Last evening while the setting sun was writing its own story cantankerous clouds to the right were leaving deep smudges in the evening skies.
The bird songs outside my window were unrelenting, piercing the roar of the harsh spring winds. Even the delicate cherry blossoms are standing up to this latest rage.
It seems we are all to discover what we are made of. In the end, we are all just holding on.
the ire of spring
that will not be placated –
For Haibun Monday over at dVerse who is hosting with a theme of “Cherry Blossoms”. To view other entries go here
Also linking to Tanka Tuesday over at Colleen where the prompt is to take a photo from your day and write a poem in relation to it. To see other entries go here
A new madness on the march
intent on a deadly swath across the land.
Flexing power, thought long gone.
Terror now reins
unsettling time and space
Stuffing all through the eyes of this unforgiving storm
I wait, with tentative hopes for spring
For quadrille (a 44wordpoem) night over at dVerse Poets Pub where the prompt offered was “Eye”. Björn is hosting. To part take, or just read go here
…”Quaint and curious war is!”
Sons and daughters one and all
Go forth and live your young lives
As now, leaders who declare war
face each other like jousting knights
The rest of us shall stay home and place bets
“Yes; quaint and curious war is!
You shoot a fellow down
You’d treat if met where any bar is,
Or help to half-a-crown.”
⁃ Thomas Hardy
from, ‘The Man He Killed’
For dVerse Poets Pub
Photo – That’s the moon! Taken 2 days ago off the pier the moon was rising as the sun was setting. Awesome!
an uneasy peace
small glimpse of spirit of hope
hanging by a thread
frayed nerves huddle in witness,
interesting times are afoot
Lest we forget
our raging insanity
For Haiku Horizons Prompt: forget
the sinew that unites us outweighs
the differences that are the causes of
conflicts that have us mourn
and wonder how could such things be
time to do the thinking with the other end
law born of repression
will have no base in justice
it’s no kin to peace
Photo from War exhibit at the Brooklyn Museum
of men who go to war
the rest of us who have never seen war
dare to expect those who have made it through
to return to norm when there is no longer any norm
after a man has seen death
come near to being dead
there is no fitting back in
no matter how old they get
patches of horror continues to inhabit their soul
day to day survival then becomes their new war