Archival Review

[LeBroz]

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The anticipation of Spring's arrival lives on up here in the Great Frozen North, despite lazy summer heat making an early sneak preview and with summer's start a mere two weeks away. Though we've been promised a return to Spring in time for Summer.


Great Anticipation
by dreamsweet©


Greatest anticipation
as the crabapple buds
first appeared, then uncurled,
and showed us
a gorgeous, fragrant,
monochromatic pink
bouquet.

I watch the harsh wind
take the brightest, darkest,
pink petals into the sky,
then land in cracks
of the pavement below.

Ever nearer Beltane
now draws toward me,
as the wind leaves only
the palest-flesh color
of the tree's vibrant display.

Greatest anticipation
now remains for me
curled in the buds
of each sunrise,
still bound up tight,
waiting to uncurl
with Beltane's arrival,
and bloom in
even more stunning
sights and scents.

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[LeBroz]

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Stream of consciousness? Or perhaps an alcohol inspired vision.


great thoughts
by steve porter©


so the sky is on our shoulders is it
and we drink because we must
(as well as because we can)
our indefinite reprieve suspended
until further notice…
therefore i think i am…
but what else can we really do
because well i mean after all
(delivered with a wink and a nudge)
it does move doesnt it.

and besides…our character is our fate
but is it because our hearts suffer change
well maybe so lets drink to that too…
tonight we want immortality
it is ours for the taking
we are god playing fools
and proving nothing…
yet all is permitted and although
we may be corrupted by power
we are cleansed by the poem.


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[LeBroz]

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A little hunger is such a key ingredient for greed to flourish.


Greed
by RazzRajen©


aahh often
does the urge to sup
at mysterious minds
arise

....and then the beast
within awakens,
never to stop
and
never to harken

....Takes what may be
there
and sups again
greedily

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[LeBroz]

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Digging himself in with every word he utters...


Green Eyes
by Mr. Unsexy©


I look deeply into your beautiful green eyes
Utterly mesmerized by the vision
Arrested by your eyes of hazel
That hypnotizing shade of brown
What I'd give to lose myself once more
In your deep blue eyes
Yes, I remember those grey eyes well
Okay, I remember them vaguely
Fuck it, I remember your tits

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[LeBroz]

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Here are some words from a poet who posted for barely four months, so many folk may have missed the contributions.


Green Hearts
by Preta©


We exchange green hearts
like baseball cards doubles,
good intentions wrapped
in self preservation.

We exchange green hearts
like after thought bar chum,
over frothy pints of ale
at 12:30 am,
when wanting nights are tapping your shoulder
and pointing your empty bed.

We exhange green hearts
in the hope that finally
the other
is color blind.

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[LeBroz]

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It's like the sensory experiences of life, all rolled into a poem. I find that I'm still feeling that the first three lines seem the strongest and the further along I read the weaker it seems to get. Go ahead and explore and see what you get from the experience.


Green Scream of a Dream
by Du Lac©


Lost on the frozen tundra of our past
Forever seeking the tropical breeze of tomorrow
A wasted life ignores the now
grand moments of the butterfly floating
ants marching
our heart beating
Lose yourself in the opening of the hibiscus
suckle the nectar
swim in the aroma of grateful seconds
Life lived on the edge of timeless horizons

Find joy in rolling thunder
hear the child's belly grumble in hunger
feed the moment of living
with the rich breast milk of the Goddess
flowing cleanly from the shades of grey
melting the tundra of our heart
so all can hear the green scream of a dream

Ride the comet streaking across black skies
and understand why the snow owl takes flight at night
Hawks circle and stare down upon the masses
Crying for all to be aware
Bonded slaves to societies plans
Leather whipped laws cruising our nightmares
The eagle floats on a warm current hinted with mangos and star fruit
Frozen tomorrow becomes today lost on the whim of yesterday
Soaked in the roots I sit and dream
Watching my soul fade to green


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[LeBroz]

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Try this for a bit of inspiration.


Grey Rock
by jazm49©


A small seed
fell into a crevice
of the grey rock
and sprouted,
forcing hair-thin roots into the depths,
reaching for sustenance.

I'd lived so long
sheltered by the grey rock,
cradled in its confusion,
learning to survive on deprivation,
I almost didn't hear
the thin disturbing sound
that pierced the dreary walls
of desolation.

It was as if
that wisp of green
had whispered,
had said to me,
"You must reach out to life
to live completely."

Crushed by fear and clenched in anger,
so self-divided I could only stare,
I chewed a bitter fantasy
of exposing hungry roots
to empty air.

But indifferent of my fierce regard
tiny leaves stretched up to catch each glint of sunlight
as fragile roots pressed down through lifeless dust
to distill a meager nourishment
out of paucity, pollution, negligence, and waste
till slowly, day by day,
the seedling gathered strength.

