A magnetic sijo created with Magnetic Nature Poetry kit season of beautiful cold stone winter clouding gentle spring light dawn sunshine blanket over dark rocks fertile earth wet with bloom life follows path of moon cycle listen to her ancient song 'Ronovan Writes' poetry challenge Sijo Wednesday #2 Ronovan encourages poets to write sijos that… Continue reading Beautiful cold stone, or: Dawn sunshine blanket
A haibun Jerusalem is unseasonably cold this month. March is ostensibly a spring month, right? And Israel is a Middle Eastern desert country. It should not be as cold as it is right now. Nevertheless, in the past two weeks, the temperature in Jerusalem has ranged from 5° C (41° F) - 17° C (62.6°… Continue reading Spring, or: Winter?
Poetry Partners #61 A poem by Freya Pickard of 'Dragonscale Clippings' black frost creeps devours sleep fire in your eyes clouded umbels burn black dust drifts disturbs your sleep purple-stemmed hemlock smoulders black frost burns tearless eyes weep vampire dust falls both shadow and flame black frost creeps disturbs my sleep vampire dust drifts and… Continue reading Black frost, or: Dreams stare
An American sentence in 10 words: Occasionally, I wonder which of my forebears was first exiled. What's an 'American Sentence'? Allen Ginsberg, inventor of the American Sentence, felt that the haiku didn’t work as well in English. Ginsberg decided to remove the line structure of the haiku, maintaining the requirement of 17 syllables total. He… Continue reading In, or: Out
An American sentence: Caked in uncommon, slushy snow, Jerusalem's worth photographing. What's an 'American Sentence'? Allen Ginsberg, inventor of the American Sentence, felt that the haiku didn’t work as well in English. Ginsberg decided to remove the line structure of the haiku, maintaining the requirement of 17 syllables total. He felt that removing the line… Continue reading Slushy, or: Smoothie
A collaborative Chagallian Loku by Michael Simonelli & David ben Alexander Jerusalem taupe, winter khamsin northward streams dark sands through our glass, one sand pebble left in the clock’s tapered shadow, sere wind breaks our wing somewhere now where God rests dunes caress with downy fill, eternal grains here, graceful echelon, mosaics carved, rarefied stars… Continue reading GMT+2, or: In the Mean Time