Frank J. Tassone

Tag: haibun

  • Crossing the Bridge: a #TankaProse

    Dawn and the threshold awaits that crossing all the preparation and still the fear The bridge awaits. The River, so placid today, indifferently reflects the rising arc of the joined stones. I shudder before the threshold. The bystanders at my back stand their ground. This is my journey, to commence with my first step upon…

  • Old World Market: a #TBT #haibun for #ImageCurve (5/18/17)

    An aroma of sharp cheddar and freshly baked bread. Wood rafters and paneling rise to a slanted ceiling. A Buddha on one wall, and other cultural icons spread around. We make our way past a salad bar, pastier and fresh-cut meats. $18.99 for veal rib and ground lamb are among the offerings. Arriving at the cheeses, we…

  • A Grief Reobserved: a #Prosery #AmericanSentence #haibun

    We found out that our friend and colleague, Terry Richmond, died while vacationing in the Dominican Republic. The news came right before we began the 2018-2019 school year. Shocked with grief, our school came together, organizing a memorial during the first week, and meeting his mother. Her steadfast faith and grace inspired us, even as…

  • #Haikai Challenge 89 (6/8/19): fragrant breeze (kunpuu) #haiku #senryu #haibun #tanka #haiga #renga

    Hope you’ve enjoyed your summer-like (or survived your winter-like) weather, haijin! Congratulations to last week’s contributors! Haikai Challenge Participants 1. Jane Dougherty2. Ken Gierke / rivrvlogr3. Tessa4. Reena Saxena 5. Laure A. Brook6. Jane Dougherty7. Dwight L. Roth8. Jules 9. Revived Writer10. Janice11. Linda Lee Lyberg12. Deborah Powered by… Mister Linky’s Magical Widgets. A Moment…

  • A Bard Born and Made: A #GerryMuse #TankaProse (6/8/19)

    6/8/19: Gerry Muse–why do I write? A Bard Born and Made I knew my imaginary friends were imaginary. They became my first characters. I could entertain myself for hours on end with books, fiction and nonfiction. I felt fascinated at the power of language to capture that sublime, almost inexpressible experience. The stories came early.…

  • An Oceanic Comtemplation: a #writephoto #haibun

    The tide rolls in. A crescendo of sound rises, as waves crest and crash against the fine sand of the beach in a roar. The last sunlight reflects on the water as the sun dips below the horizon. A sea breeze picks up, its whoosh a counterpoint to the crying gulls scouring above the shore.…

  • Smuggs ’14 Chronicle, Day 7: July 31, 2014—Vermont Country Fair (indoors): [My latest #ImageCurve #haibun]

    The kettle-corn maker stands outside the Meeting House. I catch a glimpse of vendors inside. People pour in and out. We pass through the Welcome sign to the Village Center and continue up the path toward the Village Green. Nothing there. The famous Vermont Country Fair is inside the Meeting House. Returning there, we make…

  • Mourning Song: a #haibun

    The days between Dad’s death and his funeral passed with a frantic urgency. There Mom and I were, securing his plot, arranging his wake, purchasing his coffin. We held back the grief as we attended to the business of saying goodbye. I still needed to write his eulogy. Some time in the midst of all…