This month at Chevrefeuille’s Haiku Kai we are challenged by the Tan Renga that short chained poem written by two poets. Here is the haiku by Buson for your inspiration to create the second stanza of this Tan Renga.
the willow leaves fallen,
the spring gone dry,
rocks here and there
© Yosa Buson (1716-1784)
tears blot candle lit message
death comes too quick for my love
~mdw
t
Art by Yosa Buson and Georges de la Tour
Outside of Bethlehem
rocks, sheep and cold
better than noisy masses
for the city was over full
outside of Bethlehem
we dozed as the sheep slept
never imagining
the concert that we’d get
outside of Bethlehem
unusual night for us
the skies were a blazing
with the Heavenly chorus
outside of Bethlehem
a message we received
we cowed and fearful
in angels we believed
inside of Bethlehem
we beheld and we saw
the babe, the son of Mary
we bowed in silent awe
inside of Bethlehem
inspired with a reason
a message for the masses
“wake up to a new season”
outside of Bethlehem
a tear creased our eyes
disbelief and hatred
this king they would despise
Please if you have time to visit Pen of the Damned read: “Other Side of Bethlehem.” This is a sad and chilling contrast of that precious night and a look at the cold heart of man.
The top picture of the fields of Bethlehem is from the website of the Salvationist. There are many pictures and reflections about Bethlehem.
What story is beyond the horizon?
a world captive in the glass
a man trying to grasp the sea
wheat waving its hands in the breeze
in clouds a hidden message inscribed in red
a fence that knows the names of soldiers dead
a frog who dreams of a life outside his pond
grasp at a mysterious world beyond the dawn
***
This week’s WordPress Photochallenge prompt is Horizon
Please have a look at those who inspire with their art:
You I have portrayed
true character in shadows
buffoon’s charade
*
Buffoon’s charade
my painting hung in fame
you long forgotten
Carpe Diem’s prompt is to use art as an inspiration for writing. I believe that artists and writers share a kinship and as such inspire one another. What truth do you see that Picasso is unveiling?
Intent on passage
water’s surge at weakness
stone cannot endure
Haiku gives a place to explore the profound meaning behind words.
Today’s prompt at Carpe Diem is “Willpower.”
photography: “Split Stone” L. Moon © 2013
It was a wet rainy day. I really was not intending to browse in the musty antique store but at that moment I was passing there was a fierce downpour which forced me indoors. I tried to take a deep breath but the dust clogged my nostrils; I forced myself to breath as little as necessary.
“Welcome” the old shopkeeper smiled an aged, toothless smile. I gathered she was as old as some of the pieces. “Please tell me if I can be of assistance deary”.
I walked around the cluttered rows of dingy furniture. “Ah light,” I gasped as I took the stairs two at a time. ” Maybe there will be something worth looking at up there and perhaps less dust.” I said in a hushed voice realizing her hearing was also ancient. “Squeek, clop, clop” I sounded like a horse on wooden slats.
At last I was upstairs. I turned around in a room that seemed so airy and springlike. I could almost hear birds chirping. The sun was streaming in from a skylight. “How is that possible?” I shook my head as if in a fairy tale. I minded little the time I might spend here. I looked at item after item – each “one of a kind” in my estimation. Then I felt warmth as if a hand touched mine. I looked down and my hand was resting on a beautiful yellowing mirror. The lines from the elephant tusk were obvious as I ran my hand over the smooth ivory. I felt the need to see if the mirror was cracked so I turned it over. As I gazed at myself, I was shocked at what I saw.
“I dont own a brocade, three-quarter sleeve gown. What am I thinking? I dont own any gowns.” I heard a whisper from behind me. It must be an open window. Then I heard it clearly.
” Come close let me look at you.”
” Who are you, ” I asked trying to keep the trembling in my voice down.
“My name is Janille Constantine.”
” My name is Malina.”
” I like that name Malina. I have never heard that name before. Have you seen him today?” she asked in a beautiful lyrical voice.
“Have I seen whom?”
” My lover of course. We are supposed to meet here so that my intended would not see us.” Janille giggled with mirth.
” No I am sorry what does he look like? ”
“He is very handsome. He rides the blackest of stallions and his blue eyes carry mischief and love.”
” I’m sure if I saw him I would remember him.” I had to look again into the mirror as I was certain that I could not be carrying on this conversation with myself.
“Yes he always wears a bowler hat and carries a smart cane.”
“Where do you live?” I asked.