And day by day, with growing admiration,
I felt drawn beyond my wizened vision of my self
until I almost dared believe
there could be joy in living
there could be vibrancy and health.

But I couldn't free myself
.................of doubt and fear
until a sudden sound
thrust hope into my heart:

I heard
the roots of that small tree
.....split
............the rock
..........................apart!

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[Angeline]

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Try this for a bit of inspiration.


Grey Rock
by jazm49©


A small seed
fell into a crevice
of the grey rock
and sprouted,
forcing hair-thin roots into the depths,
reaching for sustenance.

I'd lived so long
sheltered by the grey rock,
cradled in its confusion,
learning to survive on deprivation,
I almost didn't hear
the thin disturbing sound
that pierced the dreary walls
of desolation.

It was as if
that wisp of green
had whispered,
had said to me,
"You must reach out to life
to live completely."

Crushed by fear and clenched in anger,
so self-divided I could only stare,
I chewed a bitter fantasy
of exposing hungry roots
to empty air.

But indifferent of my fierce regard
tiny leaves stretched up to catch each glint of sunlight
as fragile roots pressed down through lifeless dust
to distill a meager nourishment
out of paucity, pollution, negligence, and waste
till slowly, day by day,
the seedling gathered strength.

And day by day, with growing admiration,
I felt drawn beyond my wizened vision of my self
until I almost dared believe
there could be joy in living
there could be vibrancy and health.

But I couldn't free myself
.................of doubt and fear
until a sudden sound
thrust hope into my heart:

I heard
the roots of that small tree
.....split
............the rock
..........................apart!

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jazm49 is really good. He's definitely someone to explore if you don't know him. And he likes jazz. hehe.

 

[LeBroz]

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A pleasurable stroll down the street with vendors of all sorts but only one has the right ingredients that hit the spot.


Grilled Ham and Cheese Sandwich
by jacinta©


"Grilled ham and cheese sandwich, please,"
Bondi is replete,
With cuisines to eat,
So asking for this is a breeze.

"Grilled ham and cheese sandwich, please,"
"Falafel, so juicy and tende
Wielding a blade, hair in a braid,
Cute, but not the right vendor.

"Grilled ham and cheese sandwich, please,"
Beer-bellied okker, "G'day,"
"Pie, mushy peas, you'se from overseas?"
Smiles, shakes my head, walks away.

"Grilled ham and cheese sandwich, please,"
I know it's mundane,
But I want something plain,
Ham, maybe mayo and cheese.

"Grilled ham and cheese sandwich, please,"
A kerbside foggaccia stall,
Nice looking bloke, so eager to please,
But without any where-with-all.

"Grilled ham and cheese sandwich, please,"
"Vee hef le croissants,
Avec les chambons,
Voulez-vous, vould you like these?"

"Grilled ham and cheese sandwich, please,"
"Sure, half a mo,"
"A number two, Joe!."
Ham, cheese - slapped together with ease!

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[LeBroz]

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Here's one from someone we've not heard from in a bit; have a Corona.


Grilln' the Lime
by sandspike©


I am a Corona commercial,
sun grilled with a lime slice.
Each wave a current event,
each sunset seen through a longneck,
fish eye view of a golden world.

Never let a wave pass by,
nod to all the ladies - all shapes and sizes.
The sweat of congeniality
calling for a cordial,
each cordial calling for a companion.

Close your eyes - test the other senses,
hear the surf
taste the hops
touch the foam
smell the salt,
pass the time - grilln' the lime.

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[LeBroz]

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If all she is is your cook and bed warmer.....or all he is is your security blanket and status symbol, this message is for you. Cherish who you've got lest they'll be gone!


Grooming My Feathers
by irishcatsmeow©


It’s too late.
Many years were spent huddled
to my side of the mattress.
Pillow clutched to my breast
instead of your head.
Concentrated effort quieted the sobs
storming through my being.
Willing stillness to come to my body
so despair wouldn’t be felt trembling
against the pristine sheets.

Too much time has passed
held in inertia’s grip.
Tired of this routine,
languishing in a bed of inattention
holds no comfort.
Ready to take flight.
I’ve been grooming my feathers.
Yes, my lips are more defined.
I wear lipstick now; cherry cordial
tastes so sweet.
Waist is slimmer, eyes brighter.
That’s hope you see
mixed with self awareness;
my personal cocktail
goes down so smoothly;
stirred, not shaken.

Ignoring my needs didn’t make them disappear.
Self-discovery is a poignant process.
It’s your turn now.
You can’t prevent the outcome
or change it by chanting fancy phrases
and giving beautifully wrapped gifts.
Empty symbols echo hollow promises.
You had many chances
to make your nightingale sing.
She is fleeing while composing
a sacred song to guide her journey.
The hymn is memorized, the voice trained;
a solo act exploring azure skies.
Watch her soar.

