Nothing left to do,
Nowhere else I need to be.
I love Christmas Eve.
Christmas candle fills
The air with cranberry cheer,
Whatever that is.
Your mission is to write five haikus — one for each of the five days leading up to this Friday when we will choose some entries and feature them on Freshly Pressed.
Wise words always sound ridiculously more sage and profound when they’re written in the form of Haiku. So here’s my five deeply philosophical attempts to attain WordPress fame. And if Freshly Pressed is not in my future, what the hell.
Horoscope readings can be enigmatic, bewildering and about as clear as mud. I know they’re generously peppered with words like possibly, likely, might and may, so that no matter how insane the prediction sounds as a whole, there’s always some little obscure bit of it that is close enough to the truth to make you wonder. Or at the very least laugh and roll your eyes.
Haiku is a little like that too. Although originally it wasn’t supposed to be funny. The poems were songs, prayers, and incantations to the gods, meant to celebrate an awareness of the moment, holding all things in reverence. A haiku is a sort of meditation, conveying an image or a feeling. Of course if you’re not Japanese you’ll have a harder time getting it right. But you can still be happy with your “English Haiku” efforts simply by saying what you think and adhering to the 5-7-5 syllable pattern. Never mind all that stuff about season words, two-part juxtapositional structure, and objective sensory imagery. Really. I did some research and ended up with a headache.
But not a severe enough one to stop me from mixing horoscope with haiku and coming up with some incredible poetry. That’s what I’m calling it. You may want to describe it some other way.
Cranky love partner,
it’s time to pick a path and
try to heal the rift.
When you are patient
on the upside or the down,
gaps become smaller.
Make him a sandwich.
Love will bloom if you never
let him get hungry.
Don’t just go along
ignoring your best talents.
Get off your fat ass.
Try to get along,
accept all the differences,
A blast of romance
will broaden your horizons
with far-reaching change.
if you travel far away,
persevere my dear.
My horoscope didn’t use the exact words get off your fat ass. I improvised on that phrase and a few others. Think haiku horoscope will catch on? Personally I’m kind of hoping this is a one time thing and we never see it again.
She can’t sleep at night.
Laptop glow is blinding but
Still her eyes won’t close.
Because some days are like this.
I just don’t want to be here
please let me go home
When I was little I decided one day to eat some dirt. Just to get it over with. I remember thinking that since life was full of all kinds of things you had to do that were unpleasant, it was probably a good plan to do them as you thought of them, rather than let them all pile up and have a lot of them to do all at once. So eating dirt was one I could get out of the way, and once it was done I would never have to concern myself with it again. Pretty convoluted thinking for a little kid. I remember it tasted pretty disgusting.
Since I did my blog on the 98 things a woman should do in her lifetime, I cannot get it out of my head that I really need to write three haiku poems about my most amazing, horrible and baffling sexual experiences. I draw the line at framing them for my ‘boudoir’ – even dirt eaters have their limits.
So, here they are.
Down by the boat locks
Lost in each other ’til dawn.
This is forever.
(Well, let’s face it, it’s pretty difficult to relate a very personal experience and have other people get it. And being restricted to five-seven-five syllables it’s damned hard to fit in anything even remotely erotic. When we went to school in St. Catharines, W. and I used to drive down to the canal and “watch the boats”. This particular night I don’t remember if there were any ships going by or not. But that was the night we knew it would last, and it WAS amazing.)
Sand chafes. Too much beer.
Heart throb retches on the beach.
Bad scene, so screwed up.
(This goes way back to when I was an experimenting teenager, and I’m a little happier with the images it conjures up, although I seriously wanted to use the ‘f’ word. To really emphasize that passion and puking don’t mix. So feel free to substitute it in the last line. You know how they say your first time is so memorable? I believe they’re right.)
Big talk, wants action.
So much hype for what goes down.
Think perhaps he’s gay.
(Well, I mean really, how else do you explain the sudden backing down and subsequent lack of interest in me. There was no chemistry. And he was such a nice guy too.)
OKAY! I have satisfactorily gotten this haiku nonsense out of my system. It is WAY harder than it looks and I am SO never attempting it again. Unless there’s a choice between writing haiku and swallowing bugs, in which case I might reconsider.
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