Welcome to WIZ’s Spring Poetry Runoff open invitation haiku chain. This is a non-competitive (that is, not part of the poetry contest), come-as-you-are, just-for-fun activity that we run from time to time here on WIZ.
A haiku is a classical Japanese poetical form, usually 17 syllables all in a single line in Japanese, but I understand that there are longer and shorter forms. In English, a haiku often takes the form of one short line of 5 syllables, a long line of 7 syllables, and a short line of 5 syllables, but there are many paths–take your pick. Often, haiku mention the season under scrutiny–in this case spring, obviously. If you wish to learn more about haiku, you can go here or here.
The rules: Really, there aren’t any. How it usually goes is someone starts the chain–today, it’s Sean aka greenfrog. Somebody follows him, adding a single haiku in the comments, and then another person takes a turn, and around we go. Other than the informal, “one-at-a-time-please” tradition, there’s no limit to turns a participant can take and no deadline for this activity. It runs as long as it runs. So if you feel inclined to add a thread to the tapestry, don’t be shy.
Here’s Sean’s opening haiku:
The bud embedded
In the matrix of branch and
Earth and sun and spring.
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Sean/greenfrog makes his home in the Denver area and blogs occasionally about yoga and meditation. You can visit his blog In Limine here.
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the rain hasn’t stopped
forty days & forty nights
I so need new shoes
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Falling rains fill the sky,
Melt the earth, softening stone,
Pressing life upward.
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Snowmelt spins soils in
liquid winds; spring’s air stream floods
the sky with flown earth.
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Wind tears sand from stone,
Scouring the untarnished sky.
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gf, mind if I …?
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By all means
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Wind tears sand from stone,
Scouring the untarnished sky,
Rasping its bowl blue.
Wanted to try to work in the auditory effect, which around here could be said to be grating.
[edited 3/27 @ 7:40 pm (inverted “blue” and “bowl”)–a perk of blog administration]
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cattail-ringed sloughs wake
male red-winged blackbirds return
making nests they sing
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Wild spring buckwheat cracks
bud-fists to spread yellow bright
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Wild spring buckwheat cracks
bud-fists to spread yellow bright
sparks above pale green
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In the Pines
Resplendent columns
descend thick boughs–new-growth tips,
needle-covered loam.
Gentled sun rays touch
opening violet petals
with yellow centers.
She plucks slender stems,
a full bouquet for mother
amid the needles.
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Trio
leaves from a distant
fall, turkey vultures blow in
on spring’s tumble-winds
mountain bluebird lights
in an unbloomed peach tree, a
brief cobalt flower
mourning dove’s soft drawl
adds warmth to an evening’s
low-burning silence
(First stanza’s for you, greenfrog.)
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wild phlox blossoms in
sunrise-tinged clouds–pink, lilac–
across spring’s expanse
Am I the only one playing in the sandbox now?
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phlox and daffodils
winds shift around to the east
flowers surge skies growl
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