Under the Waterfall

under the waterfall – 

the hiss of foam

softened by oak

*

under the waterfall – 

the scent of old oak

borne on the mist

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Each Petal (Tanka)

each petal

the same as its ancestors

–  and yet – not quite –

a tear – a seam – 

and the most delicate – soars –  

Unstrung (Haiga)

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Lyrics

Dingsaller

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Helloing at Gloaming

With a double dose of onomatopoeia!

Potter's Field

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*

at potter’s field  
the warming earth heaves  
- and the trucks roll on  

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How Soft Underfoot

Inspired by the example from Robert Frost:

Reluctance

Out through the fields and the woods

And over the walls I have wended;

I have climbed the hills of view

And looked at the world, and descended;

I have come by the highway home,

And lo, it is ended.

The leaves are all dead on the ground, 

Save those that the oak is keeping

To ravel them one by one

And let them go scraping and creeping

Out over the crusted snow, 

When others are sleeping.

And the dead leaves lie huddled and still,

No longer blown hither and thither;

The last lone aster is gone;

The flowers of the witch hazel wither;

The heart is still aching to seek,

But the feet question ‘Whither?’

Ah, when to the heart of man

Was it ever less than a treason

To go with the drift of things, 

To yield with a grace to reason,

And bow and accept the end

Of a love or a season?

*

how soft underfoot - 

the leaves of seasons past

in their dreams

*

*

On a Mossy Trunk

March Wind

Da Vinci. Woman with Tousled Hair. WikiArt.



March wind - 
following the waves of my hair 
heartward 

Inspired by Paulo Coelho's "Way of the Bow".  Here is the passage providing our inspiration:

[…] When the archer draws the bow-string, he can see the whole world in his bow. 

When he follows the flight of the arrow, that world grows closer to him, caresses him and gives him a perfect sense of duty fulfilled. 

Each arrow flies differently. You can shoot a thousand arrows and each one will follow a different trajectory: that is the way of the bow. […]

[silence]

[silence]

the frozen swamp

waiting

**

with music (tanka)

with music
he parts the mists in my heart –
i am at peace

the lions of judgment
will have to wait in silence 

Henri Rousseau. The Dream.

Inspired by Henri Rousseau’s “The Dream”. 

Rousseau wrote a poem to accompany his artwork:

Yadwigha in a beautiful dream 

Having fallen gently to sleep 

Heard the sounds of a reed instrument 

Played by a well-intentioned [snake] charmer. 

As the moon reflected 

On the rivers [or flowers], the verdant trees,  

The wild snakes lend an ear 

To the joyous tunes of the instrument.

The name “Yadwigha” reminded me of Jadwiga of Poland. Some research on Wikipedia revealed that the woman in the painting is a Polish mistress from Rousseau’s youth.  And since I was raised in a part of the world where being Polish makes one the butt of many jokes — knowing that this lovely lady is YADWIGHA makes my heart happy in about twenty different ways.