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[LeBroz]

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Just in time for dinner, some vivid imagery and metaphors to leave your meal uneaten.


Growth
by RazzRajen©


Small things, little thoughts
waving and nodding
their heads in the breeze
Sometimes , the way the petals fall
can tell how the shrub was grown

Dig deep and look those
maggoty thoughts disappear
So much vermin, filled in minds
what will drive that out
Then, if driven out, the box opened

Maybe the bugs grubbing will
issue from My pores
Crawl from under My nails
leave to take over the others

Cloudy thoughts and stilled waters,
flow up and take the places
that I needed to be
who shall hold them close
and make them theirs

sometimes the wines soaks the ground ,
sometimes the earth gives up
its fertile gut
Everytime though
when I bury the ones,
They rise in another place

soft breaks in their skins
oozing My essence


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[LeBroz]

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Try the strangeness of this guest bedroom.


Guest Bedroom
by dorksicle©


I sort of like waving at my shadow
and watching my reflection in the New York City picture glass,
in this little house on a hill in Jersey.

But I feel so out of place
with Jesus watching me
in his royal purple robe by the window.

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[LeBroz]

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A Father's Day guilt trip?


guilt
by smithpeter©


This poem is for my own mental health.
Did we ever talk about my regret
that I never built a tree house for you?

now you won't go near a tree and drive
with cell phone duct taped to your ear
and I can't stop loving you

you look like me but with brains
cute and please
don't ever stop
growing up

but, that tree house…



092802

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[LeBroz]

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Here's a bit of inspiration to prod you into the wealth of introspection.


Guiltless
by champagne1982©


I've been thinking lately about
just what my place is here.
I know that we all have reason,
a cause, a justification,
that allows us to live,
free of guilt and sorrow.

Have you ever found that you
just sit and think about
why and how we all got here?
Is there a higher reason,
a power that doesn't need justification
to place an eternal soul, here, to live?

Free of guilt and sorrow,
a dream that haunts you,
and keeps your ideas flying about.
A midnight thought that ties you here
with a wish that you could know the reason,
the brilliant justification,
for why we are allowed to live,
free of guilt and sorrow.

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[LeBroz]

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Capturing the experience of being amongst a flock of gulls; they train those bipedal creatures so well in providing them sustenance.


gulls
by jthserra©


gulls

.....the white tumble of
........bread crumbs
.....swoop swallowed
...........to the wry cries
........of white, white
............hovering over me
...........waiting, waiting
.....my next toss
..then......flung high
........the swish, dive, cries,
...........three, five, no seven
..............a crash?
........but no, one soars
........victorious, swallowing
.....the crumb
...........breakwaves of white
...........waiting, waiting
..............floating
.................gulls

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[LeBroz]

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I know this place for I've been there too, one of those all-nighters {the studying kind}. Has a strange effect on the brain.


Guru Smackdown
by Liar©


Get ready to rumble when
a testosterone percolator
pitches a phronetic Yoda
against a Zen zoned up Miyagi.
Showdown at the breaking rays
on the edge of a power wave,
the night shift of information overload,
volume by volume.

Centuries, millenniums of twinkling light,
sparks of epiphany eternally separated
by eons, now concentrated
to an hellbent afternoon
of pre exam panic.

Let bygones be goddamn bygones,
and let me sleep.
Why did you have to clash
between my ears? I am mere mortal
and not prepared to be a whirlpool
of brilliance not mine
just yet.

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[LeBroz]

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Here's a vivid portrayal that seems to evoke the spirit of the Bistro Bijou.


Gypsy Lady
by irishcatsmeow©


Mask of intrigue
graces her face;
hides her worries,
not her past.
Aged to perfection;
timeless allure.
Dance, lady, dance.

Hips undulate
to the rhythm
of her melancholy;
beguiling, tantalizing.
Gasping thunder
storm swells within.

Beads outline
lush curves.
Rivulets of sweat
drip into
screaming cleavage;
pierce the calm.

Body sways
to night air.
Silent music
drowns the night.
Lost in the reverie
of her own making.

Hands mesmerize
unclasping a moment.
Fingers move
in elegant drifts;
reach to heaven
seeking inner solace.

Motion conveys
subliminal messages;
gyrating temptress.
Music telegraphs
into open pores,
emitting lyrical scent.

Neck arches
with tendrils of strain.
Head bows
while tears escape.
Face tightens
as she chants.


Click your heels;
reap your destiny!
It’s not too late.
Seize the dawn;
your prime is now,
as you
dance, lady, dance.


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[LeBroz]

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Here's one in which you can see the woman whose youth has fled.


Hag
by jessy19©


DeepCreases on her skin prove
that she's no longer young.
She walks down the street as quickly as she can
hoping not to miss the morning city bus.

She still works because
She has no one at home to talk to.
No one would take a second look
At her as she walks down the street.

