Saturday, April 1, 2017

poetry fitness, Haibun



Today’s special early-bird prompt is to write a haibun!  I am neither familiar nor ever heard of the style. This poem is inspired by the wilting tulips next to my writing screen.

 


It was on that fateful day, when he grabbed his pencil
drawing a picture of a withered peony,  signing
Blissful Thomas, passing dark tunnels and thin air
reaching South Pole and meeting Saint Clause
of Christopher's childhood mercy, he could not
or may never find her of his expectation, not even
under the soft moon shadow, too sad that layers of
year rings are encraved in Oakwood tree trunk
poetry and stories are typed into chapters of art memory
while he intends to reshape his world with advent
Jesus Christ asks Matt Mead to quit swimming,