dates & time – Page 28 – don't confuse the narrator

haiku for fools

Although I can’t find the date on the About Times Haiku page, I can only assume April 1st is the kigo (seasonal reference) that has justified this page of “Serendipitous Poetry from The New York Times“.

In addition to the 5-7-5 syllable “rule”, the NYT explain:

A proper haiku should also contain a word that indicates the season, or “kigo,” as well as a juxtaposition of verbal imagery, known as “kireji.”

They then admit:

That’s a lot harder to teach [as] an algorithm, though, so we just count syllables like most amateur haiku aficionados do.

It’s rather late in the day, so I’ll simply offer a picture of the weeds in my garden – a “juxtaposition of vernal imagery”, which is as close to a kireji as I can manage right now.

Note that the weeds are certainly green and also rather cabbage-looking; perhaps they would have been good subjects for April Fools’ Day pranks.

Easter gifts

It’s Easter and I’ve realised that I don’t remember any of the Easter eggs I was given as a child, though I’m fairly sure there must have been some and I’m sure I was quite excited about them at the time.

Later on, I may have been given chocolates, flowers or other gifts by friends and lovers; no doubt they put a dutiful amount of thought into the choosing and the giving.

Perhaps I even gave presents to other people. If I did, though, I don’t remember.

In fact, from all the Easter gifts given and received during more than fifty years, I only remember one – the book in the picture.

The dedication inside shows just how long ago I was given it:

Half a century from now, how many people will reach for their e-reader and bring up a digital file that will have the power to connect them to the past in the way this book connects me?

paschal moon

With nicotine-stained fingers, she pushes aside
the net curtains of the clouds and stoops
to look through your bedroom window.

Continue reading “paschal moon”

snowdrops

It’s half a lifetime since I spent so long in the UK at this time of year, and I’m revelling in the early signs of spring.

(The real natural signs, that is, not forced daffodils that have been in the shops since before Christmas, nor the bargain strawberries imported from Spain, however fresh and sweet they are.)

Now the local daffs are promising and will soon be brightening all the gardens, motorway verges and railway embankments. (I imagine a great golden wave that starts in the south west and works its way slowly up to the far north of Scotland.)

For the moment, though, there are snowdrops; more, perhaps, than I have ever seen in my life. I’m currently learning to use a new camera, so there will probably be more snowdrop photos than ever before, too.

Boxing Day

on a foreign shore: icing-tipped waves
toss tinsel into the clear air. We play
at Wenceslas in the sand, taking it in turns
to be the page. We look for sea holly and sing
carols under the curious gaze
of a parrot in a palm tree.

(Like the last couple of posts it’s not new. It’s also a repost, but I think the blog has different readers now. Incidentally, don’t waste time trying to find the parrot in the photo: it wasn’t actually that palm tree!)