whitest

a heart of gold inside the purest white nectar to die for

Written for a prompt at CarpeDiem

...said the spider to the fly...

a mouthful of spiders wren mama 's on her way to feed her young flying ants huddle together thorny place

Written for a prompt at CarpeDiem

lotus seedpod

lotus seed pod viable for 90 years seeds rattle inside

Written for a prompt at CarpeDiem

senses

.....kikobun with a soupçon of synesthesia

memory: the power of an odour it fills us up Blindfolded I walk through the garden, absorbing the smells of the plants I know so well. I turn right at the pungent touch of rosemary and sink to my knees by the salvia sage. Straight on for the sweet lingering scent of the yellow primula veris, the first pale yellow primroses to litter the ground with heavy tufts of their delight. Past the pond with the musty odour of still water, the fresh fragrance of the Beauty Bush [ Kolkwitzia] leaves me in no doubt where in my garden I am. I need no compass to find my blind way to the wall, from where I overlook the acres of grassland I can see in my mind's eye. A mixture of last year's June hay with fresh new growth coming up in a myriad of greens. containing depth earth lets itself be inhaled in one smell The shrub called Flowering Currant [ Ribes] wafts its sour scent and beckons me on to the greenhouse, where the contained warmth of the sun intensifies each and every flower's fragrance: the very first rosebud of the intensely flavoured rose called Rosa "Arthur Bell" and the hothouse lily with a slightly overwhelming scent. The freesias which have no business being in flower before the end of April, and the musty smell of the pelargoniums: not nice but indicating the presence of their glorious pink flowers. And not to be forgotten, this phlox divaricata, called "Clouds of Perfume" and giving language to the scent outdoing all others. bittersweet where it borders on taste, more honeysweet where you can feel it touching the very first sounds of Spring

Written for a prompt at CarpeDiem

the wisdom of the cherry tree

offerings to the gods dotting the slopes of mountains saplings know the truth cypress smoke carries prayers to the gods ascetic training at their fleeting peak trees awash with pink petals Mount Yoshino knows best

Below the sport of double blossoms on our single flowered cherry tree.
Having said that, I reckon it was a double flowered tree to start with, which in part reverted back to singles.
It was planted before my time here. The tree must be at least 40 years old. These prunus trees are not long-lived. They wither away after about 40 years, and ours is definitely in the withering stage, sadly.

more

Written for a prompt at CarpeDiem

breathless

breath - so precious rumbles in my chest may plum petals soothe

I picked up a chest infection since leaving the hospital last week. yet another hurdle to jump. beginning to feel sorry for myself well, just a little :-) My hand is still unsteady and the water colours look messy. Still. Things can only get better. My cherry blossom petals are snowing down steadily now, thanks to a flock of greedy goldfinches :-) Couldn't hold the camera still yet.

Written for a prompt at CarpeDiem

I'M BACK!!!! Three weeks in intensive care after an unexpected operation. Wasn't supposed to survive it, but the surgeon took a chance on me and it came off. Very emotional time, not least from the love that surrounded me those three weeks. overwhelming and humbling. I so hope I can prove that I deserved all this care and efficiency. Tell you one thing: the NHS is simply terrific. My brain is only just getting back into gear. I shall need your cameraderie to help me through the aftermath. Learning to walk again and even type again is difficult. Please be with me for this. And thank you for the comments I found on my return, in the previous post.

Written for a prompt at CarpeDiem

single branch

cherryblossom rain leaves just the one hanging on no more waiting

Written for a prompt at CarpeDiem

stinky tree

ghostly flowers see-thru petals drained of colour abominable smell I hold my nose walking past the hamamelis poor thing

Written for a prompt at CarpeDiem

larking about

It's that old crescent sun.....
...in the sky...[at least for a little while this morning.]

A lark is "sunshine translated into sound". Sadly this song of sunlight is being dimmed all over the country and may also end in a total eclipse.

hovering speck up high with the lark's glorious trill daytime nightingale

The solar eclipse was pretty spectacular in our area, against a rare blue march sky.It must have confused any skylark out there this morning.

