Basho … two haiku
Boncho … one haiku (“the brushwood”)
Linnea Brett … bird avenue
Buson … seven haiku
Chippewa song … Sometimes I Go About Pitying Myself
Sheila Dong … Prayer
Giles Goodland … Bees
Katharine Harer … Death Over Breakfast
Christopher Jon Heuer … The Hands of My Father
Jackleen Holton Hookway … Luxury
Hokushi … haiku (“I kept hanging the moon”)
Issa … three haiku
Joso … haiku (“above the noise”)
Julie Larios … What Bee Did
Dorianne Laux … The Lost
Michelangelo Buonarroti … 90. Sonnet; possibly for Tammaso
Jim Murdoch … Shadow Writing
Otsuji … haiku (“the spring rain”)
Roka … haiku (“the water-fowl swims”)
Ryokan … haiku (“the burglar”)
Shiki … three haiku
Michael Dylan Welch & Tanya McDonald … Between Night Hills (a haiku sequence)
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I have a loose leaf notebook into which I copy out poems. The above were the poems I copied out in 2019.
**
I have a loose leaf notebook into which I copy out poems. The above were the poems I copied out in 2019.
1 comment:
I was touched to see a poem of mine appear here. Since I backed away from life online I’ve felt a bit forgotten. No one’s fault. Every day we’re assaulted with more and more to do, to read, to listen to, to watch, to endure. Who has time to look back? Hell, most of us don’t have time to send Xmas cards any more.
I wrote ‘Shadow Writing’ in 2007. It was poem #955. 2019 was a good year for poems, eighteen finished and all pretty decent if I say so myself. I kinda hoped when I packed in the blog after a few months I’d get bored and the writing would begin to flow again but that didn’t really happen. Eventually I bought a keyboard and spent six months writing music which was fun and then, suddenly, that dried up too.
In a fit of desperation last July I started pawing over old notes, some going back ten years, and, both to my surprise and delight, found much that wasn’t in bad shape and simply needed a bit of TLC to bring it up to spec. The most recently completed is poem #1131 which, if it’s the last thing I ever write (I don’t know about you but I pretty much assume everything I write is going to be my last thing) it wouldn’t be the worst swansong:
The Science of Poetry
You should consider these works carefully.
They’re nothing special, true, but they can still
rise to the occasion. It’s up to you.
Or down. Up or down.
Most words are unnecessary, at least
not necessarily necessary.
This poem could bob along nicely with
half these words and still
find a way to say something profound or
dumfounding or, once in a blue moon, true.
It’s neither here nor there if none of them
are fit for purpose
because it only takes a little time,
barely any energy and even
less thought to make any of this matter.
17 November 2019
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