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Sketchbook

a journal for eastern and western forms

 

Haiga

"moss" - Poem this Picture

Shanna Baldwin Moore, US

 

The Winning Entry Is . . .

 

 

Congratulations Jacek Margolak, PL

 

Commended Entery . . .

 

Free Verse

 

Jon Davey, UK

Moss

As germs seethe, Moss says:

"I scoff at your minuscule malignancy.
Your ephemeral legions
Shall do me no harm.
I'll sit here and shrug,
August and immutable!"


As ants swarm, Moss asks:

"Why the maddening
Adherence to work?
Be still for a while
And consider the self."


As spiders spin, Moss laughs:

"How ostentatious!
I lie here replete in my
Slow-spreading simplicity.
No need have I
To stalk or spring a trap."


As peacocks strut, Moss sniggers:

I find this narcissism ridiculous.
I pour scorn your reproductive urge!
Happy and self-contained am I,
Complete in my ashen singularity.


As cattle chew, Moss grins:

"You folk are getting close to it.
But why the mad and trampling haste?
The slaughter house
Is close enough already."


As gods fall, Moss says:

"I've seen your like come and go.
No need of deity have I,
Save this shady bower
And the secret places of the heart."


As men plot, Moss sings:

"Be like me and
Meditate on the sound of
No hands clapping.
Then come back in a billion years
And I may give you the answer!"

 

Congratulations Jon Davey, UK . . .

 


"moss" - Poem this Picture Contest

Write a poem in any form for this Picture

Send your entry to PoemThisPicture@poetrywriting.org by August 25, 2010.  The winning poem and this picture will be published in the next issue of Sketchbook.
 

 

The Contestants

 

Free Verse

 

Jon Davey, UK

Moss

As germs seethe, Moss says:

"I scoff at your minuscule malignancy.
Your ephemeral legions
Shall do me no harm.
I'll sit here and shrug,
August and immutable!"


As ants swarm, Moss asks:

"Why the maddening
Adherence to work?
Be still for a while
And consider the self."


As spiders spin, Moss laughs:

"How ostentatious!
I lie here replete in my
Slow-spreading simplicity.
No need have I
To stalk or spring a trap."


As peacocks strut, Moss sniggers:

I find this narcissism ridiculous.
I pour scorn your reproductive urge!
Happy and self-contained am I,
Complete in my ashen singularity.


As cattle chew, Moss grins:

"You folk are getting close to it.
But why the mad and trampling haste?
The slaughter house
Is close enough already."


As gods fall, Moss says:

"I've seen your like come and go.
No need of deity have I,
Save this shady bower
And the secret places of the heart."


As men plot, Moss sings:

"Be like me and
Meditate on the sound of
No hands clapping.
Then come back in a billion years
And I may give you the answer!"

 

Haiku

 

Barbara A. Taylor, AU

sustenance…
lacy cells spreading
into lacy cells

 

Free Verse

 

Mike Scheidemann, IL

Beneath the Moss

Ducking young sun's barbs, we sank into a hidden garden,
Through sun-filtered waves and scintillating shadows,
Where subterranean monsters boasted shiny scales;
We drifted on flimsy coral like forests, opal haloed
Where plumed and armored beasts peered, rainbow shaded;
Some bold as clowns; others, fragile as butterflies.
Our uninvited presence heralded such a display
Of pearl-pale fans splaying stars on fossilized sprays;
As if to say we may not visit again these sifted ways,
Or enter our echoless canyon twice; our polyp forested abyss.

 

Haiku

 

Diana Mayr, US

city girl
on a fresh air camp hike
what is that stuff?

 

 

Ottava Rima*

 

Just Take My Hand

Karin Anderson, AUJ

Just take my hand it's my delight today
to show you where maidenhair ferns drip lace.
We'll seek Sketchbook's moss picture on display
to reveal stone steps to our secret place.
So down we go on the stone's grisaille grey
as shadows flicker evenfall's last trace.
When flimsy mist slips off it's silver shawl
and morn's soft light lifts to moon's curtain call~


Air huffs our hair as wattle's fuzzy floss
but look ~ behold it's near the ghost gum tree!
There's a white drift of Sketchbook's featured moss
with brown twigs and leaves like spice-mace to see.
Now we'll scan for spanning wings far across
sapphire skies grand sweep for enraptured glee.
Dawn's chorus leads this love affair of hearts
where dreams are beginning and swooning starts~


Yellow-Faced Honeyeater birds with flair
stream a warm liquid call in sunlight's song.
Kookaburra's cackled mirth can't compare
to Wagtail's flicks as they chit-chit along.
Fairy-Wren's twitting and Raven's drawl share
a bush symphony as Crow's caws prolong.
Our spirits now soar bird's Ode-To-Joy bliss
as chicks in moss bird's nests are blown our kiss~

 

*Ottava Rima is a poem written in 8-line octives. Each line is of a 10 or 11 syllable count in the following rhyme: one octive poem. abababcc; two octive poem. abababcc, dededeff; three octive poem. abababcc, dededeff, ghghghii...so on and so on.  See Shadow Poetry

 

 

Haiku

 

Jacek Margolak, PL

moss
each day
less and less rock

 

 

drought moon—
only silver moss
on an old gravestone

 

 

sun patches...
the salamander walks
through mossy rock

 

 

moss....
the silence
her clogs

 

 

Tanka

 

Stacey Dye, US

reindeer moss
easy mark in the fall
huddled
with twigs and leaves
needing a snowy cloak

 

 

Haiku

 

Malvina Mileta, CR

murmuring rain
shiny and even softer
this moss

 

 

sounds of spring
the moss climbs up
an old oak

 

 

a ruined house
looking so much nicer
with the moss

 

 

A torrential rain
the moss on the path
follows my paces

 

 

the crescent moon
dozing on the pillow
of moss

 

 

grey cloak of fog
covering grey eyes
of the moss

 

 

on top of the cliff
moss coloring the sky
at dusk

 

 

before dawn
a stray dog washing
the face of moss

 

 

autumn in the garden
moss guarding the apple tree
for granny

 

 

Softer is the cliff
covered with the pillow
of moss

 

 

Free Verse

 

Vera Primorac, CR

In the softness of the moss

How I wish
To renew all my hopes
In your endless silence
So all my awes and secrets
Become yours as well
We save them together
Under your soft stillness
In the silence of a pine tree
And its shade
How I wish
To sleep
To rest
To be awake with your dawns
Hidden in your softness

Let your shadow be my cover
Touching me
And wake me up
In lonely morning

How I wish
To be embraced by your tender warmth
Throughout the dreamless nights
And then sink sleepy forever
Into your tender embrace
How I wish.

 

 

Haiku

 

Cara Holman, US

rainy season-
moss beards
every branch

 

 

Quintet

 

Djurdja Vukelic-Rozic, CR

I almost stepped on you
a silent moon of hoar frost
among autumn sighs
while gazing at a gliding leaf
diving into the shadows of light

I almost mistook you
for a forgotten handkerchief
of the morning fogs
woven in fragrance of
rotten logs

If I wished to abandon
even those most innocent dreams
or have them only swapped
I would lower them tenderly
in solace onto your lap

Should I wish to touch
the eyelashes of the future
and heal blindness of the space
I'd put my bare soul
onto your lace

Should I wish to listen
to humming moonbeams
while everybody sleeps
together we would undertake
unforgettable trips

 

 

Haiku

 

Verica Peacock, CR

Soft as velvet, pure
green grows the moss on damp ground—
birds' special carpet.

 

 

Free Verse

 

Neal Whitman, US

But Is Not a Moss
Lichen. Off white. Lacework.

Found on trees and rocks.

In forests and along the shore.
Lichen from the Greek for tree moss:

but is not a moss.

Not even a single plant.
Two plants –algae and fungus– combine in one new body.
Their needs are simple:

minerals from dustfall and dew from fog and rain.

Algae produce foodstuffs from sunlight.

Fungi provide protection with structure.

mutual aid without morality.

 

 

Free Verse

 

Hugh Fox, US

Re-Inpsyche-ation

No matter how much the
bone-mites have decimated
you, you're still there/here sauerkrauting
and sausaging it, I don't want your
pure ghost afterlifing it with me for
all eternity, but back in Prague
side-streeting it through Malá Strana
forever, back to 45 and me back to
a sumptuous grandsonish five.

 

 

Haiku

 

Verica Peacock, CR

Dainty fairies dance
down mossy slopes of green, leave
fairy rings behind.

 

 

Haiku

 

Vasile Moldovan, RO

Autumn equinox
over the faded leaves
moss blossoms

 

 

Haiku

 

Keith A. Simmonds, TT

majestic beauty
in the heart of humankind
glowing forever

 

 

Free Verse

 

Sarah Rehfeldt, US

The Way of Moss

To lie down in winter;
to lie down, thick as snow;
to settle, undisturbed,
until the dark, long days are over

 

 

Haiku

 

Verica Peacock, CR

Sighted from afar
moss carpet of green velvet—
birds' soft landing strip.

 

 

Anapestic Tetrameter

 

Reason A. Poteet, US

Memories of White Moss

After making the trip to Bar Harbor in Maine,
we set off on excursions within that domain.
In the midst of events, aggravating, arcane,
we welcome white moss.


We begin with a most unpredictable task—
touring Cadillac Mountain with fog as a mask.
Fifteen hundred feet high and sh-shaking, we ask,
"now, where is the bus?"


Safely back at sea level, we all need to chill—
"Tell me, who put the rest stop on top of a hill?"
Giving vent to our steam, we release it with skill,
creating a fuss.


So we cuss as we scurry, we snort and stampede
up the fifty-two steps to attend to our need.
On the zig-zag descent, rather tetchy, still teed,
we stumble across—


a botanical gem - symbiotic, we learn.
A bizarre kind of growth, some avoid, others spurn.
Is it algae? or lichen? a fungus? or fern?
true whatsis for us.


I see fanciful lace mid inherent decay;
I see whimsical bubbles entangled in play.
I see moods change as wonder reverses dismay.
an insight from moss.

 

 

Free Verse

 

Bernard Gieske, US

They Came in White Frocks

It is that time of year
When nature’s beauty appears
After all’s been done and said
When images and thoughts are wed.

The trees have changed their colors.
Leaves have fluttered to the ground,
Leaving their notes of farewell
Here and there and everywhere.

They came from far away
For only a spell to stay.
They came for only one reason
To honor the end of the season.

They came in their white frocks
Together in colonies they flocked.
To bid farewell to all of those
Who now would leave in their new clothes.

With such passion as theirs
We join them now in company
Giving honor to all our heirs
To hallow what they used to be.

Even life in the end has beauty
When we take our leave
leaving empty spaces
Which then are quickly filled
with pretty faces
As we accept life’s serenity.

 

 

Haiku

 

Rafal Zabratynski, PL

hidden pond
a pillow of moss
on each stone

 

Participants: Karin Anderson, AU; Jon Davey, UK; Stacey Dye, US; Hugh Fox, US; Bernard Gieske, US; Cara Holman, US; Jacek Margolak, PL; Diana Mayr, US; Malvina Mileta, CR; Vasile Moldovan, RO; Verica Peacock, CR; Reason A. Poteet, US; Vera Primorac, CR; Sarah Rayfeldt, US; Mike Scheidemann, IL; Keith A. Simmonds, TT; Barbara A. Taylor, AU; Djurdja Vukelic-Rozic, CR; Neal Whitman, US; Rafal Zabratynski, PL

Countries: Australia, Croatia, Israel, Poland, Romania, Trinidad and Tobago, United Kingdom, Untied States

 

 

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