Written for Jen at CarpeDiem

scales

Life is not all sweetness and light at the minute.
Today no pretty pictures or sweet little lines. Grim reality and unbelievable pain have caught up with me. Are haiku really fit vehicles for these kind of feelings? Hmm, not sure, but what the heck.

hostile sun - bright red burns my eyes with fear ~ armies marching

or?

hostile moon, blood-red burns my eyes with fear ~ armies on the march

There is a difference in my view between 'armies on the march' and 'armies marching'. The latter could be seen as merely exercising and flexing the muscles, as on May Day Parades; the former definitely means business. War business.

The 'blood-red moon' has biblical connotations and infers the second coming of Christ with an 'the end is nigh' feeling.

The bright red sun was something that happened to me yesterday, late in the afternoon, when it shone straight in my eye and scared the heck out of me.

Now for an afterthought on a different tack, this time mere irritation:

the cooing of pigeons I want to wring their scrawny necks flying rats

Aren't you glad you stopped by :-)

Written for a prompt at CarpeDiem

melancholy

from ignorance crossing the river on a raft to enlightenment my mind goes back to a summer now long past ~ tears fall unbidden

One from the archives: “Is it because we know we are mortal that we prize what’s ephemeral beyond rubies? Is it because we see the rose fade that we furnish her dropped petals with dignity? How tenderly we cradle the dying like Snowwhite in her glass cage Not quite gone but going as we know we ourselves are going with or without the dignity that Nature sometimes gifts”.

too close to the wind

sails tied down for good ~ dinosaurs in the landscape mere decoration windmills flail around sail too close to the wind they don't sustain they still grow grain, yet arms wave in the wind in vain just for show now

Written for a prompt at CarpeDiem

shadows don't speak

A continuation of my celebration of Spring in our garden. Bits and pieces all over the place. Too many to mention. I'm on such a high and it has only just begun.

primroses/white heather/hellebore/kerria/scilla/doronicum/narcissus/forsythia/lenten rose/hyacinth/anemone blanda/drumstick primrose/flowering currant/

not a word spoken all is deep silence between us the two of us - does my shadow see me the way I see her? on quiet paths thoughts touch eternity then bounce back

each time I look a flower in the face it seems that God is looking back at me: petals are a holy place

Written for a prompt at CarpeDiem
also linked to a monthly prompt at Bloom Day

soulangeana

naked branches sport pink waxen flowers till they drop brown chinese saucers soulangeana partial shade flowers drop soon fat and fleshy like wax a pain to pick up frost turns buds brown another flowerless year far too much trouble

Magnolia soulangeana always strikes me as clumsy. I much prefer the daintier magnolia stellata [below]. It so happens that we have a huge M.soulangeana tree in our backgarden. Apparently the biggest in the county, with a preservation order on it. Pity. I would have had it out. It takes days to clean up after it, when the entire lawn is covered in its fat brown sticky aftermath. And one ends up with a very sore back as it has to be done by hand. A rake doesn't cut it. And of course the slightest bit of frost turns the flowers brown even sooner; sometimes before the buds have fully opened, so you have a whole year without the supposed pleasure of this tree. I haven't the patience and acceptance of Basho, who never saw his banana tree fruit, or even flower, as it was totally the wrong climate. I'll donate my magnolia tree to him posthumously :-)

Written for a prompt at CarpeDiem

umi oke

hint of true spring almond blossom in full flow warm azure sky spring's first dawn coloured by petals newly opened equinox ice sloes start to move again the sea opens up

Written for paloma at CarpeDiem

sound bites

the human race industriously creating its own downfall

the sea opens up ice sloes start to move again hint of true spring umi oke hint of true spring ice sloes start to move again the sea opens up

.........haiku.......... .........what it isn't .......... conceptual philosophical didactic pedantic versus .........what it is .......... profound, universal and timeless with a common thread throughout the world "Haiku seeks to elucidate the inner truths by depicting the outside surface". Does this mean: "Look at the wrapping and summise what's inside the parcel, but only if you want to? In a way that would tie in with the concept of origami, which intially came forth out of the fancy wrapping techniques people used for gifts. Then the wrapping became more important than what was actually inside. A twisted view of things or mere presentation?

