For Sunday’s Whirligig: Wordle #116
running, again, knee, father, girl, bends,
way, legs, angel, where, smiling, thank
For The Sunday Whirl: Wordle #304
whistle, touch, wheel, word, gnaws, ring,
prints, apart, broken, echo, thread, fall
And Poets United: Poetry Pantry #358
Caught: a Haibun
Barely whistle at the words as they gnaw at whatever blocks their entrance at the broken through door of my abilities. Like an echo, they thread a path into my awareness, leaving muddy paw prints on this carpet of conscious knowing. Attempt to wheel away from their ever-reaching touch, but they ring through my being of blue-indigo twilight, like church bells, announcing evening’s Angelus. Calling me apart, to fall to my only figuratively bended knees, while thinking of the tom-boy girl, grinning to be fishing with her father. Running, once again, on sturdy legs, where Bay meets the shore with the kiss of an unknown angel. Eternally thankful for this much simpler way of being, breathing in sunlight dancing on water, as bobber disappears, then bounces back into sight, and tug on reeled in line promises one more perch.
Words whisper of need
to know clear definition
So, I write the poem.
Elizabeth Crawford 6/18/2017
Notes: Biographical. A few months ago, I realized that I’d been using the two word lists for a very long time. Wanted something different, so switched gears. And was just fine with that. However, each week, I would still go take a look at the words, telling myself I was done with all of that. Wanted to write something different, like a Haibun.
Earlier this week, my sister picked me up and took me out to the mouth of the Fox River. There was no one else at the small park, but by the time we had finished chatting, at least six men had come singly, one at a time, to fish off the bordering boulders. Only one of the men was catching anything, good sized perch from what I could see. As I watched, one of the other fishermen walked over and talked to the gentleman catching fish. Told my sister that the first guy must be using the right bait, as the second one walked back, switched bait and also started catching perch.
I had my camera with me and was far more interested in the variety of birds I was seeing. Turned that into an essay at: https://1sojournal.wordpress.com/2017/06/16/at-the-mouth-of-the-river/ including some of the photos.
On Friday, I once again perused the word lists, and moved on, but couldn’t find anything I really wanted to post for today. But, the words kept whispering to me, so I went and took another look. Decided that I would try to use them, but only if I could do it using the Haibun form. Not realizing, until I finished, that I was the only large perch that had been caught.
Image is a photo of my father, as I most often remember him. Love you Dad, and miss you as always. Thank you for giving me the love of Nature and the encouragement to follow my own inner leading.
I did use all of the words. Happy Father’s Day to one and all.