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.
I loved this haibun which so easily took the reader back to the halcyon childhood days and innocence and parental love. Beautiful!
what a beautiful memory of your father and how well you’ve woven the bait of words with the ripples of memory… wonderful.
Truly a great catch. A wonderful Haibun, sparkling with happy memories.
A touching tribute and a good change of gears
A very moving poem, Elizabeth. I too remember those days when I fished with my father…in a boat with a small motor…in some unremembered lake near Green Bay. Pleasant memories for me too. And those were the most delicious perch!
Nicely done, Elizabeth. “Genius is finding a new way to, say it.” I think that was Elizabeth Barett Browning said that?
I remember that pic of your Dad, Happy Father’s Day, that was the first post I read of yours’.
You caught me that day!
What is genius but the power of expressing a new individuality? Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Read more at: https://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/quotes/e/elizabethb383237.html
I didn’t get it just right. But here it is!!! You get the genius award for the day!
So moving, the image of that small girl, on then strong legs, fishing with her father.
I loved your haibun tribute to your Dad. Father’s Day is a time to remember those good times. Thank you for sharing.
I love how you switched gears into a haibun… the tribute to your father but also how much we are born from that memories. A childhood is what makes us into what we are.
This is a beautiful haibun, and a lovely tribute for Father’s Day. Your poem brought my grandpa back to me, and all the times he took me fishing. Thank you. He filleted, breaded and deep fried some darn good perch. I love the gratitude in your poem.
lovely haibun, and conversation note
Happy Sunday Elizabeth
Wow. Excellent prompt mashup.
A good father’s Day to you. ❤
Writing is how I find meaning(s) too.
You remind me of happy times fishing with my stepfather, and later with my second husband. (We did catch plenty.)
Beautifully written and a wonderful tribute.
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I just adore, ‘carpets of conscious knowing’. Love this poem, Elizabeth!