two oaks still stand
though older,
split apart,
ravaged
roots entwine
in quiet
.
haiku
two oaks still stand
though older,
split apart,
ravaged
roots entwine
in quiet
.
haiku
tall as a silver
birch ;
just as luminous ; i
forgot who i was
.
haiku
i grow up to be
a tree-speaker a rain-bone
a raven’s wet-throat
.
haiku
you sigh : his thighs wide
solid as a baobab trunk
pressed up against yours
.
haiku
he bought me a tree!
mirabelle : home for the B’s
small sweet fruit to boot!
.
haiku
tied to a tree
in
a midnight
forest lointaine….
the woman i was
.
haiku
out of her tree! the
only girl in the world ~ curled ~
ready for blossom
.
haiku
tree growth requires
cracking open
then tendrils
reaching up
then down
.
haiku
wintry sky screams
dully sad while frozen
wind preys on bright birds
clinging like decorations
on starved branches etched
on sky
.
tanka
.
5-7-5-7-7
napowrimo day 22
.
blossomsscents wafting reminiscences
over hung gardens heavy with fruiting
centuries citrus rich & delicate ancient
Babylon Mediterranean Spainean Tuscun suns etc….
.
pollenated over to every property i rented as a student
from Greek immigrant landlord families in Adelaide
collecting harvests of glowering fruits
radiating winter and summer heats
mellowed lyrical as limoncellos
.
piles of sullen yellow cricketballs and footballed balls
rollplayed propelled across desiccated patch
running catch with backyard cats
.
lemons zested and juiced to use
in sherbertysyrupydrizzly cakes
marinadeslemonades myriadremedies
down a youthfilledthroat hopeless in love with tangyperfumes
coming through the years from my fruitybackgarden halcyon lemonydaze days…
.
btw april 22 2021
In a prompt originally posted this past February, Poets & Writers directs us to an essay by Urvi Kumbhaton the use of mangoes in diasporic literature. As she discusses in her essay, mangoes have become a sort of shorthand or symbol that writers use to invoke an entire culture, country, or way of life. This has the beauty of simplicity – but also the problems of simplicity, in that you really can’t sum up a culture in a single image or item, and you risk cliché if you try.
But at the same time, the “staying power” of the mango underscores the strength of metonymy in poetry. Following Poets & Writers’ prompt, today I’d like to challenge you to write a poem that invokes a specific object as a symbol of a particular time, era, or place.