#100daysofhaiku : embodying the art of haphazard poetry
Poetry is something that has always been with me; ebbing and flowing across the years, but always a constant. It’s rarely ever been shared- birthed from tender, intimate moments in nature I’ve always been worried that the soft egg-shell of the verse would be torn apart, or I would be seen for a soft- hearted amateur whose inked love for landscape and bird song isn’t considered deserving of the page.
Luckily, I’ve decided to open up, to share those bits of me-and-tree-and-komorebi (how delightful the Japanese have a whole word to encapsulate the beauty of sunlight flittering through trees) because caring and planning and stressing over something that Might Not Happen is exhausting and ya girl is tired.
In the spirit of forging ahead and learning to properly face and handle my publication anxiety (however informal) I have decided to do a 100 Day Challenge. Every day for 100 days I will write a haiku. Once a week I will share them here, unedited. At the end of the hundred days I plan on tackling editing and possibly put together a little zine with my favorite ones with illustrations.
To make it a little easier on myself, I will observe the following rules:
-Haiku don’t need to be 5/7/5 syllables (just the bare bones of a scene. I’ve always liked the “can be said comfortably in a single breath sentiment)
-They have to be related somehow to that day’s environment/adventure/cute animal or plant I experienced, like a journal entry
-Metaphors are acceptable because I’ve never been good at them and I want to cultivate their organic expression in my writing (accept and encourage instead of force)
-If I miss a day I must make it up the next day.
001.
Fuel abounds / Wind whipping bones/ In crescending inferno
002.
Young geese glide / Soft over fields / Breeze under new wings
003.
Expanse of sea / waiting for that / deep space glow
004.
Stagnant, wading forth / Still air through / Swamp and fen
005.
Clouds squat / Their weight resting / Ringing our edge of nowhere
006.
Whorls of sleeping bees / Tucked in unfurling petals / Dawn rises, they awaken
007.
Drenched, quenched, full / Finch and worm sing praises / Rain clouds pass and fall
Until next time, Sabrina
