Choka - Fireside Thoughts

Carpe Diem Ghost Writer Post #39
I was not familiar with the Choka so I have excluded an excerpt from Georgia of Bastet and Sekhmet's Library and our hosts inspiration image.

Choka were long, commemorative poems (in fact choka means the long poem) and the longest ran sometimes over 100 lines!  They were usually sung.  There were about 400 choka copied in the 8^thcentury anthology of waka entitled Man'yoshu (Collection of Ten Thousand Leaves).

The classical choka is formed by writing 5-7 syllables couplets for as many lines  as you like ending however with an extra 7 syllable line.  

©  G.s.k. ’14

Fireside Thoughts

wet snow and ice cling

branches bowed from extra weight

winter sun rises

beyond the blue mountaintop

wrapped in threadbare coat

peasant woman shuffles by

head bent against wind

hands tightly wrapped in old cloth

cheerful morning lark

chirps his gay song from treetop

yellow dog limps by

fur lightly coated in frost

I squat by my fire
stirring a can of red beans

drinking in sunlight

thoughts drifting away on smoke

oblivious to the cold

Ghost Writer #38

Carpe Diem "Ghost Writer #38"

So I wrote 2 haiku for prompts each  of the three prompts:
withered mums, winter grasses, orchids

feathery plumage

dusted with snow

winter grasses

feathery pampas

brown and gold

against winter white

end of the season

heads bowed in sorrow

withered mums

withered mums

forgotten on doorstep

faded dreams

aerial roots 

spreading tendrils

fragrant orchid

fragrance abounds

in overgrown hothouse

winter orchids

Frost "Dust of Snow"

Carpe Diem Ghost Writer # 37
To read Robert Frost's poem click the link above.

bright snowy day

frosted pines

myriad of footprints

little boy whacking trees

avalanche on head

Haiku Noir

Carpe Diem Ghost Writer #34 Haiku Noir
Ghost writer Jen from Blog It or Lose It

This prompt inspired a rash of unrelated poems:

steady rain

city full of dark streets

shadows lurk

alone in my room

broken laughter from the street

thick smoke and whiskey

traveling alone

desolate country road

your ghost follows

sweltry night

darkness tinged with fear

street lamp beckons

amidst the gaiety

behind the Mardi Gras masks

shadows stalk

banks of river

gauzy haze, murky water

two hookers smoke

The Cold Within the Sound

Carpe Diem Ghost Writer # 35 Otagaki Rengetsu

This first one I wrote twice, one with the 31 syllables and one without.  Not sure which version I like better.  

winter snow

blankets the earth

deep silence falls

long shadows reaching

as cold creeps under skin

heavy winter snow

blankets the dormant earth

deep silence engulfs

long shadows stretch across lawn

as cold creeps under my coat

~

tree branches groan

under the weight

of snow and ice

inside we huddle by candle light

and shadows feed the fire

~

frozen droplets spit

crackling on the window pane

winter sounds chilling

I snuggle against your back

my cold hands disturb your sleep

Kanshicho

Carpe Diem: Ghost Writter 34  

Chèvrefeuille" definition of Kanshicho

Kan -> means: perception, expression

Shi -> means extravagance, pride, poetry

Cho -> means frivolity, number, butterfly

Kanshi -> means Chinese poetry

As I place those meanings together than Kanshicho means:

A poem in the Chinese way that expresses the extravagance and pride of the poet with the frivolity of the flight of a butterfly. And than Kanshicho starts to come to life. It's an expression of something which is seen by the poet, a moment as short as the sound of a pebble thrown in to water, in which he/she sees the extravagant beauty  and pride of nature. That extravagance beauty is caught in a three lined verse with the frivolity, (in my opinion frivolity means "not strings attached, free") of the flight of a butterfly.

My attempts:

early morning

high above the trees 

crescent moon shines

I got stuck on the word pride and these thoughts came: 

new baby

everyone oohs and aahs

ours - most beautiful

haiku

retweeted

swelling with pride

Richard Wright on Autumn

Carpe Diem Ghost Writer #33 Richard Wright on Autumn by Jen of Blog It or Lose It

a few Richard Wright haiku I found

I feel autumn rain
Trying to explain something
I do not want to know.

A leaf chases wind
Across an autumn river
And shakes a pine tree.

Droning autumn rain:
A boy lines up toy soldiers
For a big battle.

My attempts at this prompt : Lots of cold wet poems:

hazy autumn moon

caught in the oak tree branches

with curls of white smoke

Image from http://songsoflight.typepad.com/

~

November rain falls

leaves swirling in the gutter

puddles in the road

~

cold November rain

changes to icy drizzle

soaks though my worn boots

~

mid autumn evening

moonlight and raindrops glisten

light pools on pavement

~

dreary November

rain strikes colored umbrellas

which dot the sidewalk

~

bitter north wind blows
last of the dry autumn leaves
in mound at my feet

"A Dream Within a Dream"

Carpe Diem Ghost Writer #32, A Dream Within a Dream
This prompt was from Jen of Blog It or Lose It

I was inspired to write a haiku, a tanka, and a haibun

sound of my sobs

muffled in the crashing waves

my heart erased

~

sands of time held still

one last kiss upon your brow

I pause, hold my breath

afraid to open my eyes

your footsteps washing away

_

Haibun for Karen

When a family friend passed away at age 51, it brought tears to my eyes and heart.  She was an athlete, took good care of her body, ate healthy, lived a clean life.  They received her diagnosis on a family vacation to the ocean.  As she walked with her younger sister they found a broken sand dollar.  Her sister remarked how it was a shame it could not be whole.  Here in my friend remarked about how she liked the broken pieces best.  That they were like all of us incomplete; you never knew when two pieces would fit together to make something beautiful.  Her brothers combed the beach that night and collected buckets of broken sand dollars.  These were passed out at her celebration of life along with the story much better told and her words more elegantly written.  My fragment has long since been ground up in my purse and the paper lost in an avalanche of things to keep,  but reading Poe’s “A Dream with in a Dream” brought this to mind.  Life is a messy journey and even broken things hold much beauty.

   

sand dollar fragments

wash in on moonlit shore

fragile life, wanes