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Living the Everyday Haiku1

climbing the first vertical
it comes to—
a snail on my shoe

2

leaves falling everywhere
I look, how easy it is
to let them go

3

I marvel at every
rose bush petal
holding fast in the wind

4

seed packets in a drawer...
dormant dreams of an herbal garden
come spring

5

sharp-edged clouds
cutting the moon in half
but not the piercing wind

6

still in bed—
winter scrubbing the remains
of autumn from the trees

7 (seen on local news today)

king tides—
waves scattering cliff side
spectators with sea foam and awe

8

how cold the night—
no sound of cricket or bird
yet his breath in slumber

9

late morning
pulling
He Found Me Before I Knew1

suddenly rain -
our reflection in the windshield
becomes a deluge

2

texting each other a renga -
tires hiss
on rain-soaked streets

3

home from work
he finds me on the bed
in a pile of warm laundry

4

between desires -
the children we were
in another life

5

finishing the fence
he smells of wood chips
from my dad's workshop

6

showering,
I connect constellations
of freckles on his shoulders

7

gray morning -
I open a melon
its green perfume

8

at the dining table
writing this haiku
the fridge faintly hums
MissionaryWhen he first saw her
she appeared unique to all things,

and the day they met, he already knew.
It was during their first time,

the way planets come and go
as time loses count of their orbit.

It never seems to end, then he
growls low in her ear as she swoons,

of how missionary will never
be the same for him again.
In Praise OfI cannot avert my eyes while
in praise of yours, striving
towards the clearness of your being,

across who's face dances the
blood-red, wine-flames of life
on its skin of gold leaf,

my breath bellows it into
sunsets of a citrus palette,
brushing all forms free of stain,

against which the melodious riot of
existence peals its flute notes
without ever leaving our presence!
clair de luneIn the bitter cold of its white light as
winter approaches, the contemplation of the
moon that clouds your face brings a melancholy,

uncertain as it is embraceable
in the arms of the vision it extends.

And when it's over, lying back quietly listening
to your favorite rendition of Clair de lune,

the moon will return, and you'll draw close
to the warmth of me, and for a while
you won't feel so alone. And neither will I.
Ocean EyesYour ocean eyes will inherit the earth,
and the gulls of the sea will not brace you
for what the waves and winds have broken down.

The pearls of your mouth are just now washing to shore,
and your endearing reach trusts with ivory naivety,
but your lack of profanity will not save you from perversion.

All I can do is sing you love songs,
and hope the world is still worth saving,
when your ocean eyes reflect the sky, still blue.
OppositeThe world glistened with abandon
in the electrical parade,

when and where the night skies too
seemed receptive and robust,

yet even while I'm still awake
I'm content in the quiet of my dreams

like the creatures and those who sleep
in the opposite place and time

where plans and promises of a new year
become folly, and no longer exist.
Blue Lotus
Coming up from Aswan with his catch,
he tacks the course of his dhow
along the Nile of her dark eyes,
her long hair,
the narcotic of blue water lilies,

her lotus pose facing both
the rising, and the setting sun,

the young fisherman begs to know
as he sings upward with his might
and his desire, into the sail
that catches the crosswind--

What is your name, scented one,
in the smoke that rises
from the shores of the cataracts,
where I bring to you my bounty!

He peers into the azure above,
waiting for her answer to fill his sail,
calling out once more as his teeth gleam--
Ma huwa 'ismuki?
dead1.

i hear these words
and something happens
in the yard;

it doesn't fit
a poem
or planet.

i see it squeeze
into the slits
beneath your shirt.

i feel it fly the smooth
of you
from off your back. it turns

and hides behind the acres,
stock frontiers
of jagged rooftops,

kept far and safe
and free
of me.

