CAT HAIKU

misty on window

The prompt from Haiku Horizons blog is ‘cat.’ Traditionally haiku  references the seasons and has 17 syllables but the syllable count is pretty flexible when writing in English. And there are many modern haiku that have nothing to do with seasons! There should be a change of direction, a turning point in each haiku, usually at the last line.

I have punned on the word ‘pause’ here but not sure if it works. The slo-mo is referring to those nature programmes which slow the movement of an animal down to extremes.

 

your slo-mo hop

onto the window sill

pause my runaway mind

Advertisements

Voyager

voyager-1-ultimate-destination

I don’t pretend this amounts to much as poetry – more of a rant? But I needed to get it off my chest. I think it was Carl Sagan who referred to planet Earth as being a dust mote caught in a sunbeam. Voyager took this photo as it hurtled away from the solar system. The image was recently chosen by Sky at Night as one out of ten iconic/significant images taken by telescopes/cameras.

What came to mind was the insignificance of the Earth on the cosmic scale and comparing its relative physical size with our triumphs of the spirit and our depravities – which of course were not recorded on the gold disc in the Voyager space craft! So although it is unlikely that any intelligent aliens will ever come into contact with it they would get a rather sanitised picture of what we are like. Perhaps I tend to be pessimistic about humanity but on the other hand I think it is important to acknowledge the dark with the light. That’s just being realistic!

How can a dust mote caught in the solar wind

contain a nightingale’s song

or the awful trumpeting of the last elephant?

How can a dust mote caught in the solar wind

contain Michelangelo’s ceiling

or Bach’s Mass in B Minor?

How can a dust mote caught in the solar wind

contain so much incinerator smoke

or the bits and pieces of suicide bombers?

How can a dust mote caught in the solar wind

contain the nightmares of a million children

sleeping in the streets?

How can a dust mote caught in the solar wind

contain the lobster’s quadrille

or the Cheshire Cat’s Grin?

How can a dust mote caught in the solar wind

contain the watery dreams

of the last few cavorting dolphins?

How can a dust mote caught in the solar wind

contain Ivan Ilyich’s redemption

or weed wide enough to wrap a fairy in?

(Soon to disappear into deep space

carrying our triumphs but

leaving our depravities unrecorded.)

Vincent

paintings-vincent-van-gogh-13336296-1036-840

“What a Strange Thing Touch Is.”

Like a saint’s relics

they’re displayed

for us to venerate

out of reach under glass

palettes, paints & brushes.

Yellowing paper ages

his urgent hand

fading ink leaks

his lifeblood along

the sun’s certain circuit.

*                  *                      *

Like a jailer confiscating blades

Peyron locked away his deadly paints

and the sun’s white glare.

*               *                  *                     *

If we could we’d keep

his fierce sun

beating in our breasts.

The quote above is from one of his many letters to Theo his brother. He is talking about the touch of his brush on the canvas but could just as well be thinking of human touch. When he was confined in an asylum he would swallow oil paint during episodes of  emotional turmoil. Various suggestions have been offered to identify the exact nature of his mental illness ranging from epilepsy to bipolar.

Mystery & Survival

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

There was an online invitation to draw something which would relate in some way to William Golding’s novel, The Inheritors. To enlarge the drawing just click on it.

This sound poem is a bit of an experiment intended to go with my drawing!

 

skull bone
fa /da /fa!
skin sinew
da/ fa/ da!
earth fire
ah! ah! ee!
sassabee!
haku! haku! bear!
hunt kill eat we!
fire water earth air!

 

why is the world so beautiful

earthrise

a blue marble spinning in space
enveloped in a dirty thin skin
fish swim in 59th street
whales gasp on the shores
we’ve spoken an inanimate grammar too long
the plankton the trees the fish & the whales
feel lonely      so lonely

they long for our love

 

 

I wrote this after listening to a podcast given by Dr Robin Wall Kimmerer, an ecologist/evironmentalist working in the USA.

You can listen to the talk here: http://www.onbeing.org/program/robin-wall-kimmerer-the-intelligence-in-all-kinds-of-life/8446#.VtHGy05WVNI.twitter