She wears purple, almost everyday
with a matching scarf around her head to
protect her from the summer heat.
She is alone again.

No one cares who she is
or where she came from.
No one knows she's worked
hard all of her life.

She stops for a moment and looks
at the youthful pretty girls
with their dark locks and flawless skin,
who look at her strangely.
"Enjoy it while you can, because youth isn't forever," she says
and strides off to catch the morning bus.


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[LeBroz]

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May see a few poems like the following in the immediate near term — all these poems titled 'haiku'. This one is a good example of the soul of the haiku, without using the 5-7-5 rule.


haiku
by poetboy824©


the only sound
the snow

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[LeBroz]

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In reading through so many poems with haiku in the title, it seems that very few are true haiku. They are short or follow the 5-7-5 convention but lack the feel of the natural world. Most seem to be more zappai than haiku. Keeping that distinction in mind, let's see what these haiku-like poems look like over the course of the next few days.


haiku
by Tesshu©


Falling Autumn rain
like memories of the past,
cascade down my face.

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[LeBroz]

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Here's a short vivid nature image.


Haiku - Wildflower Spring
by Sander Roscoe Wolff©


Wildflower spring is
Exploding across meadows;
Dew clings to petals.


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[LeBroz]

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Here's a fine haiku-like poem. Actually, it's more a zappai and in economy of words it does better than most attempts at the haiku-like form. In this evening's posting I'll look at a couple of poems I didn't select, why, and how they could be improved to capture the haiku spirit.


Haiku of Sorrow
by Lauren Hynde©


Your hands over my eyes
Closing them amidst two kisses
Mournful and vacant

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[LeBroz]

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There were a total of 54 poems that start with the word haiku in the title. Of these, I selected just 7 for inclusion here on the thread. Many that I did not select were like mini-anthologies of haiku-like poems that were inconsistent in their quality. Besides, I'm of the mind that if you're doing a haiku, just do the one and don't offer up a collection; that approach seems to detract from the reader's attention. Again, many that I did not select, while rather good, seemed to not quite get it as a haiku. Here are a couple of examples of ones that just missed the mark.


haikus for lolly
by steve porter©


"haikus for lolly"

the flowers open...
the petals are shining with
tiny drops of dew.

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If you want, you can take a look at the whole collection offered in this poem through the link I've included. Here I'll just look at the first haiku in the collection. At first glance, it seems to be in the spirit of the haiku. But, in an attempt to conform to the 5-7-5 convention, words that convey nothing are included as filler such as the or with. The way that gerund is used makes this a more passive haiku; it comes across as telling the reader something, not showing the reader a scene from which he can draw his own inferences. Now, compare the above haiku with the version below that shows its full potential:

flowers open
petals shine
tiny drops of dew.

In the first version there's no mystery for the reader to contemplate; the poet over-describes the scene and limits the reader's experience. In the second version the reader can infer that the petals are shining because of the dew and, in thinking of this image, also come away with the idea of a cool summer morning. The reader can also come up with an image of it being the start of a sunny day, of actually being a part of the scene and experiencing it. The only limits with the second version are those the reader places on himself.

Here's another haiku that doesn't quite make it.


haiku_2
by Tesshu©


Sunlight on the wall
fleeting dreams of happiness
disappear at dusk.


Unlike my first example, this is the complete poem. This one also holds too many words in an effort to conform to that 5-7-5 convention. It's also more zappai than haiku. With a bit of editing it can give the reader much more to think about:

Sunlight on wall
fleeting dreams
disappear at dusk.

Now just look at the difference. In the original the poet is telling you that there's sunlight on the wall while in the edited version it's being presented to the reader to consider. And when is sunlight most likely to appear on a wall? At sunrise and sunset, when the sun's low and near the horizon. Now just look at that second line. Do you have dreams of misery, suffering, failure, or defeat? Most people's dreams are of a positive nature — dreams of success, riches, or just happiness. And by just saying fleeting dreams, it suggests something that you might want that is slipping away. It gives it a more universal appeal. So when a readers sees this he will see in it his own desire as slipping away.


Haiku is hard. And latching onto the 5-7-5 convention dilutes the work a poet does to present an image as I've shown above. But once you polish your haiku I think you'll be justifiably proud of the power of your work.

So far I've included four haiku from the list of 54 I read. There's one several posts up from poetboy824 that captures the spirit of haiku so well. The last three haiku I'll be posting are all from poetboy824. He seems to be more consistent in his haiku poems and I hope you'll enjoy the selections I've made.

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[LeBroz]

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Here's an image you'll have a hard time shaking. Note: The third line turns this from a haiku to a senryu; it starts off as pure Nature but ends up being used to make a humorous observation about the human condition.


haiku: 40th Summer
by poetboy824©


two white butterflies
on a fresh cowpie --
my fortieth summer

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