Fourth of July Haibun

Fourth of July Haibun

I remember it most often being cold on Fourth of July when I was a child.  I do remember decorating my bicycle with red, white, and blue crepe paper streamers and having a cookout with many of the relatives.  Burgers, brats, hot dogs in abundance.  Potato salad (which I detested), baked beans, and jello.  Watermelon for dessert.  Or ice cream. Simple fare, but family gathering was good.

At night my family would sit in our back yard on lawn chairs, blankets wrapped around us, and watch the annual Fourth of July fireworks that were shot up from a park on the other side of the river. From our own private viewing area we could see (and hear) the light show very clearly--the fireworks rose above the trees. The neighborhood kids also sometime got together to light sparklers, which paled beside the display in the sky, but gave us the feeling of being involved in celebrating in our own small, but more personal, way.

Life was easy then, and it was a good time to grow up.  But maybe, like all children, I was insulated from all that might happen.  Danger always seemed so far away; and perhaps that is how it should be for those blissful few years of youth.  It is Fourth of July now...some decades later.  Let the celebrations begin.  Life is good.

Fourth of July fare
fireworks explode in the sky
celebrate the day.

Well, I guess this is a haibun.  I was reflecting on the Fourth of July celebrations of my childhood.
For Poets United Poetry Pantry.

Summer of 2016 - a Haibun

Summer of 2016 - A Haibun

I wonder what future generations will remember and find meaningful
about the summer of 2016.  Will they remember it as being the summer
of the divisiveness of U.S. Presidential candidates? Will they remember it
as  the summer of  the beginning of the downfall of the European Union?
Will they remember the economic turmoil that occurred worldwide
and how ignorance and fear of 'the other' reigned everywhere?
Or as one more summer of denial of global warning, despite floods,
extreme heat, and rampant wildfires?  Or as the summer Zika virus gained
a foothold worldwide because people foolishly refused to cancel the
Rio de Janeiro Olympics? Will they remember it as the summer that
U.S. gun control reform failed again and again and again? I am not
optimistic right now. But I pray that something unexpected will happen
to make the Summer of 2016 turn out all right.

Sadness rules my heart
summer seems so far away
how will we survive?


A Haibun

Shared with Poets United Poetry Pantry. 

Autumn

Autumn

I guess summer is over.  No one visits.  No one sits in the beach chairs any more. Family only visits when the water is warm enough for swimming.  The water is cold now. They really don't come to spend time with me. Friends only visit when the tourist shops are open.  And most of them are closed now.  I sometimes wonder about the definition of 'friend.' So now I sit by myself inside my house with my memories.  It will be a long winter, but I will survive. I always do.

The bay is calm now
autumn is a lonely time
but I will survive.

This Haibun was written for dVerse Open Link 162 & also for my prompt at dVerse Haibun Monday - 4.   Please join us!

Rain and More.........

Exhausted

I wonder how long it will continue to rain.  Should I walk to the nearest bus stop in this downpour, or should I spend hard-earned money to  catch a cab?  Usually I walk the few miles home, as money is tight. With money earned my family needs to be fed. It has been a long day, and I am not fond of getting drenched and risking the ruin of my one good pair of work shoes that I saved so hard for.

I am exhausted from cleaning so many rooms of rude hotel guests who think nothing of scattering their litter everywhere, food wrappers and beer bottles and towels strewn everywhere, never considering just who will clean up after them.  And though they have money to stay in a first-class hotel and eat in the finest restaurants, I never see a dime for all of my efforts after they are gone.   I really don't know if I can make it home tonight, exhausted as I am, unless I take a cab.  If only I knew how long it would rain. If only I knew....   I could wait.

Waiting in the rain
a warm home seems far away
June can be so cruel.

This is written for dVerse Haibun Monday where we are writing to one of the pictures shared there!