2.

the squirrel
has left the limb
as light would leave
a photograph.

i’m staring into its absence
and some new kind of animal is made;
one where
only
its reversal is alive.

it doesn't move or breathe.

the park is wintered over, and i don’t go.
the poppies
are all gone.
and when they do come back, they never chan
Erotiku in 10 movements1.
full moon rising
the announcement
of her time

2.
receptive
scents awaken his body
to hers

3.
black birds
forage
two lovers nibble

4.
clandestined
the steam of
their mutual breath

5.
they love in desperation
for the winter of
their separation

6.
mesmerized by the
contrast on his fingers
the essence of her

7.
from behind
he holds her teacup body
in symmetry to his own

8.
speechless
their moves are graceful
without thinking

9.
the flesh of a female
and the sweet promise
orchids in the garden

10.
dark moon setting
where she rests her head
to rise again
Equinoxbeyond shadows of
tall desert yucca stalks  
from pine-pitch torches,

a moon-rising of whey
besets the constellation
of scorpion over
the old priestess-

about her face, the
mangled hair of woven
arachnid lace floats,

around her neck,
diamondback rattles
hiss with ev'ry move-

eldest sister to the Jaguar,
only she remains
from the
heresy of her wisdom,

with memories intact
for those gone
generations before...

when grandfather
was chief elder, and
blessed his granddaughter

holding her in offering
to the sky riders of
the autumn equinox

returning on this night-
spirit voices of
the seven caves are fad
haiku of late autumn
window
shutting out the chill
moonlight spills in
SnowiesThe owlets were coming of age
while grounded, testing their wings
as father soared overhead,
his children grouping for one more test.

Feathers puffed in awkward stance
one by one to Sunday school
beyond the tundra fields
of late summer skeeters,

to where fat lemmings flourish-
just fly over the last
grass-choked stream, said mother
(but they decide to wade across),

past wind-blown dunes of green, where
lies the sea beyond, with more lemmings
that hide and play near their burrows
than any snow owl on the wing could wish for.
unfolded letter having something to do with shame
hello again.

i was here, just now, and i thought of waiting.
but you won't come.
and even as i say these words, i know they must remain unborn
like busy blood the coffers keep.

these sounds are ways i cannot be, i don't believe,
i'm not alive.
but i'll arrange them, anyway, one by one
to be eaten by your oval minion
or blindly forwarded like propaganda.

i am always without you and without myself.
i offer this ambassador, but he only sees the stain of things
and not even this; just their emblems, their saltless confederacy
of coincidence.

i've wondered if you're searching nights
for dark clad summoners, or silhouettes &#
FoldsYou are taking that old Ford to town
to collect some fencing wire
while Martha Reeves sings Jimmy Mack on the radio
and you hold the steering wheel with a single
cocked thumb
and forefinger with dirt under its nail
while
your sun speckled arm
rests almost out the window.

I am in the back seat with an ice-cream cone
and two tissues you made me take
for the mess I would make
and I finger the splits in the Ford's vinyl seats
stretching the cracks with small sticky hands.

I say that I think your skin might need ironing
on account of all its folds and creases

In the rearview mirror
I catch your ventriloquist smile
and you hu
Browse More Like This

More from `jade-pandora

Vigilancethe forecast is for rain,
a cold and bitter
bear of a rainstorm
lumbering down the coast

too soon after the
fire storms of late summer,
exposing the hillsides
with pie crust for topsoil

just as I am laid bare
this moment, this future past
when first I saw you,
certain you'd never see me...

willing to quietly pine
my fertility away,
for you've already
been given children...

I just want to give you
everything else-

because inevitably,
the hillsides will cascade
violently yet silently
to the coastline below,

leaving the stands of redwoods
untouched
in their lofty vigilance,
while outliving us both
Undertowwith our bodies made
of lunar oceans,
it's no wonder
I keep returning to the sea,
hoping to find you there

for it's where life ends
and begins anew-
the offshore breezes of
your breathing, the
undertow of kisses lurking

the riptides of passion
wearing down a resolve
that won't keep me
in good stead much longer
in spite the fact you're gone...

