Comments

  1. Monica Sharman says

    Here’s one to go with Darlene’s photo:

    Don’t zip on a windbreaker,
    synthetic strands machined
    into tense fabric
    armoring what can’t breathe.
    Don the linen, its own threads
    loosely gathered, covering
    yet allowing the wind
    to breeze through.

  2. Richard Maxson says

    http://tinyurl.com/lf6ghfs

    Myth of Wings

    It is not enough to leave the ground.
    You know this—what you imagine is real—

    the dark fish leaps, armor softens
    into flight: yet, the sea pools in a raven’s wing,

    the bent world turns impossibly: look
    even the angels are drawn to its cage,

    slights of hand, tricks of light, it’s not enough
    merely to fly—

    listen: in the frail air
    above the earth, where all cries are whispers,

    the falcon, feathered hyphen, rises,
    vanishes in the illusion of morning blue.

    Ask yourself, what is this, if neither wing nor eye.

  3. Simply Darlene says

    Thank ye for including my image here! Here’s the double haiku I’d penned for the initial prompt (of air, breath, wind):

    elastic topped, sheer

    silk, lace-edged, rides high among

    black skirts, button-ups,

    jeans, faded towels, bed

    sheets – wooden clipped to clothesline –

    quivering, a slip.

  4. Simply Darlene says

    for the windmill pic by S. Etole — another double haiku:

    when wind blew more than
    power for water’s lifting,
    the dust bowl stayed too

    long – people fled, left
    homesteads, traveled west or pulled
    inside, went crazy

      • SimplyDarlene says

        Hi Donna – thanks for the kudos and for the link to the song. I really like it. How have I not heard of this woman before?

        My husband’s kin homesteaded in NB and most left during the dust bowl — what harsh conditions, but more so, what tenacity and strength in those who stayed.

      • Richard Maxson says

        Trouble in the Fields is a beautiful ballad. Thanks for posting this, so appropriate to compliment Darlene’s poem (kudos to you, Darlene!). At one time I had several albums (yes, the big vinyl ones). I remember Poet At My Window, if I remember right. I also saw her in concert once in Houston.

    • S. Etole says

      Nice one, Darlene. My mother used to tell how the dust gathered in the pages of closed books in the little country school where she taught.
      Thank you TSP for using my image.

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