Weekly Short Stories Contest and Company! discussion
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Haiku
message 1651:
by
Ajay
(new)
Nov 27, 2012 11:51AM

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The dreams we once made
gone or decayed. Intricate
webs, so quickly frayed.
Oblivious world
still turning. My broken tears
lonesome and yearning.
Our hopes and our dreams,
once silvery streams. Dried now,
and littered with bones.

A gust of wind hurls
the bones about. A solid
ray of orange arrives.
Piercing into raw earth,
it mates with the soil.
There springs new pulse.

Your flowery scentstands out.
once sweeter than wine. Soured
and no longer mine.
Amazing. M, as usual, such vivid and real imagery.
A keen wind plucks theAjay, this stanza stood out for me:
last few leaves; gone now, the gifts
of a dry summer.
Reborn into diamonds,These all are going to be tough to follow, but such a pleasure to read.
they cater to crews of
necklines and egos.
Sigh! I have been called away to attend to Christmas decorating detail. Will catch up later.

at his birth, the new hero,
tall, the Golden One.
All knew his mother
was the earth, his father the
desert-making sun.

Good night, pirates!

Guy - your monk moths made it into the poetry group finalists...that's two months in a row! Well done. Although I'm a bit annoyed as it means I have to stay a member for a bit longer to see if you win. I hate it there with the same passion that I love it here... As for comparing anything of mine to anything M has written-I appreciate the kind thought but....haha, not in this lifetime :)
M, once again I stand in awe. Your poetry is amazing and such a strong inspiration for me.
Al, I'm glad to hear you are feeling better. From a quick read of some of your new posts and group hugs, you definitely had some special coffee today. Great work!

Thanks Ryan. I confess to being surprised that it made it as a finalist because I don't remember ever seeing a Haiku finalist before. That I find particularly amusing and a little gratifying.
And as usual, I thank the WSS and its writers for inspiring me, because without it I wouldn't have written these things.
As to hating the poetry group... Hmmmmm. What to say? I haven't actively participated in it except to post entries and vote. Others who quit it wind up rejoining it every time someone whose writing they like gets shortlisted. So, be a passive-aggressive attendee.
I also, selfishly, find reading the entries to be an interesting exercise in poetical awareness. You see the trite efforts, the near misses, and the good stuff. I think, in a way, reading there is a good touchstone to your own growth as a writer.
And Ryan, your efforts are, truly, top notch. As I said before, even prodigious, as you seem to have taken to the form so easily, beautifully, and quickly.

the moonlit earth, high astride
his stallion Lightning,
shouting oaths for all
he was worth. Field mice found him
thoroughly frightening.

Ryan, I'm doing great! Thank you, glad you liked the imagery. But I wish I'd written something dark as an extension to your's. But I've run out of stock.
Excellent extensions, M and Ryan! I like where this is heading. I'l try to come up with something as soon as I help myself to a cup of tea (if by chance my muse helps me with it).

Rat Beard the Captain,
scouring high seas. Following
his nose, hunting cheese.
A note blows in, his
friends in the field. Under siege,
not willing to yield.
Ship about, no room
for blunder. Off to battle
Lightning and Thunder.



warning shot. Thunder almost
coughed up his box lunch,
and laughed and nearly
threw a clot: “It looks like the
ship on Cap’n Crunch!”

wrought with resolve.
Thunder's splendour's numbered.
Sorry, M. This one might be flawed.

his head. The mice had little
flashlights on their shanks
as they approached. The
sun sank, deep red. The mice formed
a hop-light phalanx!

Me too, Kat! I think that's a wonderful thing.

The light-butted mice
danced and jumped, flipping in the
air, dazzling the man
born out of the earth.
Thunder was so dazzled that
he fell on his butt.

I couldn't agree more, Ryan. I think we've come to a stage wherein we would be able to recognize each other's poems even if they are being posted in an anonymous fashion.
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