#NaPoWriMo Day 12/Poet’s Pub: Poem – Haibun – “The Battle” #dVerse #poetry #amwriting


For NaPoWriMo Day 12, the Prompt is: to “write a haibun that takes in the natural landscape of the place you live. I have to my surprise, never written in this form, so here’s a definition from Haibun– Poets.org:


“Haibun is a poetic form that allows one to answer some of these questions while providing a fresh perspective through a lens that focuses on nature and landscape. Haibun combines a prose poem with a haiku. The haiku usually ends the poem as a sort of whispery and insightful postscript to the prose of the beginning of the poem. Another way of looking at the form is thinking of haibun as . . . a prose poem ending with a meaningful murmur of sorts: a haiku.”


Also, I’m combining with Paul Scribble’s #dVerse Poet’s Pub, poetic prompt on a quote about poetic arts. The two prompts fit together well.


To write about poetry is to believe that there are answers to some of the questions poets ask of their art, or at least that there are reasons for writing it, writes Michael Weigers, editor of the anthology This Art: Poems about Poetry (Copper Canyon Press, 2003).


Credit: FreeStocks.org via Unsplash


Past the ravine, the North Saskatchewan flows; ice on her surface where Spring’s murmuring waters compose. The snow floats, sheets of ice crack, confused, the rivers pull bursts through. Amidst howling winds and bitter nights of chill, Spring waltzes in with lilacs. But old-man winter berates with frost, slippery roads, broken sidewalks. Spring blossoms and explodes, to weave the buds that summon bees. Springs drugged words ignored, no lush greenery bursts. Leaves rot, the ice, the snow, the muck, the refuse mushed, derelict without Spring’s blossoms. She hums her tune, an heals Winter’s hacking cough; she pleads her assurance of poppy fields. The old-man shakes his fist with cantankerous growl — another ‘last’ snowstorm grits. The poet composes in metaphorical bliss, avoiding morn’s beams. The question of, “Why?” No matter. The question of, “How can I not?” Words that enthral.

*****

Sleep in poppy’s opium kiss,

Revel in sunlight’s verdant bliss;

Spring’s song; poet’s light.


©Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.

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Saturday Mix: Poem – Bop – “Mysterious Humming” #poetry #saturdaymix #amwriting 


Thanks to Theresa of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting Saturday Mix. Today’s prompt is a poem or piece of prose to describe a hummingbird or another creature using unique similes and metaphors. 

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Credit: Eden Hills – MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie

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Silent but for humming, sound of wind, 

Whizzing, flying, carbon bubbles sigh

A tune of a melody, light, profound, 

Sweetness of ambrosia nector cries, gold drowns. 

Sleekness and color, bright, bold splashed paint, 

Fast and fleet, wings of bubble bees rate. 

Fluttering of bedazzling delight teasing. 

Flit and flutter, bird or bee dreaming, 

As comets blazing across the sky beam. 

Music created, of soothing toned sweet hums, 

In churches as monks chant matins well sung. 

Soul of being, flash of sight, slight thrumming

Awake in the nostalgia, dreams summoning. 

Such honey, sugared lies, praises so sweet. 

Observing the beating, a golden snitch fleeting

Fluttering of bedazzling delight teasing. 

Please let me catch you, most superior bird, 

Chirp and chatter with warbling tweet words. 

Catch the bird thrumming, humming his own song, 

Words of a lifetime lift the world prolong. 

Wisdom knows, one cannot catch butterfly clouds, 

Nor humming birds, who flutter profound

Fluttering of bedazzling delight teasing. 

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©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved.