Author: Frank J. Tassone
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Haiku del giorno – Daily Haiku
Originally posted on Vento del giorno: Suzuki Harunobu, The first day of spring, circa 1768 dolcezza antica – il gaio dispiegarsi di primavera ancient sweetness – the merry unfolding of spring ©A.M.
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happiness
Originally posted on Ontheland: What is enough time flowing from dark to darkness days or years away ~ a butterfly… needs no answers to flutter ~ lady bugs their lives passing by on my window sill ~ happiness living like a butterfly each moment is enough ~ ©2018 Ontheland ~ My reflections are in response…
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#Freestyle Friday (3/30/18): a flashback to “Empty Signs on a Sacred Day #haibun #npm17 #napowrimo2017”
Originally posted on Frank J. Tassone: I see the sun and wonder why. A clear blue sky doesn’t suit Good Friday. Where are the black clouds? Where is the imminent sense of a universe screaming? Robins, sparrows and cardinals mark their territory in song. A distant dogwood has the audacity to bloom. Meanwhile, inside the house,…
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1815♥️
Originally posted on Cat Nap Revue: fasting and penance for my cardiac exam Good Friday morning
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will you remember…
Originally posted on a meditative journey : Clear waters unchanged in a meadow I saw once long ago will you remember this face of mine? ~Saigyō (B Watson, Poems of a Mountain Home)
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Cold
Originally posted on haiku tree: an old friend stops to say hello the coffee turns cold ?
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The Son
Originally posted on revivedwriter: Another response to Frank J. Tassone’s Triduum challenge, this time in commemoration of Good Friday. This is a set of 3 haiku. The sun stopped at noon Even nature in sorrow For Jesus’s pain. Innocent victim Redemption coming from love Carrying my cross. Not dark forever, The sun shone later, revived,…
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Triduum: a #Tanaga-prose #haibun
courtesy of the National Catholic Register Holy Thursday. My intention to attend mass collides with our exhaustion. Mira and I both have not slept well the past two nights–she worse off than me. A simple marinara penne with tilapia and shrimp, a bountiful glass of burgundy or three, and our inevitable crash on the…