Ripples

Ripples

I remember when I was young, and my mother took me to sail my small boat in the pool on the grounds of the Louvre.  It was the thing I liked to do best in my childhood days.  Mother sat on a bench lost in her book or sketch pad as  I sailed the world, captain of my own destiny. For hours I maneuvered my boat around the outline of the pool, my world filled with possibilities as deep as the ocean and dreams as high as clouds.  Oh the adventures I had on those carefree spring and summer days!  A daring and brave sailor was I, but kind and gentle too. And as I sailed I was filled with the joy of my unlimited tomorrows, all as sunny as today, and I felt so very good.

Dreams float as ripples
spring and possibility
in a cloudless sky.


This is written for Haibun Monday at dVerse!  Join us at 3 p.m. (ET) Monday; and write a Haibun to accompany one of the 'water photos' presented there.

Hope, Give Me Hope

View of the Church of Saint-Paul-de-Mausole- Vincent van Gogh

Hope, Give Me Hope

From my window I see the village church and I think about the faith that I grew up with.  The God of my grandparents, parents, the God of my childhood faith.  I have wondered sometimes about its truth, its relevance in my life, whether I worship now because of belief or tradition.  It is a difficult question, one I struggle with daily.  I have come to realize that I do believe.   God is real to me.  Without faith, what future do I have?  From my window I see the village church, and I thank my grandparents and my parents for my faith, the faith I have passed on to my children as well.  The faith that gives me hope & a broader view.

Across the meadow

I am thankful for the church

forgive me my doubts.

This is written for dVerse Haibun Monday.  Bjorn has prompted us to use this painting by Vincent van Gogh & use it as inspiration for writing a Haibun!  

Now That She's Gone

Now That She's Gone

I thought I had all the time in the world.  I didn't want to think about all she did for me. I wanted to remember how I made it on my own.  I told her once I didn't care what happened to her, wouldn't care if she died.  I made my own path.   Left home.  Married.  Had children. One time I told her I was sorry for how I had acted when I was a teenager, that I had regrets, that my childhood memories with her were my best memories of all.  It is true  I modeled a lot on what she taught me.  Family should always eat together.  Prayers before bedtime.  There was a time then when we talked about everything, a time we were very close.  I think we both treasured those times, not knowing they were a bubble that would pop.  One day she flew several hundred miles to visit me, and she irritated me so very much. She didn't act as I wished her to.  She failed badly. She was again the person I could not stand.  I thought she didn't pay as much attention to my children as she should have.  I didn't listen when she tried to tell me she did. I didn't want to discuss. Subject closed. Forever.

Butterflies live short

but their beauty is profound

the few months they survive.

I wanted her out of my house...gone, just gone.  I put her and her suitcase on the porch, called a taxi, three days early. I didn't care how she got home.  She said someday I'd regret.  She said it was my loss.   I forbade the children to talk to her, sent them to their room.  I remember she wanted to explain to them.  I told her she would never see them again.  And she didn't.  And I didn't.  And they didn't.  And now she is gone, and I don't know how I feel.  I still blame her.  She didn't say what I thought she should say.  She failed me.  I punished her.  She deserved that. She didn't try to get in touch after that.  Nor did I.  But I still remember there were good times, but I still know it was she who was wrong. And now she's gone, really gone........

Butterflies fly past

they see all but never speak

and they shed no tears.

This haibun was written for Kelly's prompt for dVerse Poetics:  Write a poem to someone you love, telling them how much you love them, or how much they mean to you, or things you want them to know before it is too late.  In this case, I am writing a poem from the perspective of someone else (the I is NOT me); and it IS too late.

Tranquil

Franz Marc

Tranquil

It is silent now.  They have all finally gone.  How I tire of forming my mouth into a counterfeit smile for the hours they stay.  They think I welcome their relentless chatter, that they do me a favor by their visits.  Little do they know how little I care about their foolish tedious tales, how I look forward to their departure, how I seethe inside.  My cats are with me now, which is all I need.  How they purr and comfort and calm me. And my music.  And my knife and rope.  And bottle.

Shadows dance in dreams
music stills angst of the soul
heart seeks tranquility.

I gave a haibun a try for dVerse Open Link.