poetry


The reaction to my most recent haiku – the most ‘likes’ on any post of mine since I began blogging some 16 months ago – has really inspired me to stop and try to express my thoughts in 17 syllables more often. Of course, over the months I’ve learned that there are many other formats for a haiku, but the rigid discipline of 5-7-5 really appeals to me. In some ways this has similarities to the discipline of writing headlines and advertising copy – part of my professional activity for over 50 years – conveying a thought in very few words. I’ve also learned the importance of that change of thought in the last five syllables.

It all began with a box of photos and a regular blogger of haiku who has since, sadly, disappeared – fivereflections. At the time I came across his haiku below I was sorting through photographs found in a box at my recently deceased mother’s home. Here it is:

from the old locked box
photographs you left behind
my eyes become yours

I found a photograph of a Coronation street party in 1953, and felt ‘my eyes become yours’ – I saw through my mother’s eyes – as the photo showed myself and siblings together with neighbouring children in a play I wrote – it wasn’t my first piece of fiction but it was my first play … and my last.

Picture haiku

The 5-7-5 pattern appealed to me and I constructed a ‘haiku’ with just pictures from the box, though I did feel obliged to pen some lines with it.

However, having a passion for photography, some of my own photographs, and eventually those of others, prompted a haiku as soon as I saw them.

Then it occurred to me that maybe a picture and a haiku could be conceived together, the words and the envisaged image being formed in the mind at the same time. A walk in a church graveyard inspired two.

The ‘rowan tree’ haiku was like this: the tree immediately formed as a picture and haiku together in my mind. However, there was something missing and I had to go back with a camera later to realise what had been missing – sun.

Looking back through my ‘haiku’ posts I thought it would be a good idea to put them all under a ‘haiku’ menu heading, so that is what I have done, but … wait for it …

… I discovered that the rowan tree was the seventeenth haiku I had published, the first from ‘fivereflections’, followed by sixteen of my own.

Green satiated

Winter songsters’ sanguine store

Shiver prophesy

Rowan tree in berry

I haven’t been motivated to try a haiku for some time. As often happens, a ‘like’ – on my previous post – took me to a new world. Not geographically – Marsden village is bounded by scenery as beautiful as anywhere in Yorkshire though not as well known as the dales in which I live, so I have visited and walked there often. David Coldwell’s ‘like’ took me to The Cotton Grass Appreciation Society. And motivation.

This is one of the busiest times of the year for my work as the charity I work for takes part in numerous outside events and I usually have to set them up and take them down at the end of the day. Last Saturday I was at a local school which raises money for us, and Sunday I was at the Dragon Boat Challenge in York, where we had a fundraising stall. So I haven’t had a lot of time for blogging, or reading the many which I follow.

The Optimistic Pessimist's poem on display in Lofty's rear window

The Optimistic Pessimist’s poem on display in Lofty’s rear window

However, I said in my most recent post that Lofty, my VW camper, had not only insisted I reblogged a poem – Campervan – penned by Bradford’s blogger the Optimistic Pessimist, but that I printed it out and displayed it in his window. That I had not had time to do.

So, apart from giving me all sorts of problems changing gear (he needs a new clutch), yesterday on a visit to nearby Bronte land – ie Haworth – he refused to start to bring us home.

I promised that the poem would go in today and, possibly helped by a jump start from the leisure battery, he got us home.

We have a lot of steep hills around here so I really must get the clutch done – I had quite a problem to pull away on a 1 in 3 today – but with no place to do it, not the tools necessary and, more important, getting too long in the tooth to do such things now, it’s a garage job so I have to find a day I can do without him as he’s my daily ride (and travelling B&B!).

He also runs on LPG, half the cost of running on petrol, so I will only trust someone who knows the LPG system to pull the engine (or, more to the point, put it back and get it running correctly again) for the new clutch.

I’ll have to get it done soon; I should be on annual leave for the rest of the month after 7 August so I don’t want to be stranded in the Yorkshire Dales, let alone maybe in the north of Scotland!

Originally posted on The optimistic pessimist:

Box of dreams

Wardrobe to other worlds

Part of the gang

We wave at our own

Like crazy people

Because we know

We share the joy

Perfect joy

Of freedom

On wheels

Where every day is perfect

Every meal the most amazing

Every moment with you

In that perfect little place

To keep us together

Trapped in the same room

Never bored

Always happy

Happy like

You can’t remember

What sad feels like

Just filled to brimming

With joy.

View original

Witches   tread with care

Beware our bouquet    spiky

Healthy human food

A black and white picture of wild garlic

Wild garlic in the Washburn Valley, June, Yorkshire

Photo on Olympus OM4, Zuiko 50mm f/1.8, Ilford PanF Plus 50, stand-developed RO9

madness frozen out

bones interred together        warmed

peace       buds in waiting

Early morning view from my sitting room window: the clock tower of the once notorious Victorian "lunatic asylum" at Menston, now luxury flats. Over 2,000 bodies of former inmates are buried close by

Early morning view from my sitting room window: the clock tower – about 1/2 mile away – of the once notorious Victorian “lunatic asylum” at Menston, now luxury flats. Over 2,000 bodies of former inmates are buried, together, close by

A deep thought minute

click     to     click                   is time enough

the wind raged sea             calmed

I haven’t published a haiku, I haven’t written a haiku, for some time.

What I have found is that, for me, composing a haiku requires a certain state of mind, a calm which has been missing from the recent hustle and bussle in my life, mainly catching up on some work projects which had slipped. But there has also been the attempt to get back into film photography, some of the hassles and frustrations of which I’ve been documenting on my other blog, grumpytykepix. And then there are some aspects of everyday life in the present-day UK.

The work catch-up is almost complete. I have finally accepted that getting back into film is not going to be a easy as I thought. And the irritation of so many things imposed upon us, mainly by politicians and the mass media, is being resolved by writing about them (even though my promised ‘grump’ on this blog is, as yet, only in draft).

I’ve been fascinated by a picture published some time ago on one of my favourite photo blogs, ‘Shimmering Grains’. It showed what seemed to be a calm, almost ethereal, scene of the sea. In fact, it was taken during a gale but the sea has been calmed by a long time exposure. A perfect illustration of the oft mis-voiced ‘quote’ – “As tyme hem hurt, a tyme doth hem cure”, Chaucer; or “Time is the healer of all necessary evils”, Menander.

The picture above is a screen grab; the original picture is at:

http://shimmeringgrains.com/2012/10/23/long-exposures-by-the-sea/

But if you find beautiful photographs of things natural therapeutic, I’d recommend following this Swedish photographer’s blog.

Chirruping crickets

All else mute   they look to dawn

Winter waits    restore

I got pollen

I got nectar

I got freedom

Who could ask for anything more?

         With deference to George and Ira Gershwin

Biscuits cut from sky

Baking in the summer sun

Heaven gives     look up

Alt for American audience:

Cookies cut from sky

Baking in the summer sun

Heaven gives    look up

These shapes immediately brought to mind the tiny ‘biscuits’ which are a part of any celebration in the part of Romania I know well – the northern part. In many different shapes – crescents, stars, cones and many others – they are known as ‘fursecuri’, which I cannot translate but can pronounce: foor-sec-oorr. The only picture I could find of them is:

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