I can live with that, if being allowed to sneak in the odd poetic device and a conceit or two. (Shhhh, don't tell anyone.) That leads me back to my haiku at the top. the human race industriously creating its own downfall Is it or isn't it? I reckon it is conceptual and philosophical as well as universal and timeless and most certainly has a common thread throughout the world. I suppose it doesn't live up to the ultimate criterium of having inner truth [ although clearly we now know that it has truth], and it certainly doesn't depict the outside surface. Hmm, I wonder how I could get at the same truth by starting with the wrapping, almost as if I create an advertising campaign but you have to guess what it is I'm selling. I could do with a bit of help here. Suggestions welcome.

Written for a prompt at CarpeDiem

first flowers

sketches of some of the little things springing up in the garden. Crocus, Iris reticulata, Jonquils.

spring's first dawn coloured by petals newly opened refreshed by first pick Earl Grey spring treat even in wartime we watch flowers bloom grasp at straws

Written for a prompt at CarpeDiem

ruffled feathers

It will become more like this when it gets older.

preening problems Black Swan movie ruffled feathers baby bluetit still too young to preen ~ are you asking me?

so much to learn untidy feathers juvenile juvenile untidy feathers so much to learn

Written for a prompt at CarpeDiem

water

silent trees and rocks supporting cast to water gushing down the merest tremble seen on the surface ~ but not heard

A waterfall pastel I did some years ago and the lake in the garden next to us representing both still and fast moving bodies of water.

Written for a prompt at CarpeDiem

borrowed words

there is already enough out in the garden to make a window-sill-scape.

it takes a while for pebbles on the beach to turn to sand I find karumi in Zen detachment from the daily grind in the flap of a butterfly’s wing our life has gone

These haiku sort of floated out from prose written by Annette Makino
Take a look at her lovely post HERE


Written for a prompt at CarpeDiem

brushes

paints call me the feel of a brush in your hand touching paper the need to flee embrace of the enchanter illuminated vellum reality flows into a stream of pixels handwashed

the need to flee embrace of the enchanter illuminated vellum This pertains to the fact that I am disturbed by large quantities of flowers. I love them one or two at a time, but am intimidated, overcome even, by flowers on a large scale. They enchant, of course, by their sheer beauty and volume, but they overpower at the same time. So the flight from the enchanter becomes a necessity, and I pluck just one or two for close-up enjoyment. Then the next step is to tame them into paint on paper or failing the time for that, a photograph, my version of illuminated vellum, on a somewhat more modest scale :-) For me landscape and horticulture have been such a powerful influence. Overwhelming at times, but I would not have liked to live without them.

Written for a prompt at CarpeDiem

raindrops

rainy day ~ no night for fireflies ~ tinged with silver light Lots going on, poetically , inside these three lines, even though I was totally unaware of any of this when I composed it. Took me all of two minutes, and 'happened' while I was busy taking the photograph, outside, in a rainstorm. None of these phrases were used before in any of my poems. They just sort of 'came' and the three lines fell into place without fuss. It was only much later, after I had made the haiga, that I noticed the features. I know that traditional haiku are supposed to shun these devices, but what is one to do when they appear unbidden? Seeing that I have foresworn the classic haiku format, I was quite chuffed with what my tired brain had gifted me.

Assonance is the repetition of vowel sounds to create internal rhyming within phrases or sentences == Alliteration is the repeated sound of the first consonant in a series of multiple words rainy day ~ no night for fireflies ~ tinged with silver light assonance in: rainy/day; night/fire/flies/light; tinged/with/silver/ alliteration in no/night; for/fire/flies; full internal rhyme in: night/light

Written for a prompt at CarpeDiem

viola riviana

viola riviana close bosom friend of primroses and phlox wild violets complement the cowslip my soul dances for joy why did the cow slip? because she saw the bull rush old chestnut

ne o tsukete / onago no yoku ya / sumire-so women's desire deeply rooted— wild violets Chiyo-ni 17th century My gardener's heart has to point out that pansies are not wild violets but a horticultural hybrid, nor are African violets, which are a totally different species, known as saintpaulia. Cowslip is Primula veris, the taller type of wild primrose, as in my picture. Primula vulgaris, below, lower to the ground, is the one found by waysides and in fields in large numbers at present. My garden is overrun with them, but they are very welcome.

