In the Copse, Haibun

In the Copse, Haibun

Respite from blistering heat, that is how autumn is refreshing. Damp with cool pattering rain on leathery leaves gives way to frosty mornings, silver fields and fence wire frost. Snow accentuates shadows, makes the varied tones in the woods more vivid, even as spring’s pastels soften deep glades,  in the later year — softness of gray.

smooth silent hooves

white-tail epiphany —

the trailing rain

 

North 38th Parallel, Haibun

North 38th Parallel, Haibun

I make my circuit — a walk under wind-stripped oaks and maples. Then, over the little path, it twists through thickets of bare trees and hummocks once profuse with bloom. See, the dry creek is covered with a tarp. Leaves are ankle deep already.

After dinner I watch a waning sun light shadows that disappear into dark corners. I leave the porch for cheery fireside chair, my radio tuned to the “weekend”;   music,  hot tea,  and day old zucchini bread.

solitary

the evening fox —

of the hedgerow world

Season Story, Haibun

In the tree line a fox trail begins, or it ends, next to a wide expanse of garden. Maple and oak blazed leaves, a pair of bare mimosa twist twigs and a bearing fig buds at-the-ready stands naked where someone held family games.

A family of fox grew through the seasons. One decided to remain, to beat the boundaries, it seems, the same vixen of the piebald coat had bogarted an unguarded sandwich on the Mid-summer.

She pads along the unmasked trail, amongst secluded wood, and hedgerow, she knows the cover-cropped fields — hunting up the enclave acres or perhaps snack-taking the adjoining property

long shadow —

  paw prints in free clay,

    dove on upper roost.

c. Lemuel 02-11-20

memory, haibun

Wind took a massive life an elder elm has fallen.

It is reputed to have been a sapling in a wooden bucket a century and a half ago.

The community has generations of memories of the elm. It was a favorite rendezvous of courting couples, a shady site for family picnics, and for final wishes, ashes were spread beneath the Park Elm.

stories shared delight

people mourn circle gathered

deep roots shared fate all

c. Lemuel

22 July 2018

haibun poem

Rat-Rod Skeletal Metal, a Haibun

rat rod 2

Skeletal Metal, a Haibun

 

Drive-in Hootenanny skeletal metal, stripped down and rebuilt twisted rides; revving tacs, how noble and debased they blaze in the late afternoon sun.

Smooth trannies heave heavy vintage automobiles, some bits shiny. Out of sight, their rusty ramshackle aged-good looks hot-rodded to the max, new renditions of sickest machines re-imagined.

The crowd blasted full blown by throaty engines’ bass notes groove; growling perfect timing like ripping canvas to the beat. Clean glass, gonzo custom, rockin’ designed so sweet, big wheels, big feels, not-all-there, but complete; glorious carnivores of salvage.

 

amended beauty

glory faded roars again

grace welded reborn

 

© Lemuel

01 May, 2018

Haibun

Haibun Poetic Form

  • The haibun is melding of two poems: a prose poem and haiku.
  • The form was used in 17th century Japan and made fashionable by poet Matsuo Basho.
  • Prose poem is an objective view of the subject, rarely is “I” used.

 

  1. Tacs – tachometers
  2. Rides—vehicles used for everyday driving, special transportation, or showy display
  3. Hootenanny—a musical gathering of celebration
  4. Trannies– automotive transmissions