Posts Tagged ‘ haibun ’
The House on the Hill
Alan Summers
Ekphrastic haibun inspired by:
‘House on the Hill’ by Helen Garrett
Oil on board (80cm x 70cm)
Victoria Art Gallery exhibition: Towards the Unknown
(24 November – 13 January 2008)
Source: The House On The Hill – the other bunny
鷹一つ見つけてうれし伊良湖岬 (芭蕉)
To find a hawk
flying at Cape Irago —
my pleasure, deep ………………
– Basho
Source: Balloon at Cape Irago | Icebox
Plum Blossoms I
The following is the first part of a recent haibun by Nobuyuki Yuasa (Sosui).
The fragrance of plums —
Suddenly the sun comes up
On the mountain path. Basho
Plum blossoms are beautiful, especially in the morning when their colours are highlighted; yet plums appeal not only to the eye but also to the nose. In fact, the scent of their blossoms is their greatest charm. When their aroma is carried on a gentle spring breeze, I am captivated by its nobility and find nothing else capable of rivalling it. In the garden I can see from my windows, white plums are just now coming out — one or two already fully out, but the rest still pinkish-white balls, some swollen and others small. It is plum blossoms at this stage that I love best, for they give us hope and trust in the future. A week from now, they will be in full bloom. Then I can enjoy their fragrance. On warm days, I shall open my windows wide to enjoy it, far superior to any artificial perfume.
I know there are plums
In the recess of darkness —
Deeply scented winds. Sosui
Source: Plum Blossoms I | Icebox
Bright snowy mountains came into my eyes – silent morning ……………………. Mayumi K. Prior to Sunday February 12th, Kyoto had seen intermittent snow …
Source: The Snow Quest | Icebox
Orpheus at the Movies
Too late to be seated so we stand at a door that just closed off the dark. Turning back,
toward this other side of the film — you and me, Swiss chocolate labels, imported beer
bottles — all staring into space. And suddenly, air. It rolls by; from a door that hurls a
funnel of light across a threshold, for a moment, and closes again. Almost imperceptibly,
someone else’s shadow materializes across the emulsion of the lobby. We watch,
indifferently, David, race from seat to men’s room and back again as the movie
relentlessly pursues some predetermined end without him. Doors open and close. He
reappears, sees us for an embrace, and crosses over. You and I blend into the strange
night air
a flower —
the time it took, to open
you were gone
– Donna Fleischer
from indra’s net
A Longhouse Birdhouse: BIRDS ~.
Bird Without Wing
All week long the bird was obedient to its caged routine; fed promptly at regularly
measured intervals, even naps taken perfunctorily with cosmic discipline and good
birdism. in this manner the bird did deliver song—an efficient ecstasy. On weekends the
bird was allowed to escape its cage. in moments of disturbed flurry — a dollhouse flight
tiny bell
by the mirror
rings again
Donna Fleischer
indra’s net bottle rockets press 2003