Written for a prompt at CarpeDiem

red kite overhead

mealy-mouthed mewling from fierce-looking raptor red kite overhead

The red kite, a raptor like a buzzard, was near extinction about a decade ago. In the 16th and 17th century, ordinances went out in England to put them down whenever seen. These laws were relaxed a little over the years, but then farmers insisted that these birds took their young livestock and began exterminating them again. Lately people have realized that they are not in the least harmful and their numbers are now increasing. I love seeing them overhead and when there is a group of them, they dance on the thermals like a corps-de-ballet. There is a definite discrepancy between their awesome appearance and their faint whimpering cry.

Written for a prompt at CarpeDiem

meadow

sacred outlook in a meadowful of grass sways an orchis

Written for a prompt at CarpeDiem

puddled

shards of sky litter the rainsoaked road - double the blue

Written for a prompt at CarpeDiem

decay & after

a morning walk so full of glorious moments my mind is running over

brambles rear up nose around in the air - would-be suitors**

suitor

n.
1. A man who is courting a woman.
2. A person who makes a petition or request.
3. Law A person who sues in court; a plaintiff; a petitioner.
**4. A person or entity trying to acquire a controlling interest in a company, as by purchasing sufficient shares of its stock.

I wanted to indicate the invasive territorial nature of brambles, when they colonize an unkempt bit of garden or land.

jet overhead its sound furls downwards from a contrail of silk

scattering seeds tubby little goldcrest splatters the yew

sound of a Strad - drops of water rolling over velvet each clear note...

My depths are a bit shallow, but my soul is running over. a.k.a. Never mind the quality: feel the width. An unstoppable gush of words and images is suddenly set free. I feel like a poet again after four months' being on the leash. States Susumu Takiguchi: "Initial exploration of HAIKU by non-Japanese was like gunmo taizo wo naderu (a lot of blind men feeling a great elephant) whereby one says that the elephant is a tree trunk and another says that it is a giant fan, and so on. The loud voices saying that HAIKU was Zen, or HAIKU was not poetry, or HAIKU was Here and Now, or HAIKU was the product of the HAIKU moment, or HAIKU was nature poetry, or HAIKU was a verse in present tense, or HAIKU was devoid of ego, or HAIKU was an extremely serious and sacred business, or HAIKU reached some mysterious and profound truths captured in a few words, or HAIKU was not anthropomorphism, and all other hundreds of things rang out across the world and muffled any other voices saying things to the contrary." (World Haiku Review, 2008) Liberating, isn't it? We've been cocooned in what hundreds of people have said over the centuries, about the haiku form and its restrictions. Time to make up our own mind. Set it free and let the thoughts and feelings roll, like notes from a Strad over soft velvet. Let's celebrate the miracle that is the English language. Let's make our own three lined verses, honouring that language, which surely is the richest in the world. Let's walk side-by-side with the Japanese haiku, in mutual admiration, without slavishly copying what [we think] they are/were doing and do our own thing with our own spirit.

Written for CarpeDiem

light

within the dark - the light of living reveals a rose

in the light and dark of living white rose petals

Written for a prompt at CarpeDiem

bamboo

between the pine and the bamboo I lost my way

Time is of the essence: panic stations as I had no bamboo photo in my archives. Outside, with the torch in one hand and the camera in the other, searching for a decent branch of pine. Bamboo grows about ten feet away from the pine tree, but leaves and needles in one frame do not make a good photo. So a bit of improvisation was needed to set up a tableau for a fitting photograph.

Written for a prompt at CarpeDiem

happiness

a wild orchid eclipses a daisy any day wafts its perfume awaiting butterfly's administrations wild orchis giving happiness a voice on my knees [Anacamptis pyramidalis So rare, so precious source of my happiness]

Written for a prompt at CarpeDiem

companions

on the sly side by side they gobble leaves from the edge inwards

in the still water I see my stillborn twin I live both our lives

Written for a prompt at CarpeDiem