plants man animals
united in death
Here is a poem I wrote a long time ago, back before I had learned the rules of haiku. I could never decide if this was a good haiku or even a good poem. If you were to look at the top of some of my posts, you will see that some poems are in both categories, haiku and senryu. This is another poem that I will post to both.
It’s not funny and senryu are supposed to be a bit humorous or at least poke fun at something. What do you think?
bright white moon
covered by gray clouds
a death clouds my week
I’m actually having a good week, I just wanted to share this haiku. Sorry it’s a day late, baseball season is in full swing and I am loving it.
in full bloom
may the plum not be touched
by the wind’s hand
Since I am not writing haiku in my PAD Challenge posts, I thought I would keep posting haiku for you all on Thursdays. What do you think of these poems so far? Do you have a favorite Basho poem?
colorful leaves taken by
a cold winter wind
I wrote this at the beginning of the year for a #MSpoetry prompt on Twitter.
her slender hands
blue grama grass withers
This was also written for a botiaku prompt and was first posted on Twitter. On October 4th my Great Aunt Rita passed away; this was written for her.
Friday Fictioneers is a group of bloggers who write 100-word stories after being inspired by a photo posted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. It is not a closed group, you can join! We are allowed to use the photo in our post (the photographer’s name is always in the caption) and encouraged to leave each other comments. You are also supposed to link back to the group. I always appreciate anyone who takes the time to leave me a comment. I write my story before I read any of the other writers’ creations, although I do often read Rochelle’s post before I write mine since it is right under the photo of the week. This week’s story is 100 words long! Can I get a like just for that!?
PHOTO PROMPT © Amy Reese
End of Shift
There are fluorescent lights, a cold tile floor, but no doctors.
I always thought I would die in a hospital bed, surrounded by my squad, and that my family would know what happened.
I hear him shutting the door to his storage unit. He thinks I am completely dead, but I can still feel my heart beating, and I can still hear.
If I could move, I would squeeze my trigger finger and take him out. But my body is shutting down. So Tom Pardo will get away again, because the only people who know who he is are dead.
This poem is about the day that we brought my grandfather home to die. He died about 3 months after we brought him home. He died 10 years after my mom’s mother died, 10 years later on the exact day. September is such a bad month for my family.
Standing in the elevator my ears close
They curl up and refuse to hear anymore
My eyes begin to dim like a bad bulb
Because they don’t want to see
I grab the bar to keep myself standing
I have to walk out of this hospital
We have to go home and get ready
He has one weekend left
The man who faced down Nazis
Who kept the Germans from
Breaking through the Bulge
Cannot keep his body from malfunctioning
He has fought off heart attacks
So now his brain is having strokes
The small attacks are beating him down
They have paralyzed his legs and one arm
He drove a tank over The Alps
and across the Rhine to free people
Now he drives a wheelchair across the kitchen
My aunt is trying to talk to me
But I’m not really hearing the words
The moment did not knock me down
Or throw me over oblivion’s edge
Instead it is slowly dragging me to the floor
Is my blood sugar low
No my realization is high
Death is standing in the shadows
Of my grandfather’s hospital room
We make Boston Cream Pie as we wait
For the ambulance to bring him home
Because diabetes has finally won
And he can have sugared strawberries
Guilty? Yes. No matter what the motive, love of ease, or a desire to save from suffering the unborn innocent, the woman is awfully guilty who commits the deed. It will burden her conscience in life, it will burden her soul in death; but oh, thrice guilty is he who…drove her to the desperation which impelled her to the crime!
-Susan B. Anthony The Revolution, 1869 (on abortion)
A woman must not depend upon the protection of man, but must be taught to protect herself. –Susan B. Anthony
Since it is the 45th Women’s Equality day, I gave you two quotes!
Women’s Equality Day commemorates the 19th Amendment to the Constitution, granting women the right to vote. In 1971, after much work, and at the urging of U.S. Representative Bella Abzug (D-NY), Congress designated August 26 each year as“Women’s Equality Day.” This day was selected to commemorate the passage of the 19th Amendment to the Constitution on August 26, 1920. This amendment granted women the right to vote. This was the culmination of decades of effort by women suffragettes and other groups. Their efforts dated back to first women’s rights convention in 1848 at Seneca Falls, New York.
You can celebrate this day in a number of ways. First, stop and celebrate the accomplishments made in gaining the right to vote, and towards equality for women. Second, be sure that you are registered to vote in your county before October! Third, sign a petition or educate yourself on a rights groups in your area.
Friday Fictioneers is a group of bloggers who write 100-word stories after being inspired by a photo posted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. We are allowed to use the photo in our post and encouraged to leave each other comments. I always appreciate anyone who takes the time to leave me a comment. I write my story before I read any of the other writers’ creations. I know that I haven’t posted much this week. I probably won’t post much this month, I have a lot going on. I will make sure to post a new haiku every Monday though.
PHOTO PROMPT © Roger Bultot
The birds gathered to watch. They were our only support and they were as quiet as the vases of flowers that lined the window sill. I should have felt thankful for the flowers. They made Momma happy in her last month of life.
Momma told me over and over that sitting amongst flowers was a preview of heaven. “Why would God create so many plants for earth and have none in heaven?” she would often argue.
As I carried the last box of her belongings to the car, I looked skyward and whispered, “Pick a bouquet for me, Momma.”
the bird decays further
’til he is only feathers
I started dating my poems halfway through last year. I wish I had always dated them. I don’t know why I thought it was a good idea to leave the dates off. My attitude towards writing and poetry has changed a little bit in the past decade. I wonder what I will be like, or what style I will use a decade from now?
I have decided that since I have written so many tanka, it might be fun to do Tanka Tuesday for a while. I will post them in chronological order, skipping the tanka that I have already posted. Leave me some Likes and comments if you like this kind of poetry.
Have a good day says
the lady at the drive through.
I do not have time
to explain that I cannot.
(RIP Alice Mullin)
So if you are subscribed to my blog you know that I have written some short stories, but was too scared to share them. This is the first 100-word story that I ever wrote for Friday Fictioneers. I did not share it because I chickened out. I believe I wrote it on August 30, 2014. Here is the post that inspired it. What do you think? Would you like to see more 100-word stories?
Remember – the photo below is what inspires the story – it is not mine.
photo credit: Madison Woods
Thy Name Is…
She wished she knew its name.
That would bring her some comfort. If she could give a name to what had taken her best friend, she would feel better. She was sure this was the thing because she could see that her dog Molly had chewed on it. Slobber still foamed from Molly’s mouth.
She wondered if it would hurt her if she got any on her. Molly deserved a proper burial. She carefully put her hands under Molly’s back, lifted her, and carried her toward the shade tree in the backyard.