Watermark

New Year Haiku 02009

patting the windowpane
kitten's first snow

Usually I get this up earlier, but TypePad has been having commenting problems; some of you know this already. If you would like to contribute, leave a poem in comments, or email me at blogdiva AT sbpoet DOT com, and I'll bring your poem up into this post. I'll leave this post at the top for awhile.

As you can see from that two-liner up there, I am not dogmatic about haiku. I don't count syllables. My small poems tend to be just that: little pithy poems. So don't worry about form.

Here's a person with plans:

DC in 08
July move to Charlottesville
Our home in 09

Posted by: meridith

RELATED POSTS:

• New Year Haiku 2008
• New Year Haiku 2005
• New Year Haiku 2007

SEE ALSO:

• s m a l l p o e m s
• small poems @ Watermark
• Poem Dancing @ Watermark

Poem Dance!

We have the beginning of a poem dance. This is the one I posted yesterday:

at the end of winter
at the end of a warm day

dusty rain

and here is Niki's response:

after a day of sun
after working the garden
     sideways snow

from jenett:

in the heat of worry
in a storm of regret
  nothing changes

from Shelley:

under moss
under fallen leaves
forgotten acorns
 

before she left
before what passed for love —
who were you then?
 

from Paisley:

as the breath leaves
as the soul escapes
life begins

Next?

small poem ~ a poem dance!

UPDATED: We have a poem dance! Come dance with us! Add your poem in comments, or email it to me, and I'll add it to the dance.

 

new moon
spring rain
    begin again

                    ~ sb

 

       

 

inspiring thought
new chance
to understand

                    ~ jenett

 

 

sky
is hardest —
rainy day jigsaw

                    ~ Shelley

 

 

like a
breath of
fresh air

                    ~ niki

 

 

sun's jewels
sparkling all afternoon
across the tides

                    ~ bobbi

 

 

interiority
complex, a leaf
of fresh air                  

                    ~ Pearl

 

 

my dog stella
jumps and spins
within the snow

                    ~ Judith

 

 

From northern NH:

No shadows
outside my window~
snow suffocates spring.

                    ~ Linda Jacobs

 

 

eyes mirror
what lies deep
within our souls

yet change is set
like a story told
it must unfold

                    ~ Beloved Dreamer

 

 

Spring cold

I could water the world

through my nose.

                    ~ Cindy Smith

 

 

 

New Year Haiku

It's time for the Watermark New Year Haiku Collaborative Poem Dance!

You are invited to add your haiku in the comments, or you can email it to me at blogdiva AT sbpoet DOT com. Include a link to your site if you have one. Over the following few days, I'll pull the poems up into the post. Any haiku form is welcome -- including American Sentences.

Here are the contributions:

Almost time for the New Year Haiku

Three years ago, Andrew told me there is a tradition of writing a 'positive' haiku on the first day of the year. So I wrote one, and it became a collaborative poem dance. I forgot in 2006. We did one here at Watermark again last year, but I was late, and lax, and it was brief.

This year, folks are landing here again from searches for new year haiku, and I'm being much more consistent in my posting, so I decided to start early with a reminder to you all: the Watermark New Year Haiku Collaborative Poem Dance will appear here again this year, on January 1, 2008. That's Tuesday!

I'll put the post up early Tuesday morning, and you are invited to add your haiku in the comments, or you can email it to me at blogdiva AT sbpoet DOT com. Include a link to your site if you have one. Over the following few days, I'll pull the poems up into the post.

Any haiku form is welcome -- including American Sentences.

Here is a not-so-positive haiku, to send this year out:

year's end -
       the cat box full
              of old shit

 

 

RELATED POSTS:

• New Year Haiku 2008
• New Year Haiku 2005
• New Year Haiku 2007

SEE ALSO:

• small poems
• small poems @ Watermark
• Poem Dancing @ Watermark

New Year Haiku 2007

I keep getting visitors who are looking for New Year Haiku -- which I had here, two years ago -- when we did a New Year Haiku collaborative poem dance:

Andrew tells us there is a tradition of writing a 'positive' haiku on the first day of the year. His is here, and Jill has joined in here. Mine is below; if you would like to add yours to the comments, I'll bring it up for a New Year's poem dance.

