In the mood for micropoetry…

Haven't written a lot of micropoetry since November 2017, when I hosted 
Micropoetry Month (You can also find the link in the sidebar). 
Time to give it another shot, maybe?

(1)
nothing
black wing on tangerine sky
and…still…nothing

(2)
summer solstice
how short this night
how long her empty sigh

(3)
one moon stirred pond
one splash of insomniac frog
what are the odds

(4)
rain falls on glass
on tile
on leaves-
so many ways
the sky calls out your name

(5)
wordless question
slanting shadows
kneel on the bamboo mats

(6)
between her and the night
a paper lantern
with one eye

(7)
even the moth
that burns in the flame
first sees the light

(8)
in the distance
autumn
I tremble with the leaves

(9)
stirring the afternoon
lone crow
with a broken wing

Micropoetry Month: Nov 2017: #30

Micropoetry MonthOn this last day of the first edition of Micropoetry Month, I thought we’d take a look at the Jisei, the Japanese Death Poem. The Jisei, written about death in general or about one’s own imminent death, reflects the poet’s contemplation of his mortality, of what was and what comes next both in the context of self and universe.

One translation of Basho’s famous Jisei goes like this:

On a journey, ill—
And my dreams on withered fields
Are wandering still.

I attempted a jisei a couple of years ago, here’s another shot at it. Share your micropoem, about death or maybe about life, using comments or Mister Linky.

And when I realize
there was no now,
that life, like time, was a linear illusion.
Like death.
What then?

A cherita as well in the same tone:

she wrote her jisei in six lines

one line about
the fickle, waning moon

two about a persistent mist,
and three about a hobbled dream
waiting for a perfect night

 

A very warm note of thanks to everyone who was part of Micropoetry Month – as reader, participant, inspiration or supporter. Thank you for your poems, your likes, your comments. I enjoyed writing. I enjoyed reading. And I hope we can do this, or something like this, again soon. Meanwhile, I will continue to post micropoetry and other poems on this blog and haibun on my other blog Phantom Road.  You can find me on twitter @tp_poetry. See you on the trail! 

Micropoetry Month: Nov 2017: #18

Micropoetry MonthYesterday’s experiment with tanka impels me  to take it further with ‘Tanka Prose’. Like a haibun but with a signature tanka instead of a haiku, this is an excellent form to stretch one’s imagination and word crafting skills even further.

Try this or any other form of micropoetry and share using comments or Mister Linky.

Without Words

For days we climbed together. Sometimes they disappeared into the mist ahead, sometimes they lingered on the edges. I could always hear their whispered voices, even as the sky slipped closer. But now the words are gone and I have been orphaned by the need to speak. In their soundless absence, the river is just one ceaseless motion, the moon in it is just a point of reflection and this moment is both big enough to fill the universe and small enough to tremble as the cold wind rushes by. What will the birds call me if I do not have a name?

on the other side
of the horizon-
the eagle’s wing
dips into
the silent dark

 

Micropoetry Month: Nov 2017: #17

Micropoetry MonthA couple of tanka this Friday morning!
The beauty of tanka comes from the juxtaposition of disparate images, the gentle twist, the tug of emotion.

Try a tanka or two! Share your own micropoetry using comments or Mister Linky.

(1)

candles and flowers,
an impromptu memorial
where the horror struck-
one goodbye on a page ripped
from a new school book

(2)

the moon and I
like strangers
in an elevator-
trying not to look
at each other

 

Micropoetry Month: Nov 2017: #7

Micropoetry MonthTime for a Tanka, don’t you think. Always a massive challenge to get right, a tanka can be crafted in so many ways but I believe it works better if it says much more than the five lines allow and says it with subtlety, emotion and mindfulness.

Write your own tanka or any other kind of micropoetry and share it through comments or Mister Linky.

uneasy,
this monsoon sky
heaves inside my heart-
how can I hear his footsteps
in the pounding rain

This tanka takes me back to a poetweet (exactly 140 characters long including spaces and punctuation) I wrote almost three years ago:

A mango tree
outside my window
has broken into song.
Hush, I warn,
gather your boughs,
rein in your leaves,
tonight he may whisper his love.

 

Month of Micropoetry – Coming Up

Micropoetry in all its glorious forms is the essence of communication – succinct, layered, seductive and beautiful in its soulful brevity. Am going to be posting micropoetry every day, all through November. Thought I’d warm up my blog with a couple of tanka I posted on twitter earlier. If you’d like to write micropoetry with me by sharing your poem (in the comments section) or link (using the Mr Linky widget), do let me know. Who knows, it might be a fun journey – saying little, saying a lot, travelling far.

(1)

after long weeks
the grey monsoon
packs its clouds and leaves-
the turmeric sun
smiles like a stranger

(2)

before poetry
a boy with a kite
was just that-
a tethered dream
writing haiku on empty cerulean

Say hello, share a poem, join the conversation!