the chemistry of my body
and of yours makes me
habitually wander,
listless and listening
for a message from the depths
HuntedI dash through shifting dusk...
relentless gusts
halt me against my will
in mid-crossing of a
wide city street-

hunted game leaning into and
wavering from each blast,
determined
to keep my feet planted
as wax jitters in my ears,

fighting vertigo,
knowing any second
the wind will up-end me,
to be at its mercy
or lack of, from its

sadistic wordplay
and deafening howl,
keeping me off-center
in the encroaching darkness
thick with broken shale-

as the hind muscles burn
from a crouch I've assumed,
a moment's sense
of false security
while it sucks in a breath,

to expel, and propel me
into on-coming traffic,
with a life

Featured in Groups

:iconwritten-from-within: :iconwriteaway: :iconthewritersmeow: :iconwritingclub: :iconpencils-of-doom: :iconthepoetryofda: :iconsongofthepoets: :iconpoetry-book:
×

A Season's Echo of Passing

:iconjade-pandora:

Rows of dried corn stalks bend
with the wind that
thirsts for rain
that will only come when it has died
and the ears of corn cease to rattle.

And the thunder's distant laugh
will chase after the snakes  
heading for their mounds on higher ground,
their husks abandoned-
the flash floods may yet pass them by.

1,118

47 48 5
:iconjade-pandora:

A Season's Echo of Passingby `jade-pandora

DescriptionDetailsShare
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:bulletblack: 12/19/12: Featured here [link] by a group that I've been a member of for years. ^,^

:bulletpurple: 12/17/12: Honorable Mention!
4th Annual Poetry Screams Prompt Contest [WINNERS]
=dreamsinstatic's

Fourth Annual Poetry Screams Prompt Contest

WINNERS
:pumpkin:     This was the fourth year I've run this contest and this was the hardest to judge thus far!  The overwhelming amount of amazing entries to this  contest made every decision almost impossible to make.  Never before have I had such incredible difficulty narrowing down the entries to three winners.  Following in step with last year, because there were so many amazing entries, I am including a few honorable mentions along with the winners.  :pumpkin: I want to thank all of you for your amazing work, for your efforts, for creating such amazing pieces of poetry.  Not everyone can win, and believe me I wish you all could.  Whether you won or not you should be incredibly proud of your work.  These pieces have been truly wonderful and by simply creating something


:bulletorange: 10/31/12: Written for and entered into =dreamsinstatic's Poetry Screams Prompt Contest [link]
The poem's prompt is "The Dying Season".

:bulletblue: 11/8/12: Featired here: [link]
:bulletred: 11/3/12: Featured pick for #All-For-Art's "Best Of" Poll #50 [link]
©2012-2013 `jade-pandora
Category: Literature / Poetry / Nature / Free Verse

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October 31, 2012
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:iconexquisiteoath:
~exquisiteoath Feb 7, 2013
Some very evocative imagery here, I really enjoy the pacing and tone as well.
Reply
:iconjade-pandora:
`jade-pandora Feb 10, 2013
Thank you, Crispen -- I enjoyed how it came to me as well.
Reply
:iconexquisiteoath:
~exquisiteoath Feb 10, 2013
:)
Reply
:iconrlkirkland:
*rlkirkland Dec 18, 2012  Hobbyist Writer
I like it well, and added to a regular cluster of kudos. :D
Reply
:iconjade-pandora:
`jade-pandora Dec 18, 2012
Ahh Ron, you make me feel special -- thank you. :hug:
Reply
:iconthe-beastie:
~the-beastie Nov 9, 2012  Hobbyist Writer
This is great - really dark and spooky in the personification of thunder, and I love your use of the word 'rattle'. It brings up that haunting idea of a death rattle coupled with the vivid image of the dry corn stalks rattling together. Well done!
Reply
:iconjade-pandora:
`jade-pandora Nov 9, 2012
:hug: Oh gosh thank you so very much -- you've got it in one!

Btw, it's good to know you're doing well -- it's been sooo long since seeing you around. i love that you were able to drop by my neck of the lit woods! :heart:
Reply
:iconthe-beastie:
~the-beastie Nov 9, 2012  Hobbyist Writer
I like to pop in from time to time! so nice to see that old faces from my more active days are still around :)
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:iconrlkirkland:
*rlkirkland Nov 9, 2012  Hobbyist Writer
So many of your pieces ache with deep unspoken longings. :heart:
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:iconjade-pandora:
`jade-pandora Nov 9, 2012
:iconsnuggleplz:
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