsciously as a babe
I called it “my happy pot”.
I have since made soup
and rice,
and smile each time
for not much reason
other than delight in gathered senses
from a sometimes senseless world.
I do not wash the pot;
I bathe it
like a child of mine
when s/he was a baby
and wrap it gently in a towel.
Out from this Aladdin’s lamp
wafts wishes, memory and dreams,
and I would want it with me
if my earth should shake.
I clang my spoon,
call out,
how can I
give it
to you?

*(pronounced: /vi.ˈɡi.ʎa/ or vee-GHEE-lee-uh, the traditional Christmas Eve vigil supper in Poland)