Here is this year's haiku from Andrew. It's a bit late, but I think it's time for me (and maybe you?) to do it again. Mine is for Niki, today's birthday woman:

old moon, wolf moon
just past new year's
    celebration moon

 

& a quick note -- I've been a bit under the weather, as they say -- and that's why I'm so far behind on emails, responding to comments, and so on. Please keep on being patient with me. And -- thank you to Patia for the pointer to the moon names, which I expect to be using all year.

 

 

 

Very late [it's now August] I get back to this, to post:

From Pauline:

Winter Afternoon

Snow birds flit and swirl
Like remnants of windblown leaves.
Dusk descends too soon.

 

From Cathy:

Wednesday's full moon
brought no snow,
only false dreams.

 

From 8~) pam:

And we begin
to dance anew
filled with starry hope

 

and from Anne, a link to Moon Beauty.

 

 

My apologies to you all for these months of delay. Your poems are gifts, and I thank you for them.

RELATED POSTS:

• New Year Haiku 2008
• Almost time for the New Year Haiku
• New Year Haiku 2005

SEE ALSO:

• small poems
• small poems @ Watermark
• Poem Dancing @ Watermark

Snapshot Poem 14 June 02006

I am stubborn, sulky
and sullen, caught
in a thorned net
of dreams --

too many children
in need of rescue,
too many villains
smug, and famously

unpunished. I am
a glass jar, filled
with judgement
and despair --

even as a rainbow
circles the sun;
even as the aspen
sings and shimmers

in the wind. I refuse
to take pleasure.
I will not listen.
I will not see.

UPDATE: Andrew has written a response to this poem, thus, perhaps, beginning another collaborative poem dance. You are all invited; just add your poem to the comments, and I will bring it up and add it to the post. Here's Andrew's:

I am open to
suggestion, free
in a life of
comfort and choices,

my children so
secure and active,
villains locked away
in the jug, silenced

forever. I am
a strong breeze, filling
sails of laughter
and life --

a rainbow around
the sun, a white gum
by the river
as it shimmers

in response. I delight
in taking pleasure.
I hear the city
whispering and see
the ocean lapping.

From Cathy:

Then again

I am a jar
that’s sitting outside

Maybe the rains
will come and the rainwater
will fill and overflow
this jar,

till all is wash away

Renewing me back
to the pureness of hope.

From Lynn:

I AM

I am milky, warm
and moist. I am the thing
you see in the mirror
that vanishes
when you look at it
dead on.
I am not your child,
or your mother,
or you for that matter.
I am the thing
that rescues,
that pushes you
to the edge
then pulls you back.
I am what you want
at night, what you won’t
talk about the next morning.
I am your all-access pass,
your movie marathon,
the thing you and your friends
giggle about when you think
I’m not within earshot.
I am tougher than nails.
I am in control.
I’m onto you.
I’m not what you think I am.

small poem

before you came back
i didn't miss you

UPDATE 24 January: We seem to have begun a new poem dance. I'm bringing up the ones in comments; if you'd like to contribute (please do!) just add yours in comments and I'll bring it up, too.

Until I saw and heard,
I didn't know I understood.

Posted by: endment

You're gone again
and I'm unsure,waiting

Posted by: Cathy

you're back
you're here      
-are you?

Posted by: patrick

how did I live
before you were born?

Posted by: Erin

I'm always facing
the wrong way with you

Posted by: Karla

New Year Haiku

Andrew tells us there is a tradition of writing a 'positive' haiku on the first day of the year.  His is here, and Jill has joined in here.  Mine is below; if you would like to add yours to the comments, I'll bring it up for a New Year's poem dance.

frozen garden --
     scattered on snow
          seed for the birds

from  Sarpy Sam:

Seasons turn around
  Sun,snow streaks the air abound
    Friends, like grass arise

from  mjones:

Voice flutes from below,
shutting out the wind. I think:
He'll be four this year.

from  whiskey:

Resolutions? No.
I have promises to keep
and miles, miles to go.

from   Alice:

the past is written
clean new page, fresh ink to write
what comes after this

from  Ken:

Cymbals bright and pure
Bounce off players singing horns
Musicians' New Year

from   Dave:

this one; and

To what shall I liken
this New Year's, warm and brown?
It happens, that's all.

