Category Archives: Haiku

Rejoice – Haibun by Paul Vincent Cannon

At dVerse Frank is hosting Haibun Monday with an invitation to write about bird songs.

dVerse Poets – Haibun – Bird Songs

Photo: a cormorant or shag sitting on the boardwalk at Bunbury Wetlands.

“I once asked a bird, how is it that you fly in this gravity of darkness? She responded, ‘love lifts me.'” Hafez

Rejoice

I've never not heard a bird sing. There's never been a moment when bird song has failed to cut through the joy or tragedy of a day, to surmount the ineffable experiences of life or the tumult of blood
rush, some conjured excitement or foreboding feeling.

I've heard magpies in the heat of the night, curlews before a storm, the flit and twit of honeyeaters no matter the rain, the wattle bird's beak snapping through my mind, crows in the haze of bush fire, the beautiful song of the butcher bird in the middle of a wedding.

Birds, those harbingers of joy, care not for our circumstances and yet they conspire to bring us unbridled joy. Their's is a life sung and we are the privileged guests for their performance. There's never been a moment when I haven't rejoiced in the song of a bird.

Musk duck quinks a joy
as rain washes the low reeds
songs part autumn clouds




Note: Quink is the closest onomatopoeia to the sound of the musk duck I could come up with and then I found it is indeed a word - a type of goose!

Copyright 2022 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
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Blossom Delight – Haibun by Paul Vincent Cannon

At dVerse Frank is hosting the Haibun (prose plus haiku) with an invitation to write about Cherry Blossom.

dVerse Poets – Haibun Monday – Cherry Blossoms

Photo: wallpapersin4k.org

“What a strange thing! To be alive beneath cherry blossoms.” Kobayashi Issa

Blossom Delight

The beauty of cherry blossom carries and obvious feminine comparison. So many possible metaphors of bloom, petals, pastel, limb and fruit, and not least strong roots. And what a spectacle it is, the few we have here catch my eye and set my heart alight every spring and summer.

But not my palate. While my lover loves to gorge on cherries, I prefer just looking at the blossom as the fruit is not to my taste, though I admit, it looks fabulous and feels good too it is not a fruit I enjoy. And that is so true of many things, as is the reverse. My lover is my delighting fruit, but there are many blossoms to appreciate along the avenue of life.

Cherry had beauty
smooth limbs budding before me
rising love blossoms



Copyright 2022 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
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Is The Hat? – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

At dVerse Mish is hosting Poetics with an invitation to write about hats.

dVerse Poets – Poetics – Leave Your Hat On

Photo: Marlene Dietrich – found on pinterest.com

“Life is like a new hat. You don’t know if it suits you if you keep trying it on in front of your own mirror.” Shirley McLaine

Is The Hat?

The hat sits lightly
its signature by the tilt
perhaps hats are true


Copyright 2022 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
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No Bluff On The Knoll – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

At dVerse Frank is hosting the Haibun with an invitation to write inspired by Hanshan (Cold Mountain) the mystical figure of Chinese poetry (9th C) – option 1 to write about a mountain experience real or metaphorical, or 2 to follow the experience of Hanshan. For more detail, follow the link below.

dVerse Poets – Haibun Monday – Cold Mountain

Photo: The summit of Bluff Knoll, 1,100 metres shrouded that day in mist (cold and misty at the top, autumnal and warm rainy middle, summer at the bottom).

“My father considered a walk among the mountains as the equivalent of churchgoing.” Aldous Huxley

No Bluff On The Knoll

It wasn't sudden by any means. Autumn was giving leave of senses and we decided, he and I, to create a moment, an event in our lives that mattered in the cool of that meaningful April, when summer was on the run and winter was leaving hints everywhere in our path. We decided on Bluff Knoll, a small but determined mount worthy of a days climb that would fracture our patterned minds, opening us to something new.

We watched each other for signs of something, I don't really know what. But I know he gave of his youth and I surrendered my pretences , he not judging, me simply admitting my limitations and grateful for his patience as I aged along the way. The physical exertion so demanding we were not inclined to talk much, but in the valley of debrief there was deep gratitude. If there is a god, they were in our unspoken, heartfelt glances divine. It was enough.

Before us the knoll
ever the old ways we know
autumn brings new eyes



Copyright 2022 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
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Winter – a Haiku by Paul Vincent Cannon

At dVerse Lisa is hosting Poetics with an invitation to engage with the Japanese (derived for the Chinese) seventy-two seasons comprised of: Major season – Sekki; Minor Season within – Ko. See the link below for more info.

dVerse Poets – Poetics – One of Seventy-two Seasons

Photo: from soothingrelaxation.com

“Rain is the language of flowers”. Emily Dickinson

In this attempt Sekki is early winter as shown in soft droplets, and Ko is shown in how the snails respond in the arrival of moisture.

