Tag: haibun
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Soundside Serenity
A cool breeze blows to shore from Long Island Sound. The leaves of a nearby oak rustle in it. I close my eyes, feeling the refreshing cold sensation on my face. Listening to the soft ripple of water lapping rock. Glenn Island Park may be the Bear Mountain of New Rochelle, as Mira suggests. Right…
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Thunderstruck: an #AmericanSentence #haibun
She straightens her hair. Her hands guide the flattening iron as its jaws clench on locks of wavy hair. Snippets of steam rise before she draws the iron down and then grasps another strand. There must be some occasion. But it’s too early for our newphew’s wedding. Lightening dances across thunderheads that encroach the sky.…
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Knife’s Edge
A sliver between water, where families make their home. Leave for work. Return home. Celebrate birthdays, holidays. Live their lives. Until an inevitable day of packing and moving. By them, or others. “And so it goes…” the space between twilight and night turning tide for dVerse Poets’ Quadrille #183 – A Sliver of a Poem…
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Of Super Moons and Moves
A steady stream of Spanish chatter woffs up from outside of the first floor apartment. The family residing there hosts a birthday party for one of their children. It’s a hot September afternoon, and only the hint of a breeze rustles the still-green leaves of the neighborhood trees. It’s our fifth day in our new…
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Junteenth: a Journey
An impeccably-dressed General Lee presented his sword to a slovenly-uniformed General Grant on April 9th of 1865. The army of Virginia, the great hope of the Confederacy, surrendered. The United States Civil War officially ended on May 13th of the same year. What could that mean for Black slaves in and around Galveston, Texas? Their…
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Domestic Memory
An apple tree with a shorn trunk, making for a convenient step. The climbs up to it’s largest branch, and the hours spent imagining adventures. childhood dreams… all those eternal summer days The boxes filled with books, toys, and sentimentals. A new bedroom to call my own. childhood nightmares… the calm before storm The mudroom,…
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Another Arnold
Were you ever who you claimed to be? betrayed stares your empty smile moving past just another burnt bridge left behind Day 15 of
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Performative Perfection
Poet after poet takes the stage. Each poem, alive in the unique telling of its writer, their cadances conveying their singular vitality. Our heartfelt applause for each one thunders in the cavernous Prudential Hall. Ah, how long until I can partake of all four days of the Dodge Poetry Festival? firelight a blind bard singing…
Frank J. Tassone 