haibun, Haiku, Poetry, we write poems

wwp.today

soft still freedom sounds
babbling baby bears fruit
blazing barriers

dawn quietly breaks awakening exhaustion one realizes the reality of being alive. the bombs continue nonstop. our daily routine has changed to survival. lives once held so carelessly have now changed to blood bones and please breathe. praying to our god for safety. leaving home we search for lost freedom to return. a candle burns bringing light and warmth to the darkest dark where there is no path.
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we write poems: haibun; one single impression: underground

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Big Tent Poetry, haibun, Poetry

diapedesis

big tent poetry: Write a travel log in which you encounter a mythical creature and for an extra challenge in haibun form; photo: sculpture, .Baz, flickr

day 5.  5 am. the trek of a lifetime begins. location. a dry airless desert

early morning enters these cloistered walls of shape shifting sand dunes
immediately the mind motor starts to spin tiny sticky secret sightings
footprints passing i’ve awakened the others. ancient baptism beguile

heading towards a gathering, cool clear waters sparkling
submerged under a deep pail pouring—over, saturate and shackle
seeking ablution misty moisture clears the alluvial residue of restraint

day 10.  1 pm.  it’s really hot here. location. a dry airless desert

finding a few dry bones beneath a sandcastle sinking
the touch takes a telepathic thunderbolt turn
a sudden request registers roars the surrounding sand blowing shroud

vociferous and unrestrained, i’m talking to a tempest
blown adrift, an impossible power, her reply sui generis

day 12. a million grains of sand erupting. location. a dry airless desert

tumbling towards the hot blazing sun
the dunes erase the graveled highway route

the tempest taunts my travels today
glazing in the glare of her furrowed face
the eyes burn with a stinging bite
the grit of sand’s language she savors the trace

unable to sit she bears her teeth a blustery breeze disturbance
in the folds of cloth’s lucidity sincerity shields my soul
bumpy and unsettling tactics transpose
we continue this tumultuous encounter

day 21. 7 pm. the wind continues. location. within the tempest

a whirl and a mist her breath blows, chewed and charmed the scent of souls
wanderers corralled, lost along their way. when where does she come from i hide in her midst.

running wild wounds
healing sooth salve surrender
savor the escape

*diapedesis, breaking through
sui generis, of its own kind

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