Winter

Soft droplets splatter
all rivers convergence
snails slowly swim up


Copyright 2022 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
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Spring – a Haiku by Paul Vincent Cannon

At dVerse Lisa is hosting Poetics with an invitation to engage with the Japanese (derived from Chinese) 72 seasons and to write a haiku based on – Sekki as major season and Ko as minor season within the major. For in depth information click the link below for dVerse and further links.

dVerse Poets – Poetics – One of Seventy-two Seasons

Image: from behance.net a slice of the 72 Japanese seasons.

“The night air was soft and laden with the redolence of impending blossoms.” Meeta Ahluwalia

My choice of major and micro season are: Sekki – Spring; Ko – Risshun (beginning of spring). Damsel flies are an early sign of spring, there is both joy in the coming of spring and sadness that winter is going (because it is fleeting – which means, ergo, that spring is also short lived). The fireplace empty means spring is here, a different nuance.

Spring

Damsel flies buzzing
sadness and joy are intertwined
fireplace is empty


Copyright 2022 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
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The Unfolding – a Haibun by Paul Vincent Cannon

At dVerse Frank is hosting the Haibun with an invitation to write about winter.

dVerse Poets – Haibun – Winter

Photo: from a couple of years ago, a winter storm rolls in on the south west corner of Western Australia – Augusta, where two oceans meet. The waves sure were thundering in. Visible is the historic waterwheel which fed fresh water to the Lighthouse community behind me. If you look real close there’s a gull on the wooden channel atop the wheel.

“In seed time learn, in harvest teach, in winter enjoy.” William Blake

The Unfolding

Hitchcockian howl growl winds push water into thunderous demolition of delicate sands, forever changing the face of this coastal scape. Plovers have retreated to the high dunes, gulls and terns have taken refuge. Tomorrow it will slow and the next day it will settle, but nothing will be the same. Every bruise irrevocably changes the fundamental fabric of this tapestry I look upon. Torn limbs and trunks strewn, the line of sand permanently altered, rocks covered or exposed.

The singular delighting indulgence is to brave the aftermath and the cold and walk the littered beach of treasures, shells, driftwood, someones things, the sadness of a dead fish. The gulls scree once again, plovers skitter along and crabs scuttle as if nothing has happened. There is at once a horror and awe at the sheer force of it all, and in both there is the child's eyes.

skies darkening low
wind wraiths storm tender soft sands
trinkets offered up

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Journey To Celebration – Haibun by Paul Vincent Cannon

At dVerse Lisa is hosting the Haibun with an invitation to write about Celebration.

dVerse Poets – Haibun – Celebration

Photo by Nicole Michalou from Pexels

“And so this is Christmas and what have you done?” John Lennon


Journey To Celebration

La Nina grips our western coast, it's hotter than hell, 45c (113f) up in the city, hot enough to boil my blood. Surely everyone will come to us on the southern coast, no trekking for us this year we're staying bunkered in the coolness.

Soon the days are passing fast and it seems that all are on their way and the journey to celebration has begun. Much sweeping, cooking, decorating, though no bulwark against the christmastide that annually washes over us. And as time inevitably shortens to its point, we hear the news that they're only an hour away. All that must be done is done though imperfectly arranged.

Our apprehensive energy is released at every hug and hello, the food is such a synchromesh of cheer, it garners every word and smile. We ride the lows of politics and the controversies of the family lines while lifting high on living well, of dreams, of visions, of aspirations, our thoughts are projected well.

All too soon we've chewed the fat, and over hours and days all must depart, a small grief occupies our hearts. It seemed a long road to this moment, now it has come and passed, all are sated and spent. The storm we talked up has settled now, and in the quiet of the house we rest in our happy glow.

sun heats the earth
summer celebrations run
a small grief fills hearts


Copyright 2022 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
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Time – a Haiku by Paul Vincent Cannon

Photo: Along the Blackwood River – pelicans enjoying the sun.

“Time passes like clouds in the sky. Weeks and months go by as if they were a single day.” Yann Martel

A Haiku for Time

days within all days
time quickly passes slowly
river laps my feet


Copyright 2022 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
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Thanks For Today – Haibun by Paul Vincent Cannon

At dVerse Frank is hosting the Haibun with an invitation to give thanks.

dVerse Poets – Haibun – Giving Thanks

Photo: a bobtailed lizard on its regular journey around the house.

“I like this place and could willingly waste my time in it.” William Shakespeare

Thanks For Today

Today was an honest day, one of those hard slog days to make something happen that has waited in abeyance for all the right things to fall into place. The creation of a centre-piece pond that one day soon will be home to koi and lotus. A perfect place to rest awhile and reflect, to find a sit-spot and draw near.

I was engrossed in my tasks, but nature interrupted me. The flutter of a honeyeater next to me working the tree, a diving beetle below me ever hunting, some blue-banded bees stirring the nectar with great care, and a bobtailed lizard sneaking past across the horizon, checking up on me. I drifted into this vista and paused to reflect and give thanks for these precious gifts and the richness of this moment.

one more paving brick
my stack is getting much thinner
diving beetle smiles.


Copyright 2021 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®

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