Tag: poetry
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#Senryu Saturday: My Daily #Haiku #2
Is it the end or the beginning? Easter Moon #haikuchallenge (end) #senryu #micropoetry #poetry
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My Daily #Haiku (3/31/18)
Courtesy of Planet Thoughts 3/31/18: frog The old pond, A frog jumps in: Plop! Basho (Translated by Allan Watts) old frog a dried-out pond … croaking #haiku #micropoetry #poetry
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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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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…
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My Daily Haiku (3/30/18)
3/30/18: gone foggy Good Friday somewhere somebody watches “Gone Baby Gone” #haiku #micropoetry #poetry
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#Throwdown Thursday (3/29/18): my latest #haibun “A Montebello School Commencement” is up on .@ImageCurve
A Montebello School Commencement Frankie and I are home. He’ll soon put on a light-green, button-down collared shirt, a pair of Khakis and dockers. We’ll drop him off at the middle school and take our seats in the auditorium. For his promotion ceremony. I blinked, and my son turned eleven and graduated elementary…
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My Daily Haiku (3/28/18)
3/29/18: growing first birdsong … inaugural light growing this Holy Thursday #haiku #micropoetry #poetry
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#Wayback Wednesday (3/28/18): Dreaming Dad from Haibun Today
Dreaming Dad You come with us to a picnic ground. Scattered cottonball clouds float across a blue summer sky. Lush, green grass feels soft under our feet. Maple and birch trees enclose the area. We sit at a weathered picnic table splintering with age. You wear your cream short-sleeve shirt, khaki shorts and those worn,…
