September’s Promise: Two Haiku
September tells me
As its green leaves turn to gold
Spring will come again
The greens of Summer
Give way to Autumn’s bright golds
Promising the Spring
The greens of Summer
Give way to Autumn’s bright golds
Promising the Spring
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Stay and drink the wine
Culled from the fruits of autumn
Nature’s piquant gift
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A whisper is heard
In the silence of the wood
The world is not still
As autumn leaves gently fall
Carpeting the forest floor
Tanka is a genre of classical Japanese poetry meaning a short poem, and one of the major genres of Japanese literature.
A Tanka consist of five units (often treated as separate lines when romanized or translated) usually with the pattern of 5-7-5-7-7 syllables per unit or line). Wikipedia
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In the land that love forgot
lit by the light of an autumn moon
Memory stirred and held a thought
of those once upon a time days
When roses
rich with red
scented days with hope
Wind-strewn days with fallen apple
air fresh with suckled honey
When once You and I loved
smitten
immersed in this infinity
enamoured
Longing
in those autumn days
Regaining in their wistful hours
what summer once had brought us
All now lost in time’s story
But always and forever
written on memory’s scroll.
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Sir Edward Coley Burne-Jones: ‘The Love Song’
She came to me
A dream enriched
When I was most in need.
Long summers passed
And she was there
She held my hand
Until with time
My troubles did recede
And then
When age had bitten back
She gave her love to me
Without a qualm
She took my arm
For she was Spring
As Autumn came
And I was home at last.
‘Green Man’ . . . Pen&Wash – WHB ©
He is my history
Lusting after the hills of my youth
He strides the moorland paths
Amidst the bracken and the gorse
Drinking the sun’s warm ale
Savouring the wind’s heather-toned tang
Turning time to his advantage
Tuning in to its connecting wavelength
He is great Nature’s spirit
Rising and falling with its moods
Sad yet serene in Spring
Holding the hope of the future
Bright and bubbly in the summer rains
Rich and expansive in the sun’s bright gaze
Brought to magnificent autumn richness
Coloured by russet tints
Fruitful in his beneficence
He is the winter too
Drifting with the whiteness of its moods
His flocks penned for winter warmth neath the mountain crag
Shielding the gentle crocus
And the blanched snowdrop
He is the spirit of the trees
Lord of copse and wood
Guardian of Grove and greenwood
Verdant Monarch of the forest
Of the landscape’s lakes
Running with the cool waters of streams and rivers
The stillness of Its ponds and pools
Both past and future
Gone yet still to come again
his cyclic journey unfolds
From birth to death
From death to resurrection
To new life and resurgent hope
Maintaining existence
Midst promises and threats
To bring renewal in the name of life
‘A Sussex Morning’ … Photo: WHB – October 2017 ©
The morning mist that masks my view
Slowly lifts its damask shroud
Then memory comes to lift my mood
Bringing to mind that distant scene
Reminding of what my life has been
For then, before I lost, I’d loved,
And she has meant the world to me
In spring and summer life was good
Till autumn brought its golden glow
Gnarled time revealing what I now know.
That when those masking clouds descend
Proffering winter’s icy blasts
Our world which once held such delights
Tells me that now the time is here
To set aside despair and fear
That what we had and valued most
Was all worthwhile and counted more
Than all the pains which followed on
For life renews itself in hope
And those who follow, they will cope.
In a Spenserian Stanza each verse contains nine lines in total: eight lines in iambic pentameter followed by a single ‘alexandrine’ line in iambic hexameter. The rhyme scheme of these lines is “ababbcbcc.” Somewhat morbid, but my own composition in this form is offered below . . .
Burne-Jones – ‘Merlin & Nimue’ – detail
In summer time when light is long to last
And evening stretches far into the night,
Then I am wont to think of times gone past
When life was dear and death was out of sight;
But autumn has arrived and dimmed the light,
That short time left to me now presses hard;
Have I done all the planning that I might,
Allowed myself my faults to disregard,
Updated my résumé, my next life’s calling card?
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