“Why on Jersey shore of course my dear. I am from the Constantine family; we live in a darling home on the sea-shore in the summer and we return to our plantation in the fall once the disease has left the lowlands.”
“My what an exciting life you must lead. I would love to see your home. ”
“Yes alas I believe once papa knows about Roland he will send me away to my aunt’s.” her r rolled in a perfect southern drawl.
“What about your intended?”
“Oh Joseph. He is a good boy but he is not a man who knows the world. He is protected by his mama.”
“Oh” I started to smile. I had dated someone like that and was glad the “love of my life” lived on the edge.
“Then why don’t you break it up with Joseph? ”
“Well I have discussed it with Roland he always tells me no and tells me to shush.”
Just then I heard the sound of a gun shot.
” Oh my what am I to do? What is it?”
“A man has been shot outside of the shop. You must hide – please hide.”
“Where? ”
“Under a bureau!”
“Yes I will.” I held my breath waiting as I heard the pounding of footsteps on the stairs as suddenly as they came up they went back down.
“No one is here. That scoundrel Roland.”
” He’s dead.” I heard a mouse like voice.
” Murielle your husband was a cheat and a gambler. It is better this way come home with your older brother.”
I heard crying as a face came back into view. “They killed him my Roland. Who was the woman? Oh my I guess he was married. I never knew.”
“But you are safe Janille.”
“Yes I am I will return to my papa’s home in South Carolina. I will never return here again.” She tried to sound brave but her voice could not countain the soft cries.
“Goodbye Malina.” a sweet voice said and then the mirror went dark.
When I went home I googled the name of Constantine. There it was the picture of the beautiful, young woman I had spoken with. She had unexpectedly died by gunshot in the street in New Jersey on her way home.
I looked up the name of Roland and found several who lived in the area then I saw him. The most daring and compelling blue eyes and I knew why she had loved that captivating man.
I went back to the antique store on another rainy day. I was curious to see whom I might meet…
This short story was inspired by the elephant tusk mirror that was an heirloom and an archived poem I wrote.
Photograph: “Gradma’s Mirror” L. Moon copyright 2011
Yes this is a Flash 55 but to read the beginning of the story you have to go to my friend J. Bengel’s site and read Vespers
The phone rang again.
Deep breath on the other end.
“Sorry it’s me again. I saw her. I’m back from the edge of death.
Before they sent me back a beautiful woman brushed my hand and whispered your name.
Tell him I’m here. I’m waiting. I love him.”
“Thanks” was all I could say
“Goodluck.”
Go to the G-Man for more Flash 55- Thanks G!!!
<a href=”http://wp.me/pDORj-A5“>
She walked into a shop
steeped in another era
scents of old
ancient things from there
***
Up in a loft
she saw an ivory mirror
she held it’s loveliness
tell me what did she hear?
***
It was a voice
with an accent sublime
young and clear
from another time
***
Are you talking to me?
I hear you my dear
the young voice queries
please come a little near
***
Where is the woman?
no one but me
looking around
where can she be?
***
Then just as sweetly
she gave me a message
must be for others
what is the passage?
***
Tell them I love them
tell them I’m here
tell them I’m waiting
give them love and cheer
***
Who do I tell?
can’t you be clearer
now she was gone
the lady in the mirror
This (archived) poem is prompted by this week’s Wednesday Wake Up Call at New World Creative Union. We are asked to reflect on our ancestors. The prose is fictional but inspired by a mirror and a memory.
Painting: Waterhouse “Rosebuds while ye may”
Learning to live by the indwelling life of Christ.
Gud skaper noko nytt ved sitt Ord og sin Ande, vi kan ta imot det i tru og få oppleve at han gjer sitt verk med oss. Hans skaparkraft verkar konstuktivt i våre liv og skaper noko som er verdifullt for oss. Naturkreftene verkar nedebrytande, i fylgje entropilova, men Gud er Ånd og det som er født av hans Ande består. Jesu frelsesverk er fullbrakt og fullkome. Han er den siste Adam, som er ifrå himmelen og som for oss har vorte ei livgjevande ånd. Han gjev oss den Heilage Ande frå himmelen av berre nåde. Han gjev oss det evige livet.
Looking ahead, without looking back (too often)
Thanks for following a cowgirl on her crazy life journey.
Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing, doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before. - Edgar Allan Poe
Hoping to make the world more beautiful
Books by author Diana Coombes
With previous posting of "Our World" on Blogger
my humanity in written form
Experiments in Creative Writing, and more ....
Poetry by Mich
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penned in moon dust 