doors waiting to be opened —
Await me this year.
True freedom and morality have taken a hard hit in the U. S. since the last presidential election, but all is not lost. There is an amazing movement of citizens who have finally awakened to the need to be much more vigilant and proactive than ever before — and a whole new generation of conservatives who are not afraid to break free of the establishment and actually fight for the freedoms our forefathers gave everything to win for us. Just thought I’d post a little haiku on that subject.
Memories so sweet:
Daddy baking cookies from
Flaky, sugared, golden dough
Stuffed with hickory nuts.
Each year at Christmas,
In kitchen warm and cozy –
Memories so sweet.
For decades, my dad (who was Bulgarian/Polish) baked Hungarian cookies. It was a recipe handed down from one Balkan country to another, and was a favorite of our family. However, in the last several years of my dad’s life, Christmas season included so many other activities as well that sometimes he just didn’t have time to bake those cookies along with everything else. When those years came along, he baked them for me on my birthday instead, which is February 1st. So it’s right that I’m thinking about them in February this year. I can almost taste them even now.
It’s been raining here for two whole days, so I thought it was only fitting that I write about rain. Since I’m in a poetic mood, I decided I’d give myself a little workout and do one haiku, one cinquain, and one simple iambic pentameter verse about that subject.
Everything is gray.
Rain hanging like a curtain.
No sun peeping in.
I just have to complain:
All is gray and wet and dreary!
IAMBIC PENTAMETER VERSE
Another boring day of endless rain.
We don’t need this much water every day.
Sunshine is now a fading memory.
The birds won’t even come out now to play.
I know some tribes have dances that they do
To bring the rain when grounds are parched and bare.
I wonder if there is another dance
To end the rain and turn the weather fair.
The Advent of Christ:
Ev’ry heart that makes Him room
Is filled with His light.
photo courtesy of Geralt @pixabay.com
I was watching an art tutorial the other day, and the artist shared about something she had learned from a life coach that had changed her life for the good. It was the concept of determining what you give your time and energy to by always “focusing on what sparks joy.” The concept found a home in my heart as well. It’s very good advice, and I intend to follow it more in the future. In light of that fact, I offer this bit of Haiku for two reasons: Writing it sparks joy in me, and I hope reading it sparks the same joy in you.
Concrete, steel, and light —
Man-created universe —
photo courtesy of AsmuSe @ pixabay.com
Order reigns in here
Until board members take seats
And conflict begins.
photo courtesy of Pexels @ pixabay.com
The sea is at play.
Its frisky waves punch warm sand
And roll with laughter.
photo courtesy of Pexels @ pixabay.com
I have met several poets in the WordPress community who are masters at haiku. Gilly Goldsworthy at Lucid Gypsy is one of those people. And Dennis Lange, The Bard on the Hill, has created his own unique version of haiku and does beautiful work with it. The form has never been one of my strong points, but I do really enjoy experimenting with it. I got lots of fun out of this assignment, partly because once I got started thinking about all the different kinds of water, I couldn’t decide which kind to write about. So I just posted three totally different takes on the subject. Hope my visitors enjoy them.
I am a raindrop.
Sea mist rising gave me birth.
Now I’m headed home.
Beck’ning mud puddle:
As magnet’s force compels iron,
So it draws children.
(I can’t decide which of the two versions I like better, so I’ll let readers decide for themselves)
SEA OF LOVE