Living in a city, I am so struck by how quiet and still and spacious everything has become lately. It is both sad and eerie, but also — if you pay attention — beautiful.
That’s what I hope to spend this weekend noticing. I’ll pop in just to post my haikus without context, and other than that I’m stepping away from my devices for a couple of days. I’m tired.
Hope you all keep reading and writing. Stay safe and well…
Haiku 10
April 10
This new world, so still!
Our own breath louder than these
silent fireworks.
Have y’all heard of quaranpups yet? It’s the latest thing. The perfect marriage of all the dogs who need rescuing and all the people suddenly stuck at home, just waiting to train and love and feed and spoil them?
Well…
Wait.
You didn’t quite get that?
I KNOW!
OK, the truth is, she’s our daughter’s pup, not ours. But, hello, quarantine — our daughter suddenly lives with us! She’s been methodically preparing for a dog for a long time — getting landlord pre-approval and what not — and everything fell into place today. I am, for a moment, feeling pretty ok about staying put. We all are.
Oh, anyway. My haiku.
It’s about her — the pup — officially known as Goose Alfafa Rugbaby the First. Haiku 8
April 8
Jessamine and phlox
growing wild like puppies
and this one is, too
It’s Sunday. The rain stopped.
We played a parlor game with friends over Zoom.
And I just had leftover birthday cake for dinner.
Not all bad!
And yet, this is just the most baffling time, isn’t it? I know that ‘puzzle as metaphor’ is a little on the nose, but we’re quarantined and it’s what I’ve got. So, here goes…
Haiku 5
April 5
Who cuts up pieces
of sky, hill, road and pasture?
Who knows the way back?
Hi, you guys. It’s my birthday. What a weird way to walk into a new year, huh?
We’re all in our own taped-off bubbles and yet, somehow, more connected — and more aware of and grateful for connection — than ever. Don’t you find it kind of amazing how quickly we missed what we had, how quickly we shuffled our priorities and returned to simple basic things like (no, not sourdough, but that, too) old, practiced, trustworthy friendships. Via Zoom, but still.
I’m super lucky and I have a bunch of those old, practiced, trustworthy friendships. And because of them, texts and emails and flags and scones and art and tinctures and cake arrived for me all day today — sometimes dashed to my door by a mask-wearing pal. You can’t imagine how lucky I feel. In the midst of everything, which is kind of a miracle that I hope to ride, at least for a little bit.
I’d like to share that feeling with you all. If only it were pie or wind, I could. Instead it’s just a wish that you feel both appreciated and appreciative tonight. And safe. And well. Goodnight. Haiku 4
April 4
Friendship flags waving
bright orange as butterfly wings
Birthday migration
I am not a believer in burying feelings, but I am a fan of re-framing. I mean, look. There’s no way around the fact that this is a colossal and traumatic thing we’re navigating right now. We can’t imagine that away.
But sometimes (like, approximately 100 times per day) (whatever a day is), I’m finding the need to re-set my expectations, articulate something in a new way, look at a situation differently.
Thus this poem, right?
Haiku 3
April 3, 2020
This thing we’re doing,
scary and isolating?
Let’s call it nesting.
Be safe and well, friends.
Breathe. Settle. Nest.
#NationalPoetryMonth #30DaysofHaiku #LizSharesPoems
It’s day two, folks. Is it just me or does every day last a very, very long time now?
I’m realizing that my haiku are going to have a decidedly quarantined flavor this year, but ok. This is where we are.
Speaking of which, this morning I felt just impossibly jittery and pent up. What to do? Well, I set off on a such a long walk that my dog looked at me over his shoulder several times in utter confusion. But it was all worth it because I felt way more myself when I landed back at home.
Plus, I got this picture and this poem out of it. So. Not a bad morning, all in all.
Haiku 2
April 2, 2020
Seen from a distance
everything is like a dream
I want to get close
No matter what is going on in the world, it is STILL National Poetry Month, starting right now, and I don’t know about you, but I need poetry like I need oxygen at this point.
For one thing, it means that March — that godforsaken, endless, Groundhog Day-of-a-month is finally over. But also, poetry. Poetry! Validation, empathy, connection and the balm of beauty. Thank goodness.
This will be the 11th year in a row for me to write and share a haiku every day in April. I would love for you to join me if you’d like. No pressure to share publicly, but you’re welcome to. I plan to post on facebook, Twitter, Instagram and my poor, abandoned blog, so you’ll be able to join me anywhere.
I will always use three hashtags — #nationalpoetrymonth #30daysofhaiku #lizsharespoem — feel free to use them as well, along with your own. Or not. Whatever.
Now, about the form. Haiku are tiny, perfect snapshots of ideas or images or moments. They’re comprised of 3 lines of — at least in modern-day, Western haiku — 5 syllables, 7 syllables, and 5 syllables respectively. There’s a bunch of other stuff I can say about the form, but I’ll scatter those tidbits throughout the month, but let me just add here that I don’t care what rules you follow or don’t. The point isn’t to be obedient — it’s to be inspired.
Anyway, this has gotten ridiculously long-winded, which is the opposite of haiku. So let’s get to the poem-making itself. Mine will often be accompanied by a photo and will often be typed, like today’s. Here goes, enjoy, stay well…
Haiku 1
April 1, 2020
Volunteer daisies
spread like sun across the yard
Light can’t be contained
