Posts Tagged ‘ cattails ’

cattails, April 2021

eviction notice
in a sidewalk puddle . . .
a stray and its shadow

搬遷通知
漂浮在人行道上的水坑裡
一隻流浪狗和它的影子

Chen-ou Liu, Canada

starlit night
in the winter hay
still some wind of June

sternenklare Nacht
im Winterheu
noch etwas Juniwind

Benno Schmidt, Germany

bereft among
a myriad of cosmic colors realizing too late
i should have loved myself unconditionally

Pamela A. Babusci, USA

The Street

Carmela Marino, Italy

a robin’s song
the part of the garden
always in the shade

Setting out to go to work, it is still dark outside, hands in my pocket, the mask on my face. The street begins to flow under my feet, the sky over my head, the smell of the leaves and of the night rain.

The starry sky covers all, even the garbage shines in a shimmer of frost. A sense of peace floats in me and this seems to slow down my walking.

bitter cold—
a piece of the moon
in the dirty water

A street lamp turns on and off on the odds and ends, arranged with great care by illegal sellers on dirty cloths on the sidewalk. One step further, in dim light, curved into himself, a tramp sits on a wall, with his companion, a bottle of beer.

Nothing escapes my gaze, I feel each instant of life around me.

the last star—
a stranger prays
to his God

At the pedestrian crossing I catch the eyes of a passerby smiling. What she is thinking? I begin to walk uphill: the blades of grass move together and at the whisper of my mantra under the mask: ”thanks thanks thanks” the screech of a seagull.

winter fog—
the breath of the world
joins mine

Source: cattails: a journal of the united haiku and tanka society

the lurid red by Donna Fleischer / Cattails Winter 2014

the lurid red
of a Japanese maple,
time to part

 

– Donna Fleischer
cattailsPremier issue
January 2014

newcattailspic

Ticking In the Silence, a haibun by Donna Fleischer / cattails, premier issue January 2014

Ticking In The Silence
Donna Fleischer, USA

neighbor elm
first friend the child
leaves behind

At 84, Ann my favorite aunt succumbed to dementia, swept away dust panned off to assisted living, healthy as an oak angry as hell. Her last civilian request—bring home a real burger! devoured it in gulps, no pinky finger full sail.

icy eaves
unable to land     the blue jay
shrieks

With a port-wine stain on her left cheek and eyelid, independence seemed Ann’s refuge. At 20 she took her first train, Hartford to New York City, a modeling job audition. All that way for an assistant who would blurt out in a packed waiting room “And who do you think you are, coming here with a face like that?”

She’d pay for my mother and I to ride the train with her into Grand Central, go on expedition through the American Museum of Natural History, get lost in the Metropolitan Museum of Art and float all the way up the Empire State Building drop a nickel in the viewer, the sound of time ticking in the silence at the top of the world.

At 94, toward her days ending Ann loved for me to read aloud from of all things Joe Brainard’s I Remember, lighting up at each brass ring of a prose poem caught in a midair moment

nameless painting
on the ancient wall
. . . cold sun

 

Donna Fleischer
cattails, Premier issue
January 2014

newcattailspic