 

from   Cathy:

New day-
leave the paper

white

from  Cindy:

Nearly flash-frozen
on the beach: north wind gusts down
Gastineau Channel.

from   jenett:

Come in from the rain
Reinvent and try again
New without the pain

   

RELATED POSTS:

• New Year Haiku 2008
• Almost time for the New Year Haiku
• New Year Haiku 2007

SEE ALSO:

• small poems
• small poems @ Watermark
• Poem Dancing @ Watermark

A Few Things

A reminder that Carnival of the Cats will be here at Watermark this week; get your entries in by 5:00 PM mountain time on Sunday.  Last time it was here we had a great turnout; let's do that again!

Andrew, Patia, Cindy, Roger, Liz, Cathy, Dave, and Patrick, and Kalamity have all joined the dance.  Have you danced yet?

Have I gone mad?  I'm considering doing this:

National Novel Writing Month is a fun, seat-of-your-pants approach to novel writing. Participants begin writing November 1. The goal is to write a 175-page (50,000-word) novel by midnight, November 30.

That's about six pages, or 1700 words, per day.  They say It's all about quantity, not quality, which could be good practice for a perfectionist.  On the other hand, it sometimes takes me nearly a day to do one Watermark post (especially on Fridays.)

I've never considered writing a novel, and have no idea what my novel might be about. I don't know that my energy would support such an endeavor. Most starters don't finish, though, so there would be no shame in that. 

What do you think?  Are any of my readers doing this?

Heh

Non-blogger Cindy has just made a great contribution to the latest collaborative poem dance. If you haven't been following this, now would be a good time to start.

Poem Dancing II

Another collaborative poem dance seems to be in process -- go here to add yours!

Snapshot 29 September 02004

when the muse goes
what is left?
      -- only autumn

      

UPDATE:  Hmm, maybe I could make this a little love poem:

when you go
what is left?
      -- only autumn

      

What do you think?

Andrew suggests:

when he goes
what is left?
      -- only autumn

      

Patia offers:

when you go
what is left?
      -- only love

      

From Cindy:

when he goes
what is left?
      -- dirty dishes

      

From Roger:

when they go
what is left?
      -- tranquility

      

From Liz Kirby:

When Autum goes
what is left?
      -- Another season.

      

Cathy has done something a little different, using my poem as the first stanza of a new piece:

when the muse goes
what is left?
      -- only autumn

And from there-
you’ll let the worries
fall with the leaves.

      

Dave, following Cathy's lead, offers:

when the muse goes
what is left?
      -- only autumn
each morning the once-
free leaves of grass
made to rime
by frost.

      

From Patrick:

only autumn
as you go
comes winter

      

From Kalamity:

When the muse goes
with the crows
what is left?
-- only autumn
cool weather,
leaves and feathers

      

From mjones:

Look, the tree is red!
Look!
           My son is enraptured.
Autumn needs no muse.

      

Have we begun another collaborative poem dance?  Crows is my favorite post ever; let's do it again!  Use at least one line from a previous poem; leave your poem in the comments (or email me); and I will bring it up to add to the dance.

Another Crow

Crows on the riverbank -- and a new poem on the Crows post. They just keep flying in!

crows

in the park
four crows eating
at the picnic table

UPDATE:  This has become a collaborative poem dance!  I am pulling these up from the comments; anyone who would like to participate, please do, and I'll bring yours up, too.

outside the window
of my third-floor office
crows shriek and gurgle

       Patia at montana mUsIngs


Crows screech, "We're all that!"
The Magpies beg to differ,
"Are you shiny blue?"

      Wulfgar at A Chicken Is Not Pillage


four eggs, separated -
even before breakfast
eating crow

      Deborah at AuthorsDen


field ridges frozen -
a crow scrapes sound
from a crack in the sky

      Sara


hard wind
the shadow of a crow
still beside mine

      Norman at Xaiku


on the snowbank by the road
a calligraphy of crows
poem to the coming night

      Cindy


flat grey sky
calligraphy
of crows

      SB


clever and dark winged
trickster with much
within to crow about

      Morgan at Norsehorse's Home Turf


A murder of crows.
Guilty as charged.
A crime of passion...
that they could not foresee.
But now it is done,
and the crows know.
Their time will come.

