Contents
 

 

 

Sketchbook 

John Daleiden, US

 


Shan-zi

In This Season

Under the tree
gifts for everyone—

a dolly for Jane,
a train for Bill.

The chior sings,
"Peace on the earth,
Good will to men".

 

 Fibonacci and Haiku

To The Artist Poet

old friends meet
in the morning sky
sun and moon

the
art
of words
knows no bounds—
each poem like a soul,
etched in memory,
a painting—
color,
shape,
line,
and form
on pages
preserved for the eyes
of future ages.

a rose bouquet
with delicate scent
hello, old friend
 

 

 

 Cinquain

 In My Dreams

I think
there is a realm
more fabled than this land
where tears are gold and kisses fill
the sky.

 

 

All That Night

surprised,
trapped in blizzard
conditions, we played games—
the house scented with hickory
burning
 

 

A Guiding Light

Star bright,
shine through the night,
lead us to faith and peace—
the paths through these dangerous woods
are dark.

John Daleiden
 

 

 

Mirror Tetractys

When I Am First Aroused From Sleep My Love

sing
sweetly
like the dove
at morning light—
fill my waking dreams each day with delight.
Oh vision, vanish not into the bright
bluster of day
forgotten
in one
yawn.
 

 

 

Haiku

lion and lamb
lie down beside each other—
the stuff of dreams

 

 

without their voices
these geese would be lost
snow after dawn

 

 

new snow fall—
the smell of  liniment oil
beside a log fire

 

 

deer tracks
in the new snow--
Rudolf, my son says.
 

 

 

Tanka

Looking back—
along the sandy trail. . .
emptiness follows
invisible to most eyes
I imagine Indian ghosts    

 

 


Echoes

hear those voices
whisper from another time—
listen with me

Once there were cows here,
who returned at dusk each day
to leave their nourishing milk;
now there are only ghost
sounds of an old cow bell
lost among the wind blowing
through the toppled copula
and broken stone foundation.
Between the shattered white
barn siding, the sun and wind
mingle with the chirp of sparrows.

fleet and fleeting
time is a ravisher—
dust to dust

 

 


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