The quilt of earth shields an
unborn silver plant.
The soil rejoices as it imagines
unified leaves topped
with a purple crown.
This was written for Colleen’s Double Ennead Challenge No. 7. This week’s challenge is to use the poetry Oracle to create a Double Ennead.
The poem below was written for Colleen’s double ennead challenge No. 6. The Double Ennead comprises five lines with a syllable count of 6/5/11/6/5, (33 SYLLABLES per stanza) 3 STANZAS EACH = 99 SYLLABLES, NO MORE, NO LESS! During this month, poets were challenged to use the image below to compose their poetry (ekphrastic poetry).
Lone thrush flies with the breeze,
floats in the wind’s song,
wavers and shivers at the sound of thunder,
calms at the sky’s blue folds
and their white patches.
Lone thrush flies with the breeze,
looks for life in hills,
stills at the urgent cries of pouncing eagles,
rubs wings with a goldfinch,
croons with small songbirds.
Lone thrush flies with the breeze,
stares at earth’s colors
flies to join golden finch in the red maple,
cuts into samara
finds home in lush warmth.
The poem below has been written for Carrot Ranch Double Ennead Monthly Poetry Challenge No. 5, conducted by Colleen. This challenge starts with the double ennead of 99 syllables reduced to 48 syllables to 24 syllables to finally, a haiku (12 syllable poem).
Double ennead (6/5/11/6/5)
The pale green butterfly
seeks a pale green leaf
wanting to spread his body on his shelter
fluttering his wings and
breathing the leaf’s scent.
Breathing in a way that
only the leaf hears.
His tiny chest heaves and falls to the music
of the dark, roaring sea
and his eyes quiver.
The butterfly travels
alone to his land
of hazy dreams where he drinks from pale flowers
that has a shade of green,
the leaf unaware.
48 syllable poem (3 stanzas 4-7-5)
Pale butterfly
spreads his body on the leaf
breathing in her scent
His chest rises
to the music of the sea
as his eyes quiver
Butterfly soars
in dreams and drinks from flowers
the leaf unaware
24 syllable poem (1 stanza 6-6-6)
Pale butterfly finds home
in leaf only to chase
his unfulfilled yearning
Haiku (12 syllable)
flailing summer
he leaves life
finds home in mirage
The songbird croons and hums
expressing an ache
for the waning night from the depth of her soul
as she glides to the hole
at the break of dawn.
The rose shrinks its petals
and clings close to leaves
holding on to the last traces of the night.
blushing at dawn’s bright light,
dew oozing to stem.
The boy pretends and squints,
hiding in his quilt,
eventually, he picks up his school bag
and adjusts his class tag,
walks the sunny path.
The double Ennead comprises five lines with a syllable count of 6/5/11/6/5, (33 SYLLABLES per stanza) 3 STANZAS EACH = 99 SYLLABLES. This month’s theme is to write a double ennead based on a magical experience. You may choose the end rhyme scheme you want. Thank you, Colleen, for this opportunity.
The earth gently opens
to show frail patterns
of leaves, green and purple, basking in their poise
before pulling back to
guard their sibling blooms.
Quails chatter in a calm
extinct birds’ language,
showing off their tanned wings to partners, hushing
at the delicious spray
of dew on their beaks.
Huge mountains and plains still
while oceans whisper,
as skies pour down, drenching tiny and huge lives
soaking the brownish sand
in colors of joy
The poem above has been written for Carrot Ranch Double Ennead Monthly Poetry Challenge. Thank you, Colleen, for the opportunity.
I sit in the General Hospital, waiting for my turn when I hear a loud wailing. Expecting to see a child, I am shocked to see an elderly lady in a wheelchair, crying with her eyes tightly shut. I am deeply disturbed and could see that the other patients are uncomfortable too. This incident reminds me of an old cleaning lady in our condo whose eyes glistened as she told me how lonely she felt as her children and grandchildren lived far away. There is another instance of a man in our neighborhood who is dreadfully scared of dogs but has to walk his daughter’s dog, as she is too busy to do so. As I walk away from the hospital, I see an elderly man staring into space.
His treble
the language
of wrinkles
Hi Friends,
The Wooden Chair was the first haibun I had written. This was published in Contemporary Haibun Online’s July issue, 2013, Vol 9. Please find below.
My Wooden Chair
I stroll restlessly in my new house as trees outside are being chopped for construction. Lifeless new buildings are sprouting in the neighbourhood. I wonder mildly about deforestation as I lean back in my chair.
my wooden chair screeches–
memories of a
felled tree
I stood in the corner
of my tiny room,
scared of the light
that followed me
wherever I went.
I pulled my curtains,
hiding inside, holding
on to darkness, taking
comfort in misery
when sunlight crept in
through the tiny opening
in my curtains.
Terrified of the light,
I buried my face in
my hands.
Sunlight colored my fingertips,
pricking my eyelids.
I felt the light
with closed eyes,
flooded by its warmth,
its positivity and grandeur.
No longer fearful,
I shed the comfort of darkness
and stepped on
the path of light.
Cold cut through her skin,
seeped into her bones,
and clutched her shivering heart
as its icy grip spread
all over her body.
Stacked logs on the fireplace
could not warm her frosty breath
and heavy blankets failed
to comfort her chilled body.
Then it happened.
A tiny feeble hand
touched her heart
and blood gushed
into her body, filling
her with maternal warmth.
Her cold ears melted
in the soft babble
of cooing noises.
Her eyes trembled open
to soak in the warmth
of the tiny stranger and
she forced herself up
with outstretched arms.
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