#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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Poem: Lunes – “Nature’s Rule.”


Today’s Poetry 101 prompt is landscape with apostrophe (directed to a specific person or an object). 


Mother nature
http://www.imgwide.com

Something about blazing summer warmth,

You can experience,

Deep peace, through your bones.


Sun shimmering down on home.

And I appreciate,

Your magnificent view surrounding us.


Some call you Mother Earth,

Others say Gaia,

Some say you’re only Nature.


Queen of fresh bustling growth.

Flowers bursting forth,

With blooms; fruit maturing later.


Grandiose bites of peaches sticky,

Dribbling down my —

Chin; gifts provided, by nature.


Leaves crispy, flourishing, growth budding.

Sky alive pours.

Increasing farmer’s yield; harvest amplifying.


The world turns and you answer.

Seasons in exact,

Moment of time revealed true.


You magnificent lady; dancing in —

Summer’s dreaming months,

You tease; before snow sprinkles.


Gigantic mountains, shifting in time,

You allow them,

Crash, crush, erupt; tectonic formations.


Baby animals; fuzzy and adored.

Their seasons pass.

Time taking back; new born.


Eyes scanning the vastness of,

Your empire; nature,

Praying we don’t interfere; destroy.


Asking Creator for peace, grace.

Don’t let humans,

Ruin earth; mother nature’s domain.


©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.