poem

garden haiku

dahlia in our garden

This morning I was watering our new fall garden seedlings, appreciating the cooler temps, and was inspired to write a haiku. Writing a haiku is, in my mind, similar to how I draw at times, with an austere hand. Speaking of which, somewhat on a whim, I decided to reopen my gallery shop last night. In it you will find recently exhibited gallery pieces that attest to this idea of visual haiku poetry. I do have plans for my shop in the near future.

And with this haiku, I bid you good day.

fleur, clay blue shiver
cicada wings, glass shimm'ring
joy! dark morning soil

tulip petals and raindrops

Today in the studio I wrote pages and pages of thoughts and haiku poems. Imagery seems to be pouring forth in the form of words rather than drawings for me right now. Maybe it's all this rain! And it all caused me to remember a poet, named Gary Short, whom I met in 2003 during an artist's residency at VCCA. Today I found a hand-written poem of his that he gave me at the time and then I came across this poem online called The Collector. The last stanza is just amazing to me.

} Incredible Print Show opens tomorrow with a reception Saturday! Susan has been uploading shots of the installation. Works will become available online tomorrow as well. I'm really thrilled to be part of this show!
} Jan wrote a piece about IPS here too, thanks Jan!
} Tomorrow marks my last day at habit. I'm sad about leaving but excited to see what's in store there for the rest of the year. I posted daily and feel like I've accomplished something in doing so and that feels good. Thank you Emily & Molly for the opportunity, it really has meant alot to me.

Have a great weekend,
H

three

{these leaves resemble a hand or wrist turning to me, inspiring me to write this poem. this is merely a draft, a work in progress.}

gravity unfurls
in the dark morning hours.

i lie awake and listen.
with a turning of your wrist,
a rhythm
of ice pellets and rain
pour down our metal roof.

i remember the painting of your face,
calm,
as the waters rise in waves around you.

briefly
i close my eyes,
balancing the notions of hope and optimism.

then
listening
to the distant cadence of a silent language,
the robin's voice slides and echoes upon the wet skin of trees.

favorites by others and a haiku by me

1. {film.237}, 2. Het is fragiel, 3. ., 4. Proud mum


no one seeks the blue
bitter shade of night time elm
moonlight arms bare skin

So I've been in a bit of a writing mood lately. On unexpected mornings I awake to words forming in my mind and I go to write them down as I drink my coffee. Or sometimes when I sit in my studio in the late afternoon and the walls turn almost pink with sunlight and all is still, there are words in that space.

I find writing a haiku to be a bit like practicing good economics. Choose carefully. But I am one who appreciates the humor in a clumsy run-on sentence, so making careful selections causes me to be, well, careful.

By no means do I consider myself to be a writer yet feel it is another medium that enables me to assemble mental images. Are there mediums other than your own primary medium that you enjoy?

Now I think I will make a broccoli quiche for dinner. What are you having for dinner?
H