      Big Sky Dave at Big Sky Dave


Two crows eating at the picnic table
One named Cain and one named Able
This table's mine said Cain
No it's not said Able
I can kill you said Cain
But you won't said Able
Oh yes I will said Cain,
Remember the Bible fable
You mean when Cain killed Abel?
Haha but my name is Able
said Able.

      Natalie at BLAUGUSTINE


In the last moment,
as the final breath was drawing nearer
I saw an angel flying with a crow
Looking for those who are near
To beckon them with the release of death
to take their souls back home.

      Jen at [para]Bellum.[net]

   

on the hillside
over the coulee
an ancient snag of a tree.

wizened branches dotted
with a flock of starlings --
tiny, black.

on the highest branches
two giant elders
not crows -- ravens.

       Patia at montana mUsIngs


mist haze-
a crow cleans its beak
on a rooftop aerial

a hooded crow
pecks just outside
the penalty area

rooftop verandah -
a crow's drawn out cry
above the pizzaria

powdered snow -
a crow's eyes above
the no parking sign

floating snowflakes -
the triple caw of a crow
within the tree

      Alan Summers at FRONT ROOM


The crow extends it wings too fair
But misses the currents that maintains its air
Knowing that lifes a fragile thing
Meets with others to deaden the pain.

      Sarpy Sam at Thoughts from the Middle of Nowhere


she waits
for her lover
a crow alights
on her shoulder
to pick at the carcass
of what was once her
bleeding heart
and still
she waits

      Pandora at Terrestrial Ball


winter poplar
buds crawk open
into crows

*****

a knotted line,
knuckled black leather legs
-- silhouetted twigs
regular Mr. Crow and his
crow knees gathered,
edging the sky

       Pearl at Page Half-Full


playful dogs -
the strident caw
of a nesting crow

       Laryalee at Soft Strokes


Black crow rest against
the maple’s red buds,
resting against the white sky.

The plane’s white exhaust
twists into clouds of many.

A foot is shifted,
falling snow turns
into a white waterfall.

Widening, the blue sky
adds more sun for the day’s light.

All this in five minutes.

       Cathy at The Quiet One


         *Reconnaissance*

The ravens come to feast upon the deer.
Their talons are too dull to tear like claws.
They smartly team with wolves, as hunting peers
And point the way to road kill with their caws.

These creatures love to play, nurse others' chicks,
Do barrel-rolls and bathe collectively,
Use rocks for self-defense and play with sticks
And flying upside down proclaim they're free.

But still, to man, an animal can't feel --
We daren't believe they love or hurt or think.
We cage them all in labs and farms concealed:
The human 'masters' cannot face the stink.

Our bankrupt, separate culture's madness reigns.
We think. Ergo we end the world, /with brains/.

       Dave at how to save the world


Raven

       SB


a sparrow
chases a crow away --
paternity

       David


Work

The mind bunches its black shoulders
and flaps free of the body.
How serious the mind is!
Tilting its glossed head.
Marching stiff-legged in ditches.

       Erin Noteboom at Vivid
       Work is from Book of Hours


he was not
interested
in crows
family corvidae
he had never been
would not
write a poem
about them ever
and sat
in his lounger
in his garden
and woke up
to find himself
surrounded by
an ever thickening
hungrily closing in
ring of black crows
sharp beaked crows
nasty ravens, carrions,rooks
and smelly tacky jackdaws
he suddenly frantically
changed his mind
and then inspired
grabbing paper
seizing pen wrote
to a satisfied cawing
and wing flapping.

       Patrick McManus


Blacks cats
turn into crows,
who scamper into
the morning sky.

       Cathy at The Quiet One

CROWS.

Awakened to the sound of crows
Caparisoned in feathers,
Iridescent, black and sleek,
Rapping at their reflections in my window,
With their insolent beaks.
Each crow it seems a strutting villain,
Straight from Shakespeare,in their
black stockinged leg,
A Richard King, on little princes feasting,
Mere babes too young,
  to fall from the nest, or beg
For Mercy!  For Merccyyy!!

Yeah each crow becomes Macbeth
when he clears his throat to speak,
Or nonchalantly cleans on bloodied wing
the daggered beak.
Or holds in the arrogant, tilted head held dreaming,
The dark sardonic eye, that dreaming seems to say,
  that schemeing seems to say,
"Oh How I Wish the Human Race
  Had but single face,
So that I might spit in it,
Once and for all,
  To show my complete,
    and utter disgust,
       with the whole,
                  damn,
                     show.."
and screaming they fly flapping,away.
Crows! How they Crow!

-Guy FreeMarijuana. [Copyright2003]

I Dream

I dream I am an eagle
A symbol of
Power, strength and beauty
Envied by all

I dream I am a parrot
A clown
In vibrant colours
Loved by all

I dream I am an owl
A silent night hunter
With bright yellow eyes
Unseen by all

I dream I am a snake
A symbol of
The devil
Feared by all

Awake now
I am but a Crow
A symbol of
Witchcraft and spells
Condemned by all

Open your mind
Condemn me not
Because my feathers black
My body sleek
My eyes white, piercing
My cry, a sound you do not like

Open your mind
And understand what I am
I am your garbage truck
You leave such a mess
Rubbish in the parks, roads
Almost everywhere

Open your mind
You may yet respect me
For if I were not here
Your diseases spread everywhere
So next time you see me in the Park
Ask, is that my rubbish
I left behind

Open your mind
When you condemn me
You condemn yourself

Trixie Benbrook [Copyright 2002]

 

black shape on white snow

fathomless as a deep hole

until the crow caws

Jacquie at wild ink

 

The crow
hopping with hunger
three fingers wrapped around
another's
as he leads to the nest.

Arkava Das at sciowithbrio

 

...we do not see
what we do not eat
can I have a bite then
of your tatoo

         my own ravens love for me

Dale
   

 

Cool flying crow from How To Save The World, who found it at Boomer Cafe.

More about crows.

More Poem Dancing

A PoetryEtc poet, Douglas Barbour,  has again extended, and deepened, one of my poems, Snapshot 02 June 02004.  Douglas' poem stands well on its own, but I have reprinted my piece so you can see what inspired his (posted here with his permission.)  The first three stanzas are mine; the rest is Douglas':

a week of grief      
and broken things      

but then the moon      
filled out round      

& this bright      
birdsong morning      

    ----------------    

a forlorn denial  now one
week gone    the storm
of news & conversation
grief brings

and reminds us that all
broken promises promised
things would get better

but who said that    &
then who can believe
the same old stories   even the
moon goes through the motions now

filled with the usual cunning
out go stars
round that full light

& a line of flight makes
this night complicit   that
bright day rises to

birdsong  as if the
morning were really new

Collaborative Poem Dancing

On Thursday, I posted this small poem both here and on the PoetryEtc Listserve:

at the altar
an old woman
counting breaths

      

Now look at what the PoetryEtc poets did with it!

at the altar
an old woman
counting breaths

inspiration, expiration -
one purl, one plain

one pearl, one pain

one puff one flap
one left or to attain
one here or there
as it is everywhere

one pearl
one lost
since the markers of elegance moved on
since breaths at the altar are counted in black beads

one plain
decrease
here where the knee bends
where drawing breath might count for something

a pearl
of great price

telling beads
expiation, expectation
for decades
the varieties of precipitation
joyful
sorrowful
glorious

black pearl, lucrescent seed,
one joy, one pain, bittersweets the eye

falling from the needle
a curtain of white tears
pears at the point of ripeness

her slack mouth tells
forms the oh of them
black germ in pale flesh

nascent, oystered
many smiles, many sighs,
breaking open one

mortal shell,
come, o come, divinest shell
in my heart all thy secrets tell

      

Dancers:  Anny Ballardini; Joanna Boulter; Andrew Burke; Deborah L. Humphreys; Liz Kirby; and Rebecca Seiferle.