Frank J. Tassone

Tag: haibun

  • My Domestic Landscape: a #haibun

      Walk down Victory Road. The Ramapo Mountains rise above the cluster of Maples around the Mahwah River. Trees line the front yards of the diverse houses flanking the street. They are an aboreal honor guard for passersby. Their sunburst colors in Autumn will arrest you in your tracks. Close your mouth before the flies…

  • #Throwdown Thursday (4/12/18): Shepherd’s Call…my latest #haibun on .@ImageCurve

    Shepherd’s Call     Each year, The Catholic Church celebrates Christ the Good Shepherd. A common Gospel reading for that Sunday Liturgy is the Gospel of John, in which Jesus Christ calls himself “the good Shepherd.” (John 10: 14) and says that his sheep “hear my voice.” (John 10:27) What do I hear? The tweets,…

  • #Wayback Wednesday (4/11/18): Tempest…an .@ImageCurve #haibun

    Tempest       Syracuse wind chime in back sings. Outside light flashes on. The wind blows on and on. Soon, I’ll step out into it. Shudder at the thought hot bite of oatmeal— last memory of warmth this morning     for more by FRANK J. TASSONE Photograph by Liming Huang   first published in…

  • A Vision of the Future: a #tanka -bun

        sunset a handful of years left in my career   journeys across American roads, rivers of Europe far from the long-ago rooms filled with late-night screams and tears     twilight holding hands we greet the stars     Photo by Peter Oswald on Unsplash   for Poets United–Midweek Motif–vision Real Toads’ Micro Poetry–Long-Ago Rooms #GloPoWriMo2018…

  • My New York: A City Love Affair

      I could write about the first time I saw New York City. How the skyline of Manhattan drew the wows only a child utters at their sight. How the Circle line showed me the Empire State Building, the Chrysler Tower, the Twin Towers of the World Trade Center–all in their lit glory.   I…

  • Waiting on a Butterfly’s Wings

      Waiting for a Butterfly’s wings to return Spring.   For if their beats can call forth Tsunami’s, surely they can put a zip in the warm season’s step?   Beat on, petite monarch, beat on     a sparrow’s last chirp forecasted snow flurries a week into spring   for dVerse Poets’ Quadrille #54:…

  • The Death Knell of Columbus

      The women wear suits. We file into the auditorium for our December Professional Development. Our Principal, Lisa, stands at the front. “Our agenda has changed. Please let me introduce our superintendent…” I shudder. Superintendents never come to schools anymore. Except to deliver bad news. The petite Latina woman with the hint of middle-age weight…

  • A Complementary Conversation

      I am the lost one. You venture across your own ways, while I stumble in the dark. How will I know where to walk if you leave me alone? You have always left me alone. Here I am, crying dry tears and screaming in silence. Where are you? Why do you abandon me?  …