Mindlovemisery's Menagerie

A dose of fetish. Good friends. An incomparable muse.

Heeding Haiku With Chèvrefeuille, May 24th 2017 clouds

Dear friends of MLMM,

This week it is time to create haibun again. Haibun, prose and poetry united, is a wonderful way to write your feelings and thoughts down. Haibun was brought to a wonderful height by Matsuo Basho and through his “Narrow Road Into The Deep North”, haibun became known around the globe.

This week I have chosen the theme CLOUDS and I think it can inspire you. Your haibun may count a maximum of 300 words (including the haiku).

Have fun!

When you have written your haiku, please TAG Heeding Haiku with Chèvrefeuille and Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie. Then add your link to the Mister Linky widget below.

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About Chèvrefeuille

I am a Dutch haiku poet. And I am the owner and host of the weblog "Carpe Diem, a daily haiku meme" on Blogger (or Blogspot). I am writing haiku since the late eighties and in 2005 I became an international known haiku poet and in 2011 ten of my haiku were included in a worldwide anthology "Spasms of Light". With that anthology I became an even more known haiku poet. In October 2012 I started my daily haiku meme.

6 comments on “Heeding Haiku With Chèvrefeuille, May 24th 2017 clouds

  1. Pingback: Heeding Haiku With Chèvrefeuille, May 24th 2017 clouds – Ladyleemanila

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  3. flashpoetguy
    May 24, 2017

    ABOVE US ONLY CLOUDS

    Prescott saw faces in the clouds. Of course, we laughed, we who grounded ourselves to terra firma, immersking our lives in the present tense of everyday reality. He craned his neck toward the sky; we riveted our eyes on what lay ahead of us.

    “Look!” he would say. “Can you see it? A stampede of Camarillo whites, dappled greys, red roans!”

    Though we nodded, we saw only a puffy jumble of white and gray formations, certainly not the wild horses Prescott described that raced their water-crystaled hooves across the afternoon sky.

    We humored his imagination, wild as it was, but among ourselves we agreed the iron plate in his head accounted for these skyward excursions into fantasy. We knew him before the war. Before shrapnel seared away his dreams and exiled him to what we called “the sky life.”

    We saw giant tufts up there and paid them no mind. Prescott saw the cloud theatrics of circus shows, war battles, parades of lost loved ones, and applauded their performances.

    “Can you see them?” he’d ask. “The captain and the boys are racing toward the white hills. The white confetti of artillery quietly spraying everywhere.”

    Nadine said she saw Prescott’s smiling face stream down tears.

    behind dancing clouds
    soft as cotton
    hides a waiting sun

    #

    • Chèvrefeuille
      May 30, 2017

      What a beautiful haibun.

      • flashpoetguy
        May 31, 2017

        Thank you! If poetry had a heart, Eastern forms would keep it beating.

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This entry was posted on May 24, 2017 